Exercises in semantics

Chapter 1 - Comment dire

HEY IT'S BEEN A WHILE

-VINCENT

I stared at the message in disbelief. Didn't he ghost me three years ago? Why do guys always do this? I turned off the treadmill and texted Josh to have him bring some sense into me, before I do anything stupid. My head was spinning from the cardio and I wasn't thinking clearly.

Vincent was a hook-up I had seen a few times, several years ago, after my last long term relationship ended and I was on a binge to try and fill the void. The wrong one apparently, but it took me several years to learn. I actually liked spending time with him back then. 

He was a photographer in his mid 30s, with a full head of sun-bleached curls, and this unmistakeably French I-m-better-than-you aura. But he was well read, well-travelled, and we shared a love for rugby and cooking. Back then, when I had no idea what I wanted, or what I was doing, we'd sometimes make dinner together, watch a game, or spy on the neighbours, have witty conversations, do the deed, and in the morning, I would leave. I thought this was what a booty call was. Or a fuckbuddy. All I knew was that we kept it simple and casual.

We saw each other for several weeks, both on a rebound, until one day he never answered my messages. I remember that morning, he asked to see the pictures I took in Spain with an expired film that he was curious about, which I promptly sent to him as soon as I got back home. He never opened it. It hurt me for a bit, until I moved on to the next guy, and the next, and the next...

In recent months I'd see him pop up on my socials, sometimes reacting to my pictures. But to have the nerve to hit me up after all this time? I had to admit that I was looking for something casual, since I was focusing on the small business I opened last year with Josh, my friend and voice of reason. The voice of reason who was too busy to pick up apparently. But I wasn't that desperate.

Vincent was at the door within an hour. He still had the charming smile and tiny gold earrings that pointed out his eyes. Thank god I wasn't into drugs or smoking, since I had a terribly weak character. He said a court hello and scanned me intently. I became self aware suddenly. My hair was still wet from the shower and I didn't want to try too hard so I just had a kimono on. This is just a booty call.

He walked around my apartment, taking in the details. This was very unusual, come to think of it now, he never saw where I lived, it was always me who would come over. Huh.

"Can I get you a drink?" I asked as he sat on the shabby sofa.

"Just water is fine, thank you"

Psycho. Who drinks water when visiting? I headed over to the kitchen and opened up a bottle of a Rhone valley red, his home region. Seems fitting for the occasion.

"How have you been doing? I wasn't sure if you were still in the city" he asked, with that faint hint of an accent. The French thing didn't work on me, thankfully he spoke English exceptionally well.

"You could have called earlier to check, for example? Why now, what do you want?"

"The same thing as you"

"Meaning?"

"Well I'm here aren't I?" he said with a smirk, and in an instant he pulled me into his lap, started kissing my neck, grabbing my hair in one hand and hugging me in place with the other. I let out a small moan against my will. Every hair on my body was standing upright, like I touched a live wire. I forgot he had that effect on me.

"I do have to be honest with you about one thing" he sad into my neck. Alright, there it is, I knew there was a catch. "I am in a very happy, open relationship. I hope that's alright with you" he continued carefully articulating his words.