Sunday, March 20, 2011

Two nights ago, I was at a bar with some friends of mine, when a girl who was clearly very well inebriated told me without provocation that I have a beautiful jawline.

Comments like that are, at least for me, few and far between.

I thanked her, sincerely.

Then, shortly thereafter, a friend of my friend who had been occupying the seat next to me was on her way outside for a cigarette when she asked me to remind her of my name.

I told her, and she looked at me and then, without warning, she raked the fingers of her right hand through my hair as though she knew that I was uncomfortable and was trying to settle me somehow.

Her hand on my scalp felt good.

Too good.

The sensation was so exciting, and yet I hated every second of it.

I have only ever allowed three people to touch my hair like that, and only one of them really desired to take advantage of the unspoken invitation.

There is the occasional unpermitted infringement, of course, but I am very picky about who I allow to touch me in such an intimate manner.

My scalp is very...sensitive.

I wish that she...

I wish that she hadn't done that.

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