So, here's the story. I'm a large woman. I have large breasts, generous hips, powerful thighs. I'm used to attention--particularly if I happen to wear a knee length skirt and a slightly transparent tank top. My issue isn't with being noticed--I'll even go so far to say that I like being noticed. My issue is with being noticed by the wrong people. These people can be anyone from fashionistas who make comments like, "I would just quit eating if I looked like that!" to homeless-looking men who smell of cigarettes, mariguana, and alcohol.

I'm not used to getting sweet talked by sexy men into going down a side street 'for a walk.' Especially not handsome spanish guys from Barcelona who are named Manuelo. He was hot. I couldn't help myself. I liked it that he noticed me and wanted me to come with him *right now.* Which I, of course, did. One just can't pass up these opportunities when they come along. Only, I wasn't feeling very sexy. I was wearing old (and I mean old) clothes. My hair was tied up in an old fashion bun. Everything about me must have screamed *not into sex right now.* Yet, it could have happened. There in the park, under a tree at 10 in the morning! Why, why, why when I'm on my way to meet someone? Why oh why do I hate being late so much that I pass up the opportunity to take this guy back to my apartment and make some noise my roommate would inevitably complain about? These are the questions that flash through my head. Well, that, and why would an intelligent *not* naive woman walk down a side street with a dangerously attractive, agressive, alpha male and expect to escape unmolested?

Could have been bad. real bad. It could have been explosive--but instead he didn't hear me when I said, "No." When I said, "I have to go." "Some other time." And that pisses me off. I didn't want to be held there against my will. I didn't want to be the object of some man's mastabatory thrust. I wanted the raw experience but I wanted to go into it with a willingness for adventure and a love of bodies and their sensate opportunities. I wanted to be soft and warm in strong arms--lean into the touch of his lips, hands, pelvis. Instead, I left. I kissed him once, softly, and ran away when he let me go.

That was one week ago today. I still want the experience but on my terms, with my pleasure cushioned on respect and pure delight in the momentary experience.