My vagina made me do it.

He had free tickets to the dress rehearsal for Actéon and Dido & Aeneas over at BAM. I’d never been to the opera before, so I was game. I zipped up my thigh-high patent leather hooker boots. We met up outside. We strolled in and loaded up on the free coffee and Rice Crispies treats. We pleasantly bantered back and forth.

The operas were amazing. I particularly thought the performer who played Dido was wonderful, even if the character Dido was a bit lame. I’m sitting there watching a moving piece about a woman so heartbroken that she dies. All I can think is “What bullshit. You can live your life without any man.” Which made me think of the only time I was really heartbroken.

This was about a century ago. I remembered thinking I never wanted to feel like that again. But I learned you can live without anyone, so I pretty much just wanted to slap a fictional character.

I digress.

To be honest, this dude wasn’t Richard Gere, but for some reason I had to continuously restrain myself from groping his thigh.

Repeatedly.

He had nice thighs…

After the show, we exit, and he says he’s not sure if he wants a beer or if he should just go home, since he had to be up at 5 am.

I took this as a hint he wasn’t interested. I said I understood about the early call.

He said he didn’t even have my number.

I told him he could email me.

Then I pointed out that shit had gotten super awkward.

He agreed, then reaches in to hug me. I can’t figure out why he bothered.

Don’t expect to hear from him again.

Who knows? He could surprise me by climbing my balcony. Except I don’t have one. I suppose he could take the elevator…But I’d be seriously creeped out if he found out where I live.

Stalker.