Yesterday, we were having a great day. I’m 40, he’s 47, and we were hanging out in our pool with drinks and music playing in the background. For once, the afternoon required very little from us.
Then the moment felt right, and we started making out.
It was the first time in 20 months. That’s a long enough gap for kissing to become something you remember doing rather than something you expect might happen on an otherwise pleasant day.
But there we were, in the pool, and the chemistry was still there. After all that time, it was lovely to find that out by actually kissing him.
I didn’t push for sex. He didn’t initiate it, either. We made out, and that was as far as it went. The afternoon didn’t come with a formal announcement about what would happen next. The music continued to provide background entertainment without offering an opinion.
I’m cautiously optimistic. The cautious part has 20 months of experience; the optimistic part would like everyone to remember the kissing.
I don’t know yet whether this marks a change or whether we simply had a really good moment together. I’d like to call it progress. At the very least, yesterday we were in our pool, enjoying each other, and something happened that I’d missed.
