I started playing a lot of scrabble on the internet. To be honest, I’d started playing a lot, even before I left my husband. In fact, I played so much I’m surprised he didn’t walk out on me. Scrabble becomes obsessive. Addictive. Any woman who has recently walked out on her husband knows that.
I played with Mary from Wisconsin, Suzie from Alberta, and Ahmed from Egypt. I beat Ohmolimo from Lagos, and loved beating him, especially because he had Prof in front of his name. And then one day I found Rob. A local guy. Really good looking. A little young. And shirtless. Scrabble took on a whole new meaning.
‘Your move’, I said to Rob. ‘Try speed up a little. It’s Scrabble not heart surgery.’ I had a school lift to do. We were down to the last few tiles. 8 left. I was ahead by 30 points and knew I was going to win. I hadn’t won anything for ages. I needed this.
My heart started beating faster. This was the most excitement I had had in ages. I watched the screen carefully. And then – he came up with one of those pathetic two letter words. Wo.
I didn’t know what Wo meant, and I didn’t care. It was on a triple letter, triple word score. It gave him 32 points. Minus the four I still had on my table. He won. I was furious. (It may have been mostly separation fury coming out, but I don’t think so). Anyway. The screen lit up and he sends me a message .
‘You’re a terrible scrabble player”, he says, “and a really bad loser”.
‘I know, rough few weeks, I needed that win.’
I am filled with self pity. “Ever heard of titillating scrabble?” he asks me. “Titillating what?” “Scrabble”. And he gives me the rules. It’s a simple sex game, he says. “Do a word. Any word. And afterwards, in the ‘chat section’ write a sentence, a sexy sentence, using that word”. I laugh because I know I can win this. I have the foulest mouth in Johannesburg; my spelling is fantastic, and my imagination vivid. Also, I am completely and totally bored.
My word – BENT. ‘With his strong arms, he BENT me over the tennis court net and pulled down my frilly panties.
’ His word – FOAMING. ‘You’re so hot baby; you have me FOAMING at the mouth, FOAMING from my spout.’
I’m laughing so hard I spit my tea over the computer screen.
STIFF – Pour me a STIFF drink while I gaze at your STIFF member.
CARPET – Oh, my knees, so sore in this position, I’m getting CARPET burns.
Suddenly, out of the blue, he says – “D’ya wanna meet?” .
“Excuse me?” I ask, swallowing hard and feeling a small flutter in my chest.
”Come on. Let’s meet. We could, like, ‘do it’ for real, you know…”.
There’s a long pause, before I type anything else. I make myself a cup of tea, eat two pieces of cake and go back to the computer. He’s still there. He tells me that he adores older women. Not so much of the ‘older women’, I snap at him. “I am a stallion” he says. “Always hard. I never get tired. Women have more orgasms with me in one night than in their entire life. I am irresistible”.
This scrabble player has an ego much bigger than a triple word score. I’m intrigued. I go and look at his scrabble profile and go through his pics. Most of them are of his bulging manhood, in a tight white speedo with at least 9 inches perfectly packed away. Another is of him in a threesome. My pic is of me wearing the dress I wore to my son’s Confirmation. I think about it for a full ten minutes. I’m not going to go through with this. I am deeply suspicious of his perfectly sculpted body, his unbelievable package and his unquestioned virility. I’ve seen enough movies to know that the pictures you see are not necessarily of the person who posted them.
I also haven’t had sex for about six months. I am tempted. Nearly single. And horny.
I can do this. I pour myself a STIFF drink, sit on the CARPET, FOAM at the mouth and think to myself, would it be such an issue if I BEND the rules a little bit. We set up a date. But first, I give him a list of rules. \
3) No terms of endearment
4) Discretion, condoms, discretion, condoms.
5) No means No.
I thought I should have a lot more rules, but I couldn’t think of any. I struggled to find a place to meet. My regular places would be filled with my women friends. At other places I could bump into my soon to be ex husband’s friends. I didn’t want to go anywhere where my children’s friends’ parents might see me.
And I also had nothing to wear.