There’s a new gas station attendant at my local Chevron. His name is Gary*, which is pretty much all I know about him. He’s got dreamy hazel eyes and always breaks into a sexy smile when he’s filling my tank. I can’t tell if he’s flirting or unwittingly looks at everyone that way. I know he works on weekday mornings, so I time my fill-ups accordingly.
I have a knack for striking up interesting conversations with random or regular people in my life. He’s one of them. Today, my goal was to find out more about Gary.
I volunteered that I hike daily, and he mentioned getting back on his mountain bike. He likes to trail ride. When I asked if he rides where I go, he said that he likes to hit the upper trail where he’s not supposed to, and that people don’t like that very much. Oh, Gary, you rule breaker, you.
As I gaze at his suspiciously hunting-inspired raincoat (it’s camouflaged and we live in Oregon), I force myself to not pay attention to the flags he’s flying. He’s got all three right now — red, yellow, and green. But I only focus on those green eyes and the flag to match. And green means go, you know.
Is it ok that Gas Station Gary is a diversion, that I only want to imagine having mind-blowing sex with him because it’s likely we aren’t a good match otherwise? I think it’s healthy to have sexual fantasies and sometimes acceptable to play them out in real life.
I have a hard time with unattached casual sex, so I wonder why I still get crushes on people who don’t offer more than a few orgasms. It’s probably best to keep it all in my head right now.
Frankly, it’s impossible not to catch feelings when our tongues are dancing in our mouths. I mean, come on. I can’t get in and get out like the gas pump. That’s why Vivian didn’t kiss Richard at first in Pretty Woman. Feelings can be dangerous.
But he is just my filler-upper guy. Why worry about flag colors with him? I can enjoy his company every week and leave it at that, or invite him over for some fun and tension release. I haven’t had sexual relations since my seven-year-old was a baby. Yeah, way too long, right?
Next time I see Gary, I’ll flirt a little more and see what I can stir up between us. Why not use some gas pump innuendo while I’m at it. Hey, Gary, want to fill me up at my place? I’ve been running on empty for a while, and I sure could use some fuel.
See you at the pump, cutie.
*I used his real name, because it sounds great and I’m taking my chances.
This post was previously published on medium.com.
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