“Les?” I could barely breathe as I put out my hand. Who shakes hands with a Rugby player?
His head cocked to one side and with a grin that lit my heart, he accepted my hand. Caught in the clutch of his denim-blue eyes, I could not pull away. The plethora of party-goers did not exist during those seconds. His tall rugged figure, tanned and primed for the season, held a presence that wrapped me in a cocoon of shocking pleasure. This man was armed with charm. I froze with agonizing attraction.
“Yeh”, he said. His Australian accent was in full regalia. It flew its flag of sensuality. I stood immobilized through his short introduction.
Instant magnetism. Love at first sight. Ultimate connection. I’d heard those phrases. They weren’t for me. I was a new wife, married one and one-half years. Those effects may zap other people, but I was out of the game. I savored this power in books or movies, but surely I was not the type to succumb.
I mumbled, “Nice to meet you,” as I slipped my hand from his and bolted in search of my husband.
The second time we encountered each other, at a Rugby game, I watched only him. Even though Rugby is a more casual sport, I was amazed when he walked up to me on the sidelines at half time. I could hardly put together a sentence. I heard myself sounding like a bad connection on a fading radio station.
After these encounters, I needed to talk to my wise and well-seasoned mother about this uncomfortable situation. Not only was the memory of this man unnerving, I was feeling guilty. I needed direction.
“Mom, what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing, darling. It’s called ‘chemistry’.”
“It’s insanity. My gawd…has this ever happened to you?”
“It certainly has and it’s wonderful. Enjoy it. In fact, I’m delighted that you are experiencing this.”
“This has happened to you…?” I was embarrassed for her. With trepidation, I asked, “What did you do about it?”
“Nothing of course.” Her weird expression suggested she was sitting in a moment of pleasure.
“Nothing? You just ignored it?”
“Oh, you can’t ignore it. But… there is a very good reason for not acting on it.
“Yah, like fidelity. Right?”
“No, there’s another reason as well. Why spoil it? Why spoil the memory of these great moments?”
“Moments? You’ve had this more than once?” I was shocked.
“Several times. As, I’m sure, will you. With men and women.”
“Mooooom!” I cajoled. “With women? But that is lesbianism.”
“No, darling. It’s chemistry.”
“You leave me speechless, Mother.”
“The world is creating more and more lonely people. People crave intimacy. They will look for intimacy in sex and with the most convenient source – male or female. ”
“But this is the ’60s. We already have sexual freedom.”
“It has a way to go if you are the example, my dear.”
(The Guide’s response tomorrow.)