there's no rush

I have never, in my entire life, met a man who wants to take his time. All of my experiences until now have been of men hurrying into physical and emotional intimacy with me as fast as possible.

He looks at me. “I don’t like this type of music.”

“I can tell.” I smile. “Shall we go for a wander?”

He nods, his long sun-burned surfer hair streaming out from under his wide-brimmed fedora. We walk away through the crowd shoulder to shoulder to another stage.

The music is no better but we are away from our group of friends. For a moment it’s just the two of us. He holds me close. I pull away so I can see his face to I ask him what’s on my mind. “I feel like you are a little bit shy with me.”

He fumbles with the statement, startled, starting several unfinished sentences. “Is it because I don’t throw myself on you?” he says.