I saw an old friend this weekend, a newly divorced male friend. Hmmm, I never really thought of him as anything more having known him for 17 years, both of us always in a relationship… until now. I still can’t bring myself to think of him that way. We worked together when I was a teenager and he was a young man, I went to his wedding, he was best friends with my ex. I used to go to his house and eat dinners that his wife cooked and I played with their children and their dogs.

When I was getting ready to meet him, I purposely didn’t wear the cute new mini skirt I scored on the sale rack of a chic boutique earlier that afternoon. I didn’t want to sex it up too much with this guy. I didn’t want to turn him on; I went for more of a casual outfit, date night appropriate in case the tides shifted but not too over the top because I was pretty sure they wouldn’t. Maybe I’ll save the mini skirt for the blind date with the pilot next week…

Anyway, back to Saturday night at dinner, based on the googly eyes across the table and some of the things that were coming out of his mouth, I was sensing he wants it to be more than friends now. He was telling me how he hasn’t had any women around his kids since the divorce because he’s been waiting for right woman to bring around them, not just anyone would do. I thought that was sweet, but I also thought he was dropping hints or feeling me out.

The words sexy and beautiful escaped into the conversation a couple times over dinner. Always nice to hear. Then it was back to his house for coffee and Animal House on Skinemax. I wondered it if it was a coincidence when he turned on his big screen TV and up popped “Adult on Demand.” Seemingly, where someone had left it.

The conversation turned sexual immediately. It was a strange dynamic of old friends catching up intermingled with the feeling that he wanted to jump me from the other couch, but I knew he never would unless I gave him the go. Our conversations were always sexual in a funny way so it wasn’t odd or unexpected, but somehow, it felt more dangerous now, more real.

We talked about old times when we were a bunch of crazy kids. I brought up the time he exposed himself to me in the back room of the grocery store where we worked when I was 17. I remembered it vividly, he was bragging about how well endowed he was, so I finally dared him to show me just to shut him up. So he did. He whipped it out for about 2 split seconds and I remembered it was a nice size, kind of thick and dark with a weird bend to it. Sometimes bends can be good.

“You’re so sexy, everything about you is sexy, the way you look, the way you talk, walk, you looked great before when we were young, but you look ever better now!”

I started laughing and played along.

“I know it’s been my lot in life, my cross to bear…I exude a natural sexuality that can’t be contained….its not always a good thing….”

“Would you ever let a guy shave you?”

“Well, it’s irrelevant in my case because I wax.”

“Oh man…..you’re killing me over here”

He asked me if I got turned on when the waxer was working on me; he asked me what she looked like. I was about to just send him to my Wax on Wax off entry but I didn’t mention the blog. I had the notion that I might want to write about this later..

Next I think he was telling me what a big fan of foreplay he is and how he loves to give massages. Poor guy was pulling out all the stops….Then it just got plain weird…

“What kind of vagina do you have?“

“Excuse me?”

“You know, camel toe, flat front, or veal parmigiana?”

“Um….I am not even sure I know what that means.”

He proceeds to show me with his knuckles molded into funny shapes simulating vaginal visuals of the various types of labia and vulva. Camel toe is two smooth knuckles not so close together with a gap in the middle and nothing poking out. Flat front is a flat triangle with nothing protruding in or out, and Veal Parmigiana is well…. you get the idea with a lot of flaps and folds of skin hanging loosely.

“Well I’m not any of those freaky descriptions!”

I can already see him looking at me like superman with X-ray vision trying to imagine what I look like, down there.

Instead, I turn the tables on him…

“What about you, what kind do you have?”

He laughed like a nervous teenager turning 3 shades of crimson, “You saw it remember?”

“Yea but when I saw it, it wasn’t hard…or was it? Are you a grower or a shower?”

He was no more familiar with my penis slang than I was with his fisted hand shapes and ungracious terminology of the mons pubis.

“A grower is when the penis appears small in the flaccid state, but has the ability to grow surprisingly larger than expected when erect. A shower appears large when limp, but in actuality is smaller than expected when hard.”

Now I was blinding him with science…

He gave the typical guy answer and said he was a grower…. Until I pointed out that I prefer them small. He quickly retracted and launched into his various phallic talents and masterful skill set. How much he loves oral and how sexual and horny he is all the time, ready to go at the drop of a hat. He was selling himself as if he was a job applicant on the interview of his life. I had nothing else to do but turn the tables on him again.

“How many times a week do you jerk off?”

He couldn’t come up with a number.

“When was the last time you jerked off?”

He couldn’t remember…after seconds of struggling I baited him, “You must not do it that much if you can’t even remember the last time.”

Then he turned it around on me with a challenge, “Well, when was the last time you did it?”

“This morning, at 6:00am.”

He almost collapsed….

And that’s when it hit me...I realize that I’ve become a rare commodity for the over 35 single psychosexual male. I am being bought, sold, wined, dined, interviewed, traded, and analyzed for my worth, growth potential, and market share.

The truth is, it was all in good fun and Doug is such good meaning guy and a great father to his kids. I suppose I could overlook the fact that he has children, I love children. I could forget about his previous marriage and all the bitterness he carries around. I could possibly even one day look beyond the friendship we’ve had for almost 20 years to somehow learn to see him in a different light. But Dear God, I could never under any formidable circumstance envision myself being attracted to any man who refers to the female genitalia as a breaded Italian cutlet.