Editor’s Pick
MARCH 2, 2009 6:31PM
"Sally Needs" ... To Tell You About Her First Time (In Love)
MiddleAgedWomanBlogging posted a Google game that seemed fun and harmless enough. Until I tried it. You put in your first name and the word "needs." My very first hit was the video above. Really. Who could make this up?
I'm happily married and his name isn't Brad. But OMG did that video hit a nerve from my past about the defining love affair of my young adulthood. It's all there in the video. Longing. Pain. Confusion. Desire. Love. Loss. Discovery. Freedom.
The rest of my Google list reflects the same theme ... and fits the same timeframe. It's got to be karma. I'll show you a few more and then tell you about the relationship that took me from girl to woman and changed my life.
"Sally Needs" ... Google List
* Sally Needs YOUR HELP!!!!
* Sally Needs a hug.
* Sally Needs your help. (again, a different one)
* Sally needs a break.
* Sally needs a new job.
* Sally Needs Help. (yet again a different one)
* Sally needs a man.
* SAVING SALLY ... Sally needs a new Sally.
Bingo! There it is. Sally needs a new Sally. Truer words were never spoken. Especially then. When I was head over heels in grown-up love with a grown man. For the first time. And for all the wrong reasons.
He was divorced, two children. He'd been in another long term relationship for years which had recently ended. He was 15 years older. He was a user (of people, not drugs). And though mentally sound, he looked so much like my abusive, damaged, bi-polar, late biological father that when my mother first saw him she literally turned white and jerked back in shock.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. We need a timeline. Perspective. That year I'd had my Near Death Experience. Sown a bushel of wild oats and gotten into a peck of trouble. Lost my close friend Ron to a gruesome murder.
So I'd returned to a familiar career venue I thought I'd left for good. (And soon would). But I needed a safe haven. A place and some time to decompress, reassess. And, as I know now, to grow up.
One day I was standing at the mailboxes in my new apartment house, struggling with the key. A hand closed over mine and a vaguely familiar voice said, "Let me help." Prophetic words. So benign at the time. So ultimately toxic.
I'd known him and his significant other for a few years. Superficially. Never gave him a thought. They were older, a couple, ran in different circles. Such an established couple, in fact, that everyone referred to them by both names, all one word, Brad-and-Barb (changed for this story).
"Thanks. Do you guys live here?" I was trying to be casual. Why was my heart suddenly pounding?
"No. Well, I do. We split up." He made kind of a rueful, resigned face, without losing his charming smile. Quite a feat, actually. Until I tell you he was a politician.
And I thought Yes! Then whoa, where did that come from? I barely knew the guy and really, only as part of a couple. Still, why had I never realized how tall he was, and how, well, hunky?
Why were we still standing there, his hand still over mine, key not yet turned, smiling at each other, sparks flying, the air vibrating with some kind of tension. Oh, who am I kidding? Serious. Sexual. Tension.
But there was more, too. Genuine interest. I don't remember who broke first, but we laughed, he gave me my mail, we both said "see ya" and that was that.
Until a couple of days later.
A knock on my door. Around 11 PM. Sheepish grin. Sorry to bother you, I ran out of toothpaste, could I borrow some, hey, we have the same apartment, but yours looks so much nicer, really comfortable, maybe you could help me fix mine?
I was young but not that young, I thought. And yet, I was. Sure, he was coming on to me but mostly he was lonely, at loose ends, lost. He'd never lived alone, had gone from home to college to law school to marriage to affair with (oops, I forgot to mention that, didn't I?) and then living with Barb.
What the hell, I was single and lonely. So we became friends. Just friends. Hung out together. Went out and bought furniture for his apartment. Went food shopping together to fill our separate kitchens. Then, more often than not, ordered a pizza or cooked together and watched TV.
All platonic. If you didn't count the insistent sparks of intense sexual attraction. A gaze, holding, holding, then turning away. The brush of a hand, a hip. The touch of a shoulder, an arm. The occasional bump of bodies in an elevator, on the street. The tug of desire so strong I wanted to scream.
And eventually, inevitably, I did. Under the most skillful hands and mouth I'd ever known. Teased, aroused, explored, plundered, undone by the most expert lover I'd ever known.
I'd had good sex, loved sex, was lusty, uninhibited and practiced ... but I always kept the core of me separate, apart, protected. Safe.
So I had never known the tender, erotic and supremely satisfying joy of total surrender, not only to a lover, but to myself.
This time, finally, finally, love was involved. I let it in. Let him in. Love, laughter, friendship, me. Trust. Nothing guarded or held back, nothing off limits, no underlying fear crouching, nothing to hold back unlimited full-throated passion.
Six months passed, then eight months. We grew closer and closer, lived in his apartment and mine, whatever suited. Shared everything, past and present. Went out and about. Nothing clandestine. The 15-year age difference seemed insignificant. But what did I know?
One weekend he went away to see his children. I stayed in his bed, wrapped in one of his flannel shirts, breathing his scent to lull me to sleep.
Another weekend he came to my parent's with me. It was easy, pleasant. Except for my poor mother, the way she looked at him, it must have been a knife through her heart. I didn't see it, my memories of my father featured an older, already much dissipated version.
She told me, of course he's not Daddy, he's obviously sane, but there's something similar besides the looks, the charm, the brains, the humor. I don't trust him, she told me. Something's off. I'm so afraid he'll hurt you.
Right. What 20-something daughter's going to listen to that? If only.
Then came my four-day business trip. On the other end, Valentine's Day, a weekend. We hadn't made specific plans, but then we never did, we were always together. Almost always.
I returned from the trip, called him. No answer. Knocked on his door, used my key. Empty. Odd. But my radar was off. I was in full Trust Mode. You'd think spending that weekend alone without hearing from him would alarm me, but no.
Ah, denial. Total. Denial.
Monday I was sitting in my office, sorting through the files from my trip. The phone rang. Him. 'How was your trip?' Huh? 'Uh, fine, but where were you this weekend?' Not accusing, I was puzzled. 'Oh that.' Silence.
(This is harder than I thought, even after all these years. Okay, here goes...).
"Well," he said, "I wanted to tell you about that. Barb and I got married this weekend."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
To be continued....
Next chapter: SAVING SALLY...Sally becomes a new Sally + Photos & Flesh
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Comments
Anyway, you found The One eventually so I don't feel so terrible since it all worked out. But still. Written so that I really empathize.
:) loving it, Sally!
"Teased, aroused, explored, plundered, undone by the most expert lover I'd ever known. " Oh, he had to be a Democrat!
Nora, Lena, thank you, this came from deep down where I didn't even know it still lingered.
Lea, I think women just feel too maternal to do something so inherently cruel. Or, I could get bashed for saying that....
Ann, how much can I expose all at once? Jeez. It gets more interesting but with a little less sex.
Blue, do you think I'd knowingly go out with a Republican??? Not even for great sex!
This really sucks, but we all get that sharp kick in the crotch before we learn. If we learn. Still what an ass hat. (a term I learned right here on OS) This sort of thing usually causes harm in the next relationship and the next until trusting someone as a mate becomes impossible for some people. I'm glad that you got over it and found your one true prince. Can't wait for the rest of the story. I love me some Sally Swift.
Dang, Girl!! You did good!
That'll be $5 (rated cause my blog is affiliated!)
But ah, to be young, dumb, and full of... Well, that was my excuse. You'll have to come up with your own.
I sometimes think the only thing worse than being had is not being had. The closer I get to the end of the game, the more I think it's all about having a good story to tell in the showers. Was it St. Augustine who recommended sins of commission over those of omission? It's much easier to get over what we actually did - at least then we don't have to wonder "what would have happened...?"
That said, I played the game. I Googled "Bryan needs" and was told "Bryan Needs a Top!" I'm not sure whether to say "Duh" or "How very _dare_ you!"
(I would post the link, but given the recent furor over footage of kittens humping sofas and whatnot, I'm forced to assume some prude would have, well... a kitten. Suffice it to say that my alter ego shaves everything but his head.)
The worst part is feeling like the Magic Eight Ball has become simultaneously accurate and vicious. Oh well... "You’ll find the shame is like the pain. You only feel it once."
rated for honesty and awfulness
Marcela, he said it exactly as I reported, word for word... the kinda thing you don't forget. And without any sense of regret or realization that he'd "done me wrong." Oops, can't give away too much.
Leonde, Ablonde (nice together), newsie, appreciate your appreciation and support, means a lot, even now.
Delia, don't be so sure about "Poor Barb."
Judy.... don't give anything away. Ahem.
jimgalt, I can say that no suicides were committed during the making of this story.
MAWB, you gave me a great gift and you got due credit right at the top of the story. You are now offically my Muse. Any more Google games, send em my way. And again, Thank You!
M B, you got it. I really did freeze up when I got to the punch line here. Still felt that punch a lifetime later.
Bryan, yeah, the video's got intense drama. But that's life for the young. I love your sentiment, "The closer I get to the end of the game, the more I think it's all about having a good story to tell in the showers." Would tell the straight chicks in the sauna, but regardless, excellent wisdom there. And "Bryan needs a top" is another instant classic.
Denise, blindsided is the totally perfect word.
Well, I'm glad you're through it and back out the other side of it.
What a bastard that guy was.
I felt exactly the same as many, "Is Google psychic?"
Whao!
Tom, you speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but. Good, great even, but never the same.
JK, happy to write your version, but you've more than got the chops to write it yourself. Google was correct, in a time warp, for at the time Sally definitely needed a new Sally. I am she. I am her? Grammar police!!
MAWB, I think Google is not only psychic but somewhat godlike too.
suzie, don't ever say James Taylor to me again about this story, k? Jeez, talk about hitting the mark. And you got me to give up my coffee... I also identify not only with younger-me, but with my mother!
Silkstone, welcome to the club. No matter what age, rejection is rejection.
zuma, that's it in a nutshell.
And also wondering, just, you know, wondering, where are all my other friends?....... :::tiny, teeny, itsy, bitsy, eensy, weensy, very very small flounce:::
(OK, side note, but wanted to say that I did the "Elaine needs" thing and the first page included Elaine needs some time to spend undergoing complex treatment, Elaine needs a tampon, Elaine needs a better ear for language, and more sense in place of sentiment. ..., Elaine needs to get herself to a Dr. and get tested for AIDS, Elaine needs to roust herself out of the sack, and Elaine needs prayers. Come on--did somebody rig this thing??)
But Odette and I can get in her car, and I'll scratch the sumbitche's eyes out while she ties him to the bumper...
It's all so vividly described, it totally caught me up and not because I know you. You, the Sally I know, disappeared and this other person showed up to write this evocative piece.
Good stuff. Does my "D" know this story? Rated.
Cat, I like the image of you and Odette takin him out. A lot. Really. Maybe a little too much.
Rich, my very first love (puppy love, though it lasted on and off from age 14-25) turned out to be gay. This one, first adult love, turned out to be a bastard. (SORRY, CAT!) Two reasons I never gave my heart again til husband of now 27 years.
John, thank you, nice to know I can still conjure up the old me. D knew him but I think only as part of the couple-with-one-name. Not sure she was there for my part of his stinkin story.
Ohio, not sure it ever really goes away, just becomes part of the "experience level dna" that makes us who we are.
But you know what I kept thinking, before I got to the end: good for you, for opening up. Life is a constant bitch slap and you have to be like good ol' Jesus and prepare the other cheek. I truly believe that's spiritual accomplishment - continually opening yourself up bravely regardless of the consequence.
But I digress. I really like the way you started the piece and segued into the heart of the matter. It's like a fun, lazy, crazy stroll to...to...a scary place! You just told me a scary story, Sally! Not fair.
Oh and may I say: "Can I borrow your toothpaste?" is one of the most ridiculous and question-worthy pick-up lines of all time.
Stacey, that is THE best way to sum up our journies together here.
To be continued? Damn.
Thumbed.
I can't wait till you write the next installment so please, please, please tell me
1: Was he two-timing with you and Barb over the 8 months?
2: Did Barb know about you?
voicegal, WE are human, THEY are beasts.
Tijo, I'm very glad to be rid of him, especially now, when those extra 15 years would make him an old fart. The answer to your question (and I spent a lot of time in politics, some of it actually having sex with politicians) is #2. "They [Republicans] would withhold too much because they just can't stand to see others having fun." Democrats are by far better lovers, gay or straight.
Moana, thank you for having my back. Here are your answers...
1. No, he wasn't with Barb while with me until I took that business trip. Or if he was, I have no idea when and now I'll never know. Unless you want to call and ask him?
2. Barb must have known about me because Brad and I were out in public. Surely someone told her. My guess is she knew her man and just gave him some rope for a while, knowing he'd come back to her.
It's enough to turn me to a man-hating lesbian. Of course, I already like girls so it's not... sorry, me me me again.
That prick!
Kaysong, sorry it upset you. It gets worse... then better? Come back and see.
Brad - the Cad, no doubt.
But probably a blessing in disguise, no? Helped you open up, find yourself, cut loose, sexually; and you did find the One later, didn't you? And might not have without the Cad perspective.
but immediately after that last phone conversation you must have gone over in your mind the signals that HAD to be there
he never once tipped his hand?
anyway, great piece and now i'm off to read that second installment which i hope clears up some of the mystery
oh and i should look at that video up there
thanks again for this