Loose Women and Abusive Men

I am sitting outside the doorway of my motel room on a concrete porch the paint has faded from. Smoking a cigar, sipping a beer and listening to a female acquaintance tell me how she wants a family and how she wants children, I take it all in. The woman is around thirty, well put together and speaks with a particular accent. I like hearing her accent and do not rush to stop her. Continuing on, she tells me how mortified she was to discover that a few of the men she has dated have lied to her and cheated on her. One of her men did not bother to tell her he was married and had kids, she found out when the man's wife answered the telephone. Another of her men slept with her best friend.

I am sitting outside the door of my motel room on a green-colored concrete porch where much of the green has faded and I am taking in the summer night listening to a female acquaintance who is disclosing her sexual past and knowing the precursor to intimacy is self-disclosure, I do not rush to stop her and I listen to her vent and I smile and nod more to her heavy Eastern accent than to her words.

After some time, I get up and go inside and she follows me in. Lying on the bed she ask if I will call her the next day? I say yes and keeping to my word I call her the very next day and we make a plan to get together. After I get off the telephone, I go about getting the things I needed to do, done. She calls later to move back our meeting time she says she is going to go to a tanning salon. A few hours later, she calls again and says she is still running late. Four hours after we were to get together getting a bit worried I call her on her cell phone but do not get an answer.

So I am sitting outside the doorway of my room smoking a cigar wondering which abusive man my female acquaintance is with tonight. I smile, laugh and then somberly think, if you want to be with her, you might have to act accordingly but then that thought evaporates and blows away with my smoke rings.

No, I will not act accordingly and try to squeeze myself into a bed, which all ready has too many men. In a nanosecond romance there are no victims just volunteers and with that thought, I get up, stretch, go inside and shut my door to a very hot but still, a very beautiful summer night.