Once, due to an odd set of circumstances, I was stranded in a small town far from home with a woman I barely knew. We decided to stay in a motel. The room had only one bed. We got into bed in our underwear, hers was pale blue, I was wearing dark blue Jockey Classic Briefs. I turned out the light. I hadn’t made any move to touch her, I hardly knew her, but she said into the darkness, “Don’t touch me. Once I start to tingle I can’t stop.”

***

A woman I had known casually for a couple of years called me up and said it was time she lost her virginity. We went to a nearby city and got a nice hotel room. We went dancing at a disco club—I had taken disco dance lessons with some people I worked with so I knew all the moves. I taught her disco dancing and we had the most wonderful, fun-filled evening. She was a really nice person and lots of fun to be with. We went back to the hotel, she changed into her nightgown in the bathroom and got into bed, but she couldn’t go through with it. In the morning we went home.

***

I asked a young woman out for the evening. I borrowed my Dad’s Buick, put on a clean black t-shirt and I picked her up with Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run playing on the car stereo. I was hot stuff. She got into the car, pulled out a book and said, “Do you mind if I read?” and kept her nose in the book all the way to the club. She spent most of the evening flirting with the guys at the next table. I realized that she was very flirty and I had mistaken her flirtatiousness for interest in me. We went out together a few times after that; she liked going with me because she could flirt outrageously with the guys in the bar—if she caught a guy looking at her she would close her eyes and run her tongue slowly over her lips. If any of them got too eager she could point to me and say, “I’m here with my boyfriend,” even though there was nothing between us. We did kiss once, but that’s as far as our relationship went.

***

My friend Doug and his girlfriend Betsy were supposed to go out for the evening with Betsy’s best friend Letty and her boyfriend, but Doug couldn’t go and Betsy didn’t want to go by herself, so she asked me. We picked up Letty and I drove us downtown where we met up with Letty’s boyfriend, who had brought three of his buddies along. The guys wanted to go to a sports bar and watch a game, but the girls didn’t. I didn’t want to watch a game either, so the guys went off to their sports bar while Betsy, Letty and I went dancing. We found a really lively club and danced all night, all three of us together, even the slow songs, and had a great time. When the club closed we went to find the guys. As it was late and we’d been drinking, everyone thought the best idea was to stay at the place of one of the guys who lived nearby. It was a small one-bedroom apartment. The girls made beds for themselves on the living room floor out of sofa cushions and lay down in their clothes. As a kind of joke, I lay down between them, thinking they would tell me to go away, but they didn’t, so I stayed there while the guys trooped off to sleep in the bedroom. When the placewas quiet and everyone asleep, Letty turned to me and kissed me as if she had a terminal illness and kissing me would save her from death. Her legs wrapped around me, her hands were under my shirt, her body grinding against me. I was breathless, swept up in this hurricane of passion. After a few minutes she said, “We should stop before we wake someone up,” and turned away. I was speechless in the dark. I didn’t know what to do. I got up and went outside, walked around the night streets for a while, then went to sleep in the car.

***

I worked in an office near a small woods with a little glade where I would go to eat my lunch in the summer. I met a woman who worked nearby and sometimes she would join me for lunch in the woods. She was married, a religious studies graduate, and wrote poetry. She was the only person I knew who had read Hölderlin. We had intense conversations about medieval mystics, existentialism, poetry, modernism, music, art, books, pre-Socratic philosophy and Eastern religions. I was often late back from lunch. One day, as we were leaving the dappled shade of the glade with the leaves sighing softly in the breeze, we both turned to the path at the same time and bumped into one another. We kissed. It was transporting, as if the whole off-balance universe had fallen into place, as if we were the sunlight touching the leaves, the wind swaying the boughs. We were freed from gravity, floating above the ground, spinning slowly in soft air. We walked in silence back to the road and as we parted she said, “Thank you for kissing me.” I saw her a few times after that, but we never had lunch together again. In the fall she told me she was leaving her husband and moving to Halifax. I ran into her again a few years later in a grocery store. We went out together once, but whatever magic we had touched in the shady glade was gone. I met her again years later outside a movie theatre. She was remarried and the mother of twins.

***

I was once in a play in which I had to kiss an actress on stage. I was nervous about it and during rehearsal when we reached the kiss, I would read the stage direction, “They kiss,” instead of actually kissing her. As we neared the dress rehearsal, I knew it had to be done, so when we came to the cue, we kissed. The rest of the cast clapped as the director said loudly, “Finally!” The play went well and we did the kiss at every performance. She was a very beautiful woman and the hard part was kissing her in character and not as a romantic kiss between a man and woman.

***

I was at a conference dinner where I had to wear a suit. It was hot inside and I stepped out for some air. A young woman in a black evening gown was outside and we started chatting. The hall had a large lawn dotted with trees and benches. We walked along the path and stopped at a bench. She took my face in both her hands and kissed me. Not only did she kiss me, but she shoved her tongue down my throat. It was my first full tongue kiss and I was taken aback by the force of it. She pressed herself against me, her tongue flopping in my mouth like a hooked fish. It was so aggressive that I didn’t find it sensual or pleasurable at all. When she stopped for a breath, I gasped, “We should head back.” We cut across the grass to the hall. I didn’t even know her name. Afterwards I found out who she was and called her up. It turned out that the dew-soaked grass we walked over had ruined the hem of her dress. She was furious and screamed at me over the phone.

***

I was still in high school when I went to a rock concert at a school across town. None of my friends wanted to go, so I went by myself. As I went in, I saw a girl pressed up against the wall by a guy. She caught my eye with a panicked look and then called cheerily, “Oh, hi!” Breaking away from the guy she came over and, with a big smile, took my hand, whispering, “Pretend you’re my boyfriend. Keep that guy away from me.” To stay out of sight, we went under the bleachers and crouched in the shadows, still holding hands. I put my arm around her. We kissed. We spent the whole concert under the bleachers kissing. When the concert was over her mother came to pick her up and we said goodbye.

***

A traveling carnival came to town. While wandering along the midway I struck up a conversation with two girls, who turned out to be sisters. We played some of the midway games, but didn’t win anything, and took a couple of rides together. We had fun, lots of laughter. When the carnival closed for the night, the girls said they had to hitchhike home and were afraid to be by themselves so late at night and asked if I would go with them. We hitched a ride out to where they lived in the country and the girls said I could stay in their house overnight. The older sister went in to distract the parents while the younger one sneaked me in the back door and up the stairs. She hid me in her closet and said that after her parents had gone to bed she would come and get me and I could sleep in her bed with her. While waiting in the dark closet I fell asleep. I woke up in the morning still in the closet. She said I was asleep when she came to get me and she didn’t want to wake me up. I hitchhiked home.

***

At one place I worked, there was a young woman named Rose. The place I was living had a blooming rose bush out front. One morning as I left for work I thought, “A rose is a rose…” and picked a bloom, intending to give it to Rose. When I got to work, Rose wasn’t in yet, so I left the rose on her desk and forgot about it. Then rumors started flying that Rose had a secret admirer. When I heard the rumor, I said that I had left the rose. I thought it was an innocent gesture and didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. So then the rumors started to fly that I was secretly in love with Rose. Being naïve and inexperienced, I thought the best thing was to ignore it. That turned out to be the worst thing I could have done. Rose came into my office one day all flustered and upset and told me to leave her alone. I was shocked as I hadn’t made any advances towards her. The surprise showed on my face. Then the rumors flew about my expression and how upset I was that Rose had rejected me. I didn’t know what to do, and so I didn’t do anything. Rose quit. Everyone said it was because of me and there was a lot of whispering in the office. One day, my assistant came to me, deeply concerned, asking if the rumor was true that I was suicidal and should be put on suicide watch. Shortly afterwards, I quit too.

***

I was at a bar with a friend who went home early and left me there on my own. I started chatting to a young woman at the next table who was with a group of friends. Her name was Dina and she asked if I wanted to go to a party. We went to the party where I didn’t know anyone and I ended up drinking too much. Feeling I was about to pass out, I went searching for a place to lie down, found a bed and crashed. I woke up in the morning with Dina in bed beside me. I was in my underwear and she was wearing a white t-shirt and turquoise panties. I have no idea what went on. I left the house and realized I didn’t know where I was, somewhere in the suburbs. I found a bus stop and took several busses back to the bar where I had left my car. On a Sunday morning it took hours and I had a terrible hangover.

***

I helped a woman in the library find a book. We started talking and I walked her to the bus stop. Her name was Denise and we got together a few times to go shopping at the Farmers’ Market or for innocent afternoon walks in the park. One day she said that she had to go and see her parents in a town about two hours away and asked if I would drive her. It turned out that her father was away on a job, but I met her mother and brother. Her brother rolled his eyes and said, “So this is the new one,” but her mother seemed to really like me, asking me questions about my education and my job, fussing over me. She asked, “When are you two getting married?” When Denise saw that her mother liked me, she went completely cold towards me. On the drive home she didn’t say a word. When I dropped her at her apartment she said, “Thanks for the ride,” and that was the last I saw of her.

***

I was working nights and a woman I knew from the local poetry scene suggested we go on a breakfast picnic. She said we could have a poetry picnic and read our poems to each other. She picked me up at the end of my shift at 7 a.m. and we went to a park beside a lake. It started to rain. The rain increased and quickly developed into a violent thunderstorm. We ate cold chicken and potato salad and drank red wine in the cab of her truck. The rain streamed down the windshield as we read our poems, our voices nearly drowned out by the rain pounding on the roof, the stanzas punctuated by flashes of lightning and peals of thunder. After reading a few poems, we sat staring at the deluge. She didn’t want to drive until it eased up. I took her hand, gave it a friendly squeeze and thanked her for the picnic. I let go, but she held onto my hand. She gave my hand a slight pull and I moved closer. We started kissing. It got very hot and heavy very quickly, the windows completely steamed up. She started the truck as I wiped the windows. In spite of the torrential rain, she drove to her apartment. I sat down in the living room as she said, “I’ll be right out,” and went into the bathroom. After working all night and then drinking wine in the morning, I couldn’t keep my eyes open and fell asleep. I woke in the late afternoon on her couch with a blanket over me. On the coffee table was a note, “I had to go out. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Lynn.” I went home. I saw her often after that at poetry events, but she never asked me to her place again.

***

Through a friend of a friend I met woman with a mutual interest in film. We decided to go to a movie together. Her father was a doctor and I picked her up at what looked like a small castle in an exclusive neighborhood. I had a Triumph TR6 sports car and was wearing Spanish leather boots, black jeans, a studded motorcycle belt, a half-unbuttoned disco shirt, a gold chain around my neck, a fashionable leather jacket, Brut aftershave, mirrored sunglasses, combed-back hair. I was every woman’s dream. On the way to the theatre she dozed off in the car. She slept through the entire movie. As we left she seemed only half awake, yawning and blinking. Rather than go somewhere after the movie I drove her home. She slept the whole way. Outside her house I gently woke her. She looked around, saw where we were, turned to kneel on the passenger seat, wrapped her arms around my neck and planted her lips on mine, her head and mouth moving so vigorously it was like she was trying to scrub my teeth clean. She broke off and without a word jumped out of the car and ran up the walk to the door.

***

One place I lived was close enough to walk to work. On the way home, I noticed a young woman who took the same route. One day I waited for her, introduced myself and asked if we could walk together. We walked home together every day after that. Her parents were Hungarian immigrants and she had grown up on their farm outside the city. She had lots of stories about farm life, Hungarian customs and language. One day I suggested that we go out somewhere together. She said no. I asked her a few more times after that and she always said no. I finally asked her why she wouldn’t go out with me. She hesitated, the blurted out, “Because I don’t shave my legs!” I didn’t know what that had to do with anything and just said, “Oh.” I didn’t see her walking home after that. One cold day in the winter I took the bus instead of walking and she was there on the bus. I realized that she must have started taking the bus home to avoid meeting me. I smiled and waved, but didn’t go and sit beside her.

***

Karen, a woman I had once worked with, called me up and said she had to drop off some legal papers at a lawyer’s office in a town about an hour away and asked if I would drive her. On the way back, we passed a bar called The Honeycomb and decided to stop for a drink. The Honeycomb had a plain façade, the brickwork painted coral pink. We went inside and there was a naked woman dancing on the stage. I had no idea it was a strip club. I asked Karen if she wanted to leave, but she said she was ok. We sat at a corner table. She was the only woman in the bar and a lot of guys were craning their necks to get a look at her. We didn’t talk much, I was kind of embarrassed; small talk seemed out of place, so we watched the stage. When we got back to her building she said, “Wanna come up?” In her apartment she fixed me a drink, put on Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On,” and started to do a slow strip in the middle of the living room. She stopped when she got to her underwear. Her matching bra and panties were pale green lace with a single embroidered climbing rose. It was the most beautiful lingerie I had ever seen. She put on a white silk robe, said, “That’s all for tonight,” went into the bedroom and closed the door. I didn’t quite know what to do. I waited, but she didn’t come out of the bedroom, so I finished my drink and went home. I guess she wanted to know what it felt like to strip for someone, or to see if she could do it, but I never got the opportunity to ask her.

***

I took my camera to a park to take some pictures in the evening light. As I knelt to focus on a wildflower, a little kid about four came barreling up the hill and crashed into me. In the distance I heard a woman’s voice calling, “Stan-ley!” I asked the kid if he was Stanley; he stared at me with big eyes. A woman came up the hill, out of breath. “Stanley! Don’t run away like that!” I said, “He’s ok. He’s been helping me take some pictures, haven’t you Stanley?” He stared at me with big eyes. The woman looked back down the hill and said, “I wish he’d run further. I came here with this guy, to get to know each other, but it was a mistake. He’s kind of creepy.” I said, “I’ll walk with you if you want.” We each took one of Stanley’s hands and went back down the hill. She smiled at the creepy guy. “Look who I ran into! An old friend. I asked him to join us.” The creepy guy looked at me dolefully then checked his watch. “I should really be getting back.” He walked away, shoulders hunched, hands in pockets. The woman, Ronnie, and I walked through the park with Stanley. She was funny in a cynical way with a wry sense of humor. She said, “Not only is it hard to find a decent guy, it’s hard to get a decent date.” Ronnie wanted to get out and let herself go. She liked dancing, so I said we should go dancing together. We went out quite a bit and had some really good times. Because we weren’t romantically involved, she didn’t have to watch what she said, or mind her manners, or worry about hurting my feelings, or protect my ego. She felt free. She was wild. When she met the man who became her second husband, I would babysit Stanley, who was a very interesting, imaginative kid, while they were out on a date. I didn’t go to her wedding, but she sent me a nice goodbye letter afterwards, thanking me for being so good to Stanley. She ended the letter with, “I could say I love you, but I know you wouldn’t believe me.”

***

A woman I was secretly in love with, Soma, moved to another city to live with her sister. One weekend I followed her and we went out for a night on the town. She had on a tight, dusty-rose satin dress with a black Spanish shawl. I was wearing a Lou Reed t-shirt, leather jacket and purple suede boots. We were up all night, ending up in a park at dawn finishing a bottle of wine. We stood out from the other early park goers: self-possessed joggers with designer logos emblazoned importantly across their chests; self-absorbed Tai Chi groups in baggy sweats; self-effacing dog walkers with sleepy-eyes and tousled hair, jackets thrown over pajamas. Soma said, “Look at these people, all knotted up with judgements and conventions. Freedom is our greatest fear. We are terrified of choices.” The dawn light slid sideways under the leaves, dressing the grass in gently changing shadows. She said, “You know what’s the most important thing we can do with our little moment of eternity?” She tugged at my Lou Reed t-shirt. “Wear the right clothes.” I took her hand, looked into her eyes and said, “You know, I really love you.” She pushed my shoulder and laughed. “Don’t be silly,” she said.

 

John C. Goodman is a Canadian writer and Pushcart Prize nominee. He has published four collections of poetry as well as a novella and a novel that was short-listed for an Arthur Ellis Award.