Full of didn't

The timing was off. I was ready, open, seeking. As my latest suitor put it, “lustin’ for cock”.

And it wasn’t happening. Out of all the guys spilling onto the street from the game, I didn’t find one for me.
There was the guy who seized my hand and in sincere surprise, pronounced me an angel. “I’m serious! You’re glowing all over the place, you’re a beam of light in all of our lives!” He and his friends weren’t it.

The guy who invited me into his car and offered to eat my pussy wasn’t it. He insisted he would prefer to ditch his friends to stay with me, and his house was just right up here, while he tried to foist pot on me after I said I didn’t smoke. Sensing a rapist, I got out at the next light.

The guy with the umbrella definitely wasn’t it. He spoke to me as I passed, and so I turned and talked with him, then walked with him, as we were headed the same way. Sober, nice enough, not from here. He invited me into his apartment, promising me wine and the freedom to leave anytime I wished, and I went, even though I knew this wasn’t nearly it. His bed was unmade, his pillows were uncased, his laundry piled on his couch, he was “mistaken” about the wine, and the building reeked of squalor. I left in haste.

The guy I went to dinner with along with his friends wasn’t it, although I would’ve happily made out with him. He was built and cute with a Canada redneck accent and no compunction about expressing his admiration and attraction to me. His choice was to leave. I suspect an unmentioned girlfriend or else no privacy to bring me home to. Not drunk enough.

Or too drunk: I wasn’t offended by the guy who wanted me to join them for some beers in their hotel room, but his friends practically hauled him away by the arms, telling him to stop harassing the girl, and apologizing profusely for their buddy’s behavior.

There were a couple eyes met and brows raised that I didn’t stop and hold, but none of them had that liquid mercury feeling of fear and promise either. I was roaming and looking, but no dice for me this night.

And that was just bad timing, because how often is an authentically single woman available for an NSA hookup in a city full of drinking hockey men?

Partly I think I need to tune the radar, but mostly, honestly, I think my field was disturbed by my team’s loss. I was far away from home, and in the minority cheering for the losing team that night. Men are known to experience a drop in testosterone and immunity when their chosen team suffers a loss- an empathic reaction. I know I get punched in the gut, and I get a low level depression that lasts at least a day, depending on magnitude of the game (a week or more for a Stanley Cup knockout). This night, I decided to push off the sadness or look for a tall drink of water to drown it in. But my energy was too shaken to let myself be guided to the right place for the right time. Only balanced, happy, energized people attract luminous accidents of connection.