Those men a girl can just have "fun" with too...

One might call it a "rebound," but I think a more appropriate name is simply some fun. In all the time McClimber and I were seeing each other, he never doubted my affection for him. Nor did I doubt his trustworthiness. He established in the beginning he didn't want to see anyone else, and so neither of us did. I saw him practically all the time anyway, but even when I didn't, I still was content just being with him.

Only ONCE did McClimber get jealous--three days before we were over.

Another climber at our gym, Boulder, provoked lust-inspiring thoughts since the moment we met. Unfortunately we had a difficult time exchanging more than a couple words with one another. He was quiet in a dark-and-twisty sort of way, with a constant, blank, evaluating expression. I guess it's somewhat fair to call him shy.

Aesthetically he wasn't too impressive, but there certainly wasn't anything wrong with him. He's shorter, borderline handsome, perfect T-shape body, and strong. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a murky demeanor; you're never too sure what the hell is going on behind his perpetual poker face. Boulder found his way to my darker fantasies with his subtle, mysterious intensity... And the more he discovered, the more it began to annoy McClimber.

Although Boulder and I often had nothing to say to each other, and possessed a mutual sentiment that the other was plain-old weird, there was an odd thing that kept happening between us in private company: we cuddled.

Um, weird? Ha. Yeah.

The two times we were at a mutual friend's house, with Miss Ind. in tow, he and I seemed unable to keep our hands and bodies to ourselves. No one said anything about it, certainly not Boulder or I, but there it was.

After a bit of whiskey with McClimber, I confessed that the last time Boulder and I were hanging out he spoke openly and sexually with me. (Keep in mind this last encounter with Boulder had happened when McClimber and I were in our first week together.) Boulder even demonstrated a particular activity he found erotic--using me to assist the demonstration. How I conveyed this to McClimber is still a little murky to me, but McClimber's response was loud and clear: "Well, Boulder is single now. You should go out with him."

Bitter much?

At the time, I of course had no interest in anyone but McClimber, so his worries were unnecessary. But, once I was single again, things changed.

Before I knew it, Boulder and I had each others' phone numbers. We texted randomly and promised to hang out. We were even a little less awkward at the gym together. Then, two nights ago, Boulder decided he was bored and wanted to hang out... alone.

Dun dun duuuunn.

He came over at midnight and all that sexual tension that had been building in the last half-year couldn't contain itself for long. I put the movie on that he brought over and I went to sit down next to him. He put his arm out. I wasn't sure what he meant at first but then he grabbed my hand, pulled me down next to him, and wrapped his arm around me. Our bodies immediately intertwined with legs wrapped around and between. I had one hand resting on his rock-hard chest, the other on the inside of his lean thigh. Mmmmm yummy. Probably not even fifteen minutes into the movie he lifted my chin toward him and kissed me.

You must understand it is not like me to go and kiss every guy I meet, particularly every guy I meet in one particular venue (both McClimber and Boulder work at the same gym I attend), but something odd is happening in my life.

It's the curiosity of 20-somethings. We have the freedom, we have the time, we lack the ties, and we have the drive. It's the perfect set-up for disaster.

The problem lies in societal and social standards--although I have a squeaky-clean past, my recent activity may provoke an unflattering label. And, why? Does my kissing Boulder devalue me? Does it make me less loving? Less desirable? Less worthy? Less... me? Or does it not really change a damn thing?

I still live with the aim of bringing joy, and not destruction. I still abide by rules of common courtesy, respect, and integrity. I still mean well, and still love. So is it possible for a girl to have a fun experience with a boy and let it remain just fun?

Passion is hard to come by, and those moments when we lose ourselves entirely in the moment are valuable too. Kissing Boulder let me do that. When I was winding down from holiday stress, winding down from a failed relationship, winding down from a new job hunt, and winding down from my own unmet expectations, there was this guy kissing me with his eyes closed. Kissing me slowly, passionately, intensely. Oscillating between dangerous roughness and heartbreaking tenderness. Physically there, and saying hardly anything at all.

It was better than chocolate.

Although I understand the concept of "slut," I have a question: If my "secret" encounter with Boulder hurts no one, is it bad?

Or, just fun?