She Tells Me I Have Boundary Issues

While She Kisses My Neck.

I woke bolt upright at five am after three hours sleep and a heavy night’s drinking. I do that sometimes. It can go either way with me. Either I get a deathly ill don’t-speak-to-me-hangover, or I wake up chipper and full of life at the crack of dawn. That morning at five am, there was no-one else awake of course, but I felt full of the desire to interact with the world. I contemplated going downstairs to wake up my friend Sloopy who was asleep on my sofa, but rejected the idea as too cruel. Instead I headed out for a walk and a latte.

The world at seven am on a fine Spring day is a beautiful place, when it’s obviously going to be hot later but for now it’s simply deliciously mild. A gentle breeze brushed my skin and the luxurious feeling of it gave me goosebumps though it was far from cold. Few people were out and those who were on the streets were friendly dog-walkers who smile and say, “good morning” as they pass. There’s a certain camaraderie about being awake when so few other people are.

At the café I realised, horrifyingly, that I was still quite drunk as I slurred my order and took too long deciding on a muffin. No longer feeling fit to interact with the world, I ordered it to go and headed up to the park to watch the waking city.

The memories of the night before came seeping into my consciousness. Something niggled and I couldn’t put my finger on what. I kissed a girl – a friend, Laika, who has a partner she’s been with forever. It was her who lifted my chin and drew me in for the kiss, however, so I felt no guilt or shame about that. Besides, her girlfriend doesn’t seem to mind her playing within certain specified boundaries. Previously, she’d flirted wildly and openly with Shakti, who’d lapped it up. I’d rolled my eyes at this, I’d seen it as pandering to her attention-seeking. However, aimed at me it was strangely compelling and I silently asked Shakti for her forgiveness for my judgement. Maybe I just played into her attention seeking, too, but I certainly had fun doing so. Very few people could get away with what Laika does. Early in the evening, before the vodka has even made its presence felt, she gave me a lingering hug with a bonus ass-grab, the first of many for that night. Later, she’d followed me into a toilet cubicle, not for any dubious reason I believe. Just for the illicit thrill. Ultimately, she’committed to her partner, who seemed open hearted and secure enough to let her flirt.

The boundaries on that particular evening seemed to melt away. Usually the lesbian community is clique-ish in its interactions. There are groups who are tight-knit, but don’t tend to intermingle. On the dance floor these groups stick together in closed circles. Not on this night, however. The dance floor was one big flowing fusion. Strangers danced and talked and flirted, moving with ease between one another. I was enjoying these women I’d maybe seen before but never interacted with. It was so easy to chat, no pressure from anyone for anything to be more than what it was.

And then a woman, Donna, I sort-of know dancing closer and closer. She had her hand on my hip and she whispered in my ear. Truthfully, she was yelling in my ear to be heard over the music, but the effect is of a whisper.

“Sloopy looks a bit like a fish out of water,” she whisper-shouted. I looked over at Sloopy, my straight friend from a small town who I dragged out for a big-city lesbian night.
“Be gentle with her, she’s straight,” I shouted into Donna’s ear.
“Yeah, but she strikes me as the sort of person who would be a fish out of water wherever she was.” I’ve known Sloopy for many many years, and it’s an apt summation of her. I told Donna so. “Well, I’m getting pretty good at making assessments of people I’ve known for only a couple of minutes.” That’s right, Donna is a social worker. Part of her job is assessing the needs of drug addicts to recommend appropriate care.
“So what do you make of me, then?”
“You very much know yourself, which is a rare thing.” I smiled self-indulgently, but Donna carried on speaking. “But your job is all about power… and you use the telling of people about your job as a kind of power. You need to think about why you do that. Plus you don’t always maintain your boundaries well.” I realised that Donna was kissing my neck. “Is it ok that I’m doing this?” she asked. I made a non-committal noise, not really caring one way or another. I was busy thinking about what she said about telling people about my work and wondering if it is true. As Donna’s lips moved determinedly up my neck and towards my own lips, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

It’s that comment which niggled at me as I watched the sun rise over the city, sipping on my takeaway latte. What did she mean? Is it true? What should I do about it?

Later that night, Shakti and I made a mission to get Subways. Driving home I mentioned Donna’s comment to her. It took a bit of courage-building to do so. I somewhat expected her to come out with something along the lines of, “I haven’t wanted to mention it, but you can be very manipulative in that respect.” Instead,
“That’s bullshit!” she spits. “You tell people when you’re comfortable about doing so, and that’s the way it should be. What’s wrong with having a bit of power in the situation. Donna can be so manipulative, she knows all about going for people’s weak spots. Such bullshit!”