Opening Wounds with an Ice Cream Scoop:
Questions about Actions left Unresolved

The Ice cream boy slides into my bed. It is a shock, I can assure you. Having met him only hours ago and purchasing from him a kiddie sized coconut, Im not sure what to think. Here I am, at his friends house. One girl downstairs is waiting for her boyfriend, the other sleeping in the bed above me, and I am on the floor, with a sleeping bag and a too cute guy laying about three feet away from me, yet under the same blanket.

The standing fan falls over and hits both us, and we scramble to pick it back up. Somehow I end up on top of him and he turns into me, while I hold him in my arms. Our heads land together on the pillow and he pulls me into a soft kiss. Slowly it becomes more intense.

"It's hot in here," he says, taking his shirt off. It is absolutely sweltering in the humidity of Cape Cod weather. Oh god, think I, his body is perfect. It isn't too defined...but streamlined and sturdy. His hand finds the elastic band of my boxer briefs. I twist his blonde hair between my fingers as he comes in for another kiss.

How did I end up here, you ask?

Well, clearly I went and bought Ice cream. To be more precise, however, a friend and I went and got ice cream where a very attractive, very handsome but boyishly cute guy works. The ice cream store is an hour away from my house, but we felt like a drive. He invited us to go over his friends house, sadly, only I could attend...and here I am, four hours, 3 shots of vodka chased with Black Opal Shiraz wine, and a half bottle of cabernet sauvignon later, on the floor, under the covers with this interesting, intelligent, sweet guy.

I allow him to kiss my neck, something I normally avoid, and I slowly start to lose control of myself. We switch and now he is on top of me, but out of the blue I get my senses back-

"Kelly," I stutter, pointing to the girl, half passed out on the bed.

"Shes out cold," he says, "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know...I just don't feel right. We don't have to rush...we can always finish another time..."

"Oh, absolutely, totally. You're totally right," he agrees, and we lay back down.

We spend the whole night talking, holding each other. I don't think we'll end up doing that again, though...we leave for school in a matter of weeks, and of course, he is an hours drive away. In fact, he and I talked about it, and it was made quite clear that it wouldn't happen again.

Why is it that I am dissatisfied with the way this story ends? My friend, Beau, suggests that I should be happy that I didn't allow someone to use me. My response is, "Yes but I could've used him, too, had I known it was a one time thing!"

Am I wrong in feeling that way? Do two wrongs really not make a right?

For years I have felt that if I get what I want, I did what was right for me. But suddenly, I find I am confused about whether my inturruption of our midnight rendezvous was the thing that I needed at that point. Because I saw us as something more than a one night stand, does that mean I was right in cutting it off and not allowing it to be that?

Should I be annoyed with myself for allowing self pleasure at the small cost of not getting exactly what I want?

Somehow I find myself oddly unhappy with the way the story ends. When I type out the end...where we lay back down, and later agree only to be friends until we leave for school, why is it that I would prefer to finish it with an amazing orgasm and a never exchanged phone number?