Erotic Play by Mary Bevington

Via on Feb 1, 2009

“… when someone blushes, doesn’t that mean ‘yes’?” ~ Antoine Saint-Exupery from The Little Prince

 

After a nine-year hiatus I’m dating again.

Lord.

I have seven brothers. So, hanging with brothers from other mothers is easy.

Until I feel erotic attraction. Then all hell breaks loose.

I’m either blissful, buoyed by sense memory of life with boyz, or I’m freaking.

As in, I start speaking Ubbi Dubbi like Mushmouth on Fat Albert, or I duck and run Napoleon Dynamite style. 

And occasionally I feel the urge to spar, like that one time in college when I sparred with H.

We were at a party, beer in our bellies, and all evolved, especially after H showed me his Calvin and Hobbes tattoo, in the neighborhood of his pelvic crest….

But in general I suppress this desire for fear that sparring might be mistaken for savagery.

Grrrrr -

Recently I went out with D.

Mutually shy, we circled each other for hours; the way animals do in the seconds before they hump. 

After a while he spoke about his on-going study of talking to women. He went on forever.

And while I was engaged, the average human mind wanders into sexual fantasy after seven minutes of continuous listening. And mine is no exception.

I found myself holding his gaze; then watching his mouth.

Endorphins rose.

I imagined our bodies closer and moved in ever so slightly.

Then he stopped talking, and I choked.

Breathlessly I filled the air with a synopsis of the dang French Feminist theories.

Seriously.

I started in on phallogocentrism and how ‘…our minds are colonized by patriarchies; therefore our masculine, action driven society represses feminine principled space an-‘…

Wtf?

The moment shattered. 

My six syllable words came too soon, too swiftly. And, mildly emasculated, he started to text.

I wished I’d let his soliloquy land before I became ‘I-know-all-about-this-topic’ woman. After all we were not talking, we were circling one another; sensing, smelling. 

Sheesh.

I’m not certain where my big mouth took him; I just know that our ‘date’ lost its frisson in a heartbeat.

C’est la vie. I’ll get a do-over, maybe even with D; as the tide pulls so it returns.

Next time may Eros keep me in my body, out of my nerves, and in the animal dance. 

About Mary Bevington

Mary Bevington lives in Boulder, Colorado. She's an artist and a teacher. She teaches yoga, dharma art, performance theory and facilitates outdoor experiences. She has an MFA in Theatre: Contemporary Performance from Naropa University and a BA in Creative Writing from Colorado College. Mary likes telemark skiing, climbing, cool people and music. www.marybevington.com

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2 Responses to “Erotic Play by Mary Bevington”

  1. John Joseph says:

    Despite phallogocentrism, we are so biologically programmed to recreate ourselves….9 years is a lot of time to build up desire…..

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