explicit

I got turned down for sex.
I'm glad I asked though. "Sex?"
I said? She was like, no thanks.
She didn't say it, but
she was like that. What
she actually said was "Female."

I said I think you mean gender.
She replied no, that's a social
construct ("I know!"), I meant
biologically ("Oh."). So

I felt relieved that we were
clear on all that, but also
sad. And then we proceeded

not to have sex.

It was amazing. Amazing is a type
of confusing. The eyes, amazed, confuse
the mind and we're dazzled, basically
- although this was more verbal
than visual. She said

look, I'm going to want your
unambiguous verbal consent
not to have sex. She wanted it
clear. I was like what,
is this a test? I refuse! Now

what? We were up an impasse
with no way back down except
backing down, so I said "You

don't need any man's consent

for that." She said I don't want

any man's.

I want yours.

Of course, I melted all over inside
when she put it like that. "Ok! You
got it!"

I capitulated, which sounds like
a complicated, tricky maneuver.
She was duly impressed, which was
not very, but I'll take what I can get
in a case like this, which is
not much, but such as it was
I pressed my luck. I was pretty
not sexually confident,
by this point, which
was more of a line,
and we continued
on it. We were not having sex
like a couple of wild animals
by this point. Then she said

"Stop!"

I did of course. Suddenly,
like a pig or a wolf will stop
in the middle of not having sex.

"Yes?" I asked, but I was looking
another question at her.

She determined to answer both:
"Yes and no."

What does that mean? I wondered. Where
do we not go, from here? Do we continue

along Not Sex Avenue, or duck furtively
down Sex Alley?

It was like we were out for a walk.

We were, in fact, though whoever named
the streets in this quarter seems
to have had a prescient sense
for poetic irony. I nodded my head
up at the street sign -
clear enough, as signs go. "Why don't

we amble along down thisaway?"

She agreed most pleasantly, "let's"
and we slunk
down Sex Alley,
holding hands and conversing
in hushed tones
we each supposed

were dulcet.

The alley was blind, like
love is blind, but we didn't mind. It
ended in a sort of a culvert. "Say,"

she said. "It's pretty back here.
Like a mossy grotto." I had to agree;
she had me there.

It felt like a place to make a wish. And I did,
but it isn't the kind of a wish you share.

We ambled back out, and continued on
from there - she, still refusing me
sex in every gesture, even though

I wasn't asking! I was cool to her
charms by then. I was in the "friend
zone" - the only thing that mattered
to me now was hanging out and hearing
her problems! But she hadn't any.

This was a mixed signal, but I didn't
know how to interpret it. What
does it mean when a girl
has no problems, but keeps
hanging out with you anyway?

She tossed her head with a bell-like
laugh and began gamboling coquettishly.
It felt like some kind of veterinary
emergency. "What are you doing and
what do I do about it?" I demanded,
gravely like Raymond Burr. It worked
a treat! "Come gambol coquettishly
with me," she sang, so I nodded gravely,

and together we gamboled down the street.
It was a risk I had to take, not knowing
what her game was. People pointed
and laughed as we passed, gamboling.
I'm pretty sure

we ended up on the internet, not even
trading naked pictures or anything, just
gamboling endlessly down the street! I bet
we look ridiculous.

But it felt pretty good. Liberating.
What more
could one ask

from a girl like this? Anyway,

like I said at the start, I'm glad
I asked. It's good to know she knows
it's the kind of thing I'd

ask her, and it's fun to guess,
but much better to know
the answer