Coffee

I love coffee. I need it to function. I am addicted to it. Can say most of that about sex, too, but I can’t say it’s an addiction. More of a “nice to have”.

It’s easy to keep coffee in stock. Keeping a steady supply of sex can get a little more complicated. I have not had that much trouble with this, and some credit for that has to go to my friend “Pete”. We met on OKCupid, went on a lunch date, seemed to have a reasonable connection, nothing earth shattering.

I thought he was super hot, but being very newly single in midlife I was unsure about how this thing would progress, if at all. Pete works nights as a bartender, so not much availability for traditional dating. He had shown me his classic convertible car the next time we had lunch at his house (major safety gamble for me early in my dating “career”) so I thought a drive in summer might be nice.

He wasn’t enthusiastic, telling me that he hadn’t had the car out in a few years, but did suggest maybe I could manage the “stick”. This led to another date, but I never got a ride in the car. He was clearly just looking for sex, but I wasn’t up to the casual sex part of becoming single yet…not to say that the thought of this with this very fine specimen of a man wasn’t something I was entertaining in my mind.

As my steady supply of sex with a boyfriend disappeared along with him, I started to think more seriously about something casual with Pete. When I texted him seemingly out of the blue about getting together, he was slightly confused about where I was coming from since I had been reticent with him before. I had no doubts about his general safety as a person because it seemed like I had spent enough time being around him to get the positive “spidey sense”.

I liked him. He was kind of simple, but in a good way. He didn’t pretend to be anyone other than who he was: a 58 year old bachelor who had never married or had children. He was financially stable because he worked hard out of college in the corporate world and set himself up as a landlord which provided a steady income. He tended bar for some extra cash and for something productive to do. He was not interested in sharing his life with anyone special. He seemed perfectly happy on his own. He quickly went for clarification about my text. “You didn’t want to fuck?”.

This was around a year after we first met. I said “That was then.” The logistics of a booty call were not something I had worked out with anyone yet. I don’t entertain dates in my home because both of my sons live with me. Pete lives all by his lonesome not too far from where I live.

So I went to Pete’s house in the middle of the day just to get laid. He usually goes to work at around 3 PM so there is a small window when he is available. By now I had had a few experiences with men in his age group with erectile dysfunction issues, but not Pete. He was good at what he does. He continued to be easy to deal with as in no strings attached, no baggage, no need for intelligent conversation which can sometimes get exhausting. I would just send an innocent “Good morning” text, and he knew what I was looking for. It was always easy to arrange a quick trip to his house for what I needed. He kept himself in unusually good shape by going to the gym 5 days a week. He was the hottest “old man” I had found.

I don’t remember the exact point at which I got tired of the routine of texting, driving, wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, but I did. I invited Pete to come to my vacation home for a booty call. It’s a beautiful place where I feel very comfortable and get very little time to myself since my husband had moved in when we separated. Pete needed to make this a morning “call” because he had some tenant issues he needed to deal with on the weekend. He lives a quick hour’s ride from my place. I told him to come early, and we’d have “coffee”, plus another special sexual treat that I had not treated him to yet. This was very enticing for him. I told my husband that I needed the place Saturday morning because I was having a friend out there for “coffee”. He didn’t understand what I meant because I didn’t explain. “Why would someone drive all the way out there just for “coffee”?” I let him wonder, and just asked him to vacate the premises that day.

I told my good friend Sue that Pete was maybe coming out to my place for coffee and sex, and she was sure he wouldn’t come because it was a bit of a drive and if he had things to do on the weekend it just didn’t make sense. Part of me agreed with this logic, but I remained curious about how motivated a man could be to go out of his way for some oral sex. Pete had a few delays to deal with that morning, but when he messaged me for directions it was fun to look forward to a different kind of encounter with him. When I knew he was on the way, I really did make some fresh coffee.

He arrived at the expected time, we drank our coffee and had friendly casual conversation, maybe more than we had ever had at his house, novelty and all, we did the deed, he got his “treat”. I had neglected to mention to him beforehand that there was a $1 toll for the bridge to cross the Delaware River, and he had had to scrape together some change on his way there, and now needed .75 cents to get home. We laughed when I took out my wallet and said, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll just give you the dollar”. Almost like, “congratulations, now you’re a pro”.

I shared this story from the angle of what men will do just for sex with my brother, who happens to be gay. There aren’t any reticent women in his sexual circle. He wasn’t at all surprised unlike my friend Sue, and my husband still thinking a friend came out just for coffee. This story has become a near legend among my tight circle of friends.

Some months later, my brother told me about an app you can get for your iphone that will send you a text at a set time when you are going out for “coffee”, just in case the coffee isn’t good and you just want to leave.

After a major abdominal surgery in the middle of the summer restricted my activities, including having sex, the surgeon gave me the green light to resume my normal activities on August 25th, just before Labor Day. I wanted to check on the functionality of my lady parts before trying them with a new partner over Labor Day at my vacation place so I texted Pete, good morning… I went for a visit on Saturday and he casually asked if I would be going out to the lake that weekend. I said I was. He asked if I was going by myself. I said I wasn’t. He said “Oh, what’s this guy’s name?” He was onto my plan. I just grinned and said “Tom”.

It may not be polite, but I refer to Pete as my “sex toy”. It’s one of the healthiest relationships I have had. Shallow, but healthy.