A Tale of Body Snatchers?

I think I know myself pretty well. I mean obviously there are days I like to delude myself into thinking I'm a calm, nice, rational person but really, it's bullshit. Even more so lately. I think I've been possessed by the spirit of some Lolita that's forcing me to hit on complete strangers in parking lots. I think I need an exorcism.

Hold onto your hats for this one people. Aren't you glad Dual Mom's single?

So yeah, I hit on a complete stranger in a parking lot. Ok, truthfully I didn't really hit on him. I commented on his bike (after checking out his ass as he was bent over said bike). I told him he had a nice ass bike. Totally innocent, right? He asked me if I "ride" (oh look- there goes my mind rolling into the gutter) and I explained that I leave the driving to those that know what they're doing but that I did enjoy riding shotgun.

He then said, and I quote, "I have an extra helmet, want to go for a drive?"

I don't shock easily. After I picked my fucking jaw up off the floor I sort of stuttered and may have actually spit on him in my efforts to get words to come out of my vocal chords. Oh  yeah, Dual Mom can impress the boys with her suave comebacks and spit. But really, what's a girl to do? It's 28 degrees, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, I've worked 42 hours in three days, I've been up since 4am and I'm single. I didn't even give myself a chance to talk myself out of it, I mean how completely fucking moronic is it to hop on the back of a bike with a total stranger? Yeah, he's cute, he's got a smokin ass, and he obviously appreciates the finer things in life (he is driving a Harley after all) but still....moronic with a capital M people.

So I locked my car, put on his helmet and what followed was probably one of the best evenings I've had in a very very long time. It was obvious that he was an experienced driver. Both ex hubby and ex boyfriend had bikes. I've spent my fair share of time on the back of a motorcyle. This guy knew what he was doing. So as we're driving across the bridge into town my sunglasses go flying off my face. He leans back and asks me if I want him to turn around and all I can do is laugh. I have my arms wrapped around this beautiful strange boy, I'm riding on the back of a Harley and I'm laughing with complete and utter abandon.

We drove and drove and drove. Fuck I think my hair was even blowing like you see in one of those corny commercials. Every few minutes he would turn his head slightly to ask if I was ok. He told me his name, I told him mine. He's chatting with me whenever we pull up to a light or stop sign, whenever we slow down for traffic. He asks if I'm scared (pffff scared? I hop on motorcyles all the time with strange men),  he tells me that he's been driving motorcycles all his life, he asks me what I do, he asks me if I'm single, (ha pretty sure if I wasn't I would be after my little escapade). All I can do is sit there dumbstruck, with this shit eating grin on my face. I'm staring at his hands as he operates the gears. He has a beautiful silver watch on his left wrist and his hair curls beneath the rim of his helmet. 

We laughed at the absolute insanity of what we were doing.

And you know what? As I sat on the back of that bike, with my arms wrapped around beautiful strange boy (did I mention how much I liked having my arms wrapped around beautiful strange boy), I felt free. I mean, I've heard people say how they "felt such a sense of freedom" but I never understood what it meant. At that very moment, I was free and I have no words for how glorious it felt.

When you have children as a teenager, you're freedom is cut very short before you have the knowledge and means to really enjoy it. Any mother out there knows how children have a sneaky way of infiltrating into our lives and souls. We live for our children. They are the very substance of our existance from the moment they are placed in our arms, and often well before that. This evening, I was just a woman. I was a woman on the back of a bike with a complete stranger and I have never felt more free.

He took me for nachoes and beer. Seriously. We ate nachoes and drank beer at an outdoor restaurant. I had two, he only had one. We laughed. My sides hurt from laughing. I told him I was recently single and had joined an online dating site (more on that later). He teased me that I wouldn't be able to keep them all straight, that I'd be mixing up names and vital statistics of all my paramours (his word). He suggested the proper thing to do was to get a white board and start a flow chart. I laughed until tears rolled down my face.

Then we walked around town because he said he wasn't taking me back on the bike until I walked off the beer. For an hour we walked, laughing some more. We stopped and he bought coffee and we walked more, talking as though we were the best of friends. We stopped and listened to an outdoor jazz concert. It was surreal. I wish I could describe how it felt, the craziness of it mixed with the sheer joy.

We exchanged contact info. I hope to hear from him again, but if I don't I have to tell you I won't regret a minute of it. He gave me one of the best evenings I've had in quite awhile...and yes, I include the evening spent with boy toy (more on that later too).

As he drops me at my car, he gets off the bike and unstraps my helmet all the while smiling at me (yeah, the shit eating grin was still on my face).

He hugged me before hopping back on his bike and riding into the sunset. A real, genuine hug.

I think someone should pinch me because I have to be dreaming, seriously.