On Covid-19 Dating, Aural Sex and Love
When it comes to dating, I endure small talk.
Where do you work? How many kids do you have? Where did you go to school?
These are mundane questions, when I yearn for anything but. Pleasantries are a means to an end, opening the dialogue between strangers so we can move on to getting to know one another. A man who is confident enough to talk about what matters and moves him is a man skilled in aural sex.
I’m sure I’m not alone in my appreciation for getting real. In the era of Covid-19 dating, can we admit to ourselves that the isolated life is a strain on the human psyche? People are are wired for companionship, not technology, social media or the internet. We want to see and be seen past the masks, literally and figuratively.
And if this metaphoric language isn’t enough for you, let me say this to the next man I love: I don’t want to Zoom date with you, I want to Zoom Zoom with you.
Invitation to My Love
You’ve piqued my interest and curiosity. Tell me what makes you feel appreciated and cared for? Belly laugh so hard you snort? Flavor of ice cream that transports you to you favorite childhood memories?
Tell me about your bucket and bliss lists, the Big Wishes that have yet to come true and the Simple Pleasures that bring you daily joy.
Since we both like to travel, let’s day dream about Oh, Oh, Oh Places We’ll Go when our U.S. passports work again.
I don’t want to Zoom date with you, I want to Zoom Zoom with you.
Gaze into my eyes and if you notice that mine are different colors, know that you’ve gotten closer to me than most. We’ve crossed that 6-feet distance marker, a big deal in the age-of-corona-virus dating.
Knock down my guard with your wisdom and compassion.
Simple acts of kindness turn me inside out with gratitude. They say don’t sweat the small stuff, but don’t they know the small stuff pays out in dividends of devotion?
I have scars and so do you. Some are visible, and others are more than skin deep. They are evidence of a life fully lived, so let us trace our fingers across them, because touch is something we both hunger for, and your hands feel sexy against my skin.
A man who is confident enough to talk about what matters and moves him is a man skilled in aural sex.
Say something to make me blush and fluster. Laughter softens inhibitions and melts facades, and there’s few sweeter preludes to a kiss than a shared giggle.
We don’t need to fix one another and sometimes I cry. Tears don’t mean you’ve failed me, most often they mean you’ve moved me. If you see them, hold me or wipe them from my cheeks.
Take time to rest and recharge, exercise and examine the world. Your healthy mind and dad-bod matter to me. Gaze kindly onto my imperfections. It’s taken me 50 years to accept some parts of myself.
Who knows how much we have together, so let’s make good memories together. While there’s longevity on my family tree, and I dream of growing old with you, life feels mysterious and precarious viewed through the pandemic perspective.
Have I met him yet, readers may wonder? Perhaps I have. I’m fresh to dating, so it’s yet to be seen. Of this I’m sure: he’s handy with a hammer and my heart, because we’ve got a shelter to build together.
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art credit: Edvard Munch, Kiss, 1892
