Valentine's Ink Blot Test

"Look," I almost asked for her phone number, but I didn't think I could deal with a rejection gracefully, so I said, "let me give you my phone number. I'd be glad to hear from you." She nodded; I gave it to her. And then there was a kiss and a good-bye and I was out the door.

The walk home was strange. I had made a 'walk of shame' before, but this was different. I had never been asked to leave the night of. My cock and pubes were sticky with Anna, and the head was still sensitive and uncomfortable against the bare denim of my pants.

I walked, pondering the evening. What had Anna's issue been? She clearly had not wanted to be alone until she had gotten fucked. Had she been dumped, or had something bad happened to a boyfriend? Was this a self image issue, or an existential breakdown? If she was drunk and just having a bad night, she hid it well.

The walk home was unpleasant, compounded by the fact that I chain smoked and drank my way home. I considered trying to find her again, but I decided that unless I saw her on campus or at a party, it probably wouldn't happen. I could have gone back to Hilton Hall, even the next day, but it seemed like it would be a weird invasion of her privacy. In the spring, Facebook rolled out at our college, in the days when your email address had to end in ".edu" to get an account, but I never saw her in the 'Annas' on there. She had vanished, it seemed.

And with that, I was done talking.

My wife hadn't bristled or been uncomfortable when I was describing the sex to her. "That was quite a story," she said. "Is it true?"

"Mostly. You could call Charles and ask him, I suppose."

"I could, but I don't need to. When is the last time we even saw him, anyway?"

"I don't know. It's a shame to grow apart from someone you are close to, isn't it?"

"It is... Why didn't you ever tell me about Anna before?"

"It never seemed necessary." She and I had told each other about important past partners... the Bad Exes, the Firsts, the Ones That Got Away, and so on. But we had never seen a need to share a whole list of partners. "It's Valentine's Day, and your makeup reminded me of her, I guess."

"How often do you think about her?"

"Rarely," I answered truthfully.

"So why did you tell me that story? Did we really need to spend Valentine's Day with you telling me about some girl you slept with when you were twenty?"

"Did we need to spend it fighting about something inconsequential, something we could have just talked about to resolve?" I responded.

"Touche," she said.

"I told you that story because it's a Rorschach. An ink-blot test. Most stories are. What did you see?"

"You... do know those are basically just pseudoscience, right?"

"That's not the point, and you know it."

"Well... what I saw was that you were as bad with girls when you were in college as when you met me." It could have been mean, but the smile was meant to make it affectionate.

"Ouch," I said, not really meaning it.

"I think..." she paused, considering, "that you told that story because, for you, it's about how a positive experience can still leave you feeling let down, and that maybe... it's about letting things go..."

I smiled at her. It wasn't a smile to say she was right, or wrong, just a smile.

"We've spent tonight fighting over stuff that doesn't matter... let's just try again," I said. "We can still have ourselves a happy fucking Valentine's Day."

And she smiled back at me. "Are you saying you give up, and that I'm right? Because that's how this works."

I knew that smile. "Never. Just offering a truce."

"That's as good as a surrender! Ten points for me!" she joked, pumping her fist in the air. She liked to pretend to keep score of who won in fights. Then, taking a kind-but-serious tone, "A do-over sounds nice. Let me go get myself cleaned up."

"I'm less worried about you cleaning up than I am about you getting your ass back in that dress, so I can tear it off of you."

"Ohhh, I'd like that," she said slowly, with another smile. This smile was different. It was the smile that lit up the room for me the first time I saw it. "I'll get dressed again, and then tell you about a boy I hooked up with a few years before we met. You can spank me while I talk."

We both laughed, and she went to change, as I breathed a sigh of relief, watching the fire. I still wonder about Anna from time to time, but time has a way of forcing you to let things go.

I smiled, looking forward to what I would see in the ink-blot test of my wife's story.

*

Thanks for reading! This was my entry into the Valentine's Contest in 2018, so please vote! Feedback - good or bad - is always appreciated. And I promise my next story won't be centered on a flashback. May you all have a happy, romantic, and sexy Valentine's Day!