Dec 272011
 

When a man tells you who he is, you should really listen the first time. However, since first impressions aren’t always accurate, I decided to give Mr. Cheap from last friday a second chance.

 

Mostly I did so because he seemed very very interested in seeing me again, and didn’t seem to be just out for sex.

 

He wanted to get together Christmas Eve after he had dinner with his father, and I told him we’d see. I didn’t promise him anything. He called me around 9:30pm to see if I wanted to go out. Since we didn’t know what was open, he offered that we should go to his place for drinks.

 

Sounds like he wanted me over for sex right? Yep, thats what I thought too. By the time 9:30 rolled around, I wasn’t really wanting to go anywhere so I told him that I wasn’t comfortable enough with him to go to his apartment. Normally when I meet a man who just wants sex, I would have heard grumbling or trying to talk me into it. He didn’t balk at it all, but simply respected my decision. He did tease later that it would be a better night for him if I’d come over for a drink, and honestly, I probably would have thought him a little bit of a pussy if he hadn’t thrown in a little bit of a try.

 

We decided to try again on Christmas day if my Christmas party ended early. It didn’t. I ended up drinking a lot and not getting home till 2am.  So I asked about Monday. He called on Monday and we talked a little bit, but he was tired so we decided on Tuesday.. today.. to go for coffee. He wanted to meet during the day since he had the day off.

 

Now if he really only wanted sex, he’d have met me at night right? Anyway, we’d talked several times during the weekend and he was always respectful and never brought up sex nor once did he even attempt anything raunchy. He started to grow on me, and I could begin to see what kind of life we might have together. He also was very considerate of my issues. He seemed to accept them as just part of me, and not a detriment.

 

A couple things though had started to bug me. He didn’t seem at all open to new ideas from me. I’m not sure if he thought of them as criticism, but it wasn’t. Just a new approach to what he was doing, or feeling out the limits of his interests in his hobby. He also seemed less inclined to do something if it wasn’t his idea or within his “time frame” but these were pretty subtle so I wasn’t sure if it was just differences in communication or external conflicts that I wasn’t aware of at the time.

 

Anyway, we met today for coffee. I haven’t been feeling well due to allergies, and so he told me to take my time. He had some work to do and I could just show up whenever, he also mentioned that after coffee we should go to dinner. (Really awesome way to handle me btw. Loved it.) So I took my time getting ready and showed up around an hour later, a time estimate I had told him to expect.

 

I arrive and he greets me happily with a hug, and he walks with me up to the counter as I order my coffee. I take this as a good sign.  We have to wait in line to order, and we talk a bit. When I get to the front of the line, the server asks me what I want, and I order. He hangs back and waits “in line” till the other server is free and orders his refill from the other server. He doesn’t even attempt to pay for my coffee, which he could have done so easily as the servers both thought we were together. (This is strike two, and I’m a little ticked off. My coffee was a whole $1.75)

 

We sit down and have a working date. He’s working on his stuff, and I’m working on my stuff, applying for jobs and whatnot. Yes, he is well aware that I am looking for work. He is just not well aware of how broke I really am. (I still am about $400 short for January’s rent, and I still don’t know how I’m going to come up with it.)

 

An hour or so later, he asks if I’m ready to get some food. I say I am, and we start discussing places to go. He wants to go to an overpriced cafe, and I want to do a pizza place nearby. We decide on the pizza but it’s closed when we arrive. So we end up going to a burger place nearby. (Worst burgers in town by far btw)

 

We enter and walk up to order. He orders first, and the cashier asks, “Are these together or separate?”

 

He quickly answers, “Separate.”

 

(Strike three.)

 

So I order my burger combo. A whole $7 meal. I sit down and I’m severely disappointed in him.

 

My memory floats back to our first “date” where he mentions how careful he is with his money and how he’s managed to pay down his mortgage significantly. I call him a “Cheapskate” in my head several times, and start to really see him as selfish.

 

We get along well though, and I can see us being friends. As we leave and say goodbye, he gives me a huge hug and refuses to let go. He’s hugging me tight and massaging my back slightly. When he does finally release me a little, he moves in for a kiss. He kisses pretty well, so it’s not a total loss I guess.

 

He however has been removed from any kind of long-term dating viability. I won’t be going “out” with him again. We may possibly become friends with benefits, but we won’t be “dating”… he may not be aware of this decision. I have no idea what is going through his mind, but that is what is going through mine.

 

I may use him for sex… maybe… we’ll see. Otherwise, he’s in the “just friends” category and he won’t be getting out.

 

Done.

Mar 152011
 

Tonight was frustrating. I started out at an event hosted by an awesome friend, and I half drop by just to see her.. and half drop by because it’s free food and I’m poor.

Anyway, I run into this girl that I know.. who says we must go drinking together and that she’s all mine tonight. Next thing I know she’s agreeing to stay for drinks, and putting me off.. making me wait.. wait .. wait.. OH and there’s this girl I don’t know that we’re waiting for.. before we can go “party”.

Great.

Well it turns out the waiting was worth it as we ended up at a free party I wouldn’t have attended otherwise. Free Drinks. Free Food. Free Ice Cream.

Yes, if I haven’t gained 10 pounds from all the “free” stuff this SXSW I’ll be shocked.

Anyway, she introduces me to a ton of people… half of which I don’t remember now.

Anyway, I go to refresh my drink (for free mind you.. how awesome is that? – Thanks Google btw, oh and for the free glow in the dark glass) and in front of me a guy turns around and starts to talk to me.

Then he starts to flirt, and when I ask, he says he’s alone as his other compatriots have left for other venues. So I introduce him to our “crowd” as it was.

He spends the entire time talking only to me. He mentions having had a profile recently on OkCupid, and I mention that I have one as well.

It comes time to refresh drinks, and he asks to refresh mine, but I decide to just go with him. I’m nice like that.. plus I wanted alone time with him.

He was geeky. An IT lawyer. Cute. Smart. And loved Office Space and could quote the Princess Bride. (I wanted to lock him in the nearest basement)

We talk about my work, and he says clearly several times that he needs “private tutoring” in a flirty joking but not really joking flirt.

We refill our drinks and return the group. Most of the group then decides to go to a bar far far away, so Geek-lawyer, Mike and I stay.

As things go.. we run into some friends of mine. They greet me with open arms.. they’re also all male.. and they’re also completely platonic friends. But Mr Lawyer doesn’t know that.

Hee heee heeee

Anyway, eventually I tell Mr Lawyer off to the side that these guys are friends of mine and that they’re like little brothers to me.

He obviously relaxes. No question about it, he sighs relief.

The party and free booze has ended, so we head to the next “free booze” party. He makes a point to stay by my side the entire way and look out for me.

We get there.. and I run to the toilet. The last party only had portapotties so I was waiting for real toilets and crossing my legs.

I get back, and he’s waiting for me. I grab a free drink, and we tackle the party together. We spent most of the time talking one on one.

At one point though, he points out a “nemesis” which is talking to a friend of mine. So I break up that conversation.

Nemesis and Lawyer end up in a conversation.

Nemesis: “Yes the wife and I…” blah blah blah-bity-blah “How about you? Any kids?”

Lawyer “yes, I have a 6 yr old and an 18 month old” (this is the first he’s brought up kids and he seems to be watching my expression for “running away” looks.)

He doesn’t mention a wife, but merely mentions kids.. so I’m good.

It’s shortly after this point that I realize this guy is being awfully attentive without being handsy. Which is usually a good sign that a guy is used to relating to women within the confines of a committed relationship. He was always checking in with me, and making sure I was happy.

I did have a guy be attentive and handsy… and Mr Lawyer seemed quite in a rush to part me from that guy (that guy was hotter than Lawyer btw).

But I realize.. despite giving Lawyer several opportunities to touch me or take things to another level.. he doesn’t and seems to avoid it.

It is then I start to pay attention to his hands and look for the ring.

His ring hand suddenly always seems to be in his pocket and when it was visible it was behind his other hand. Odd.

We head to another party. We’re crossing a busy street and he lags behind.

Suddenly he shows up beside me and offers me a gold bangle-bracelet. “Here this is a symbol of my undying love for you.”

I know full-well he just saw it on the street and picked it up to give to me. He actually risked getting run over by a car to do it as well.

It was a sweet gesture, and I gladly put it on my wrist.. pretending to believe his claim of undying love as all good flirty girls who have been plied with free alcohol do.

Then we get to the next bar. I’d been standing non-stop for nearly 5 hours, so I took a seat. He asked if I wanted anything.

“Spaten Dunkel.. if they have it.”

He said they did.. but never ordered it. He got caught up in conversation with some stranger.

I went to the toilet. When I came back he was glad to see me, and wanted to make sure I wasn’t being neglected. I put him at ease, and got distracted talking to someone else. He moved off in a conversation with someone else as well.

Then I decide .. F’this.. Lets see what he does.

So I walk over and boldly put my arm around his waist through the “arm hole” he’s made by putting his hand in his pocket. He doesn’t complain, but also never removes his hand from his pocket nor puts his arm around me.

At this point, I am watching like a hawk for this ring. Sure enough, I finally see it.

He never took it off, just was very good at always having that ring finger out of sight. He continued to hide his hand the rest of the night, until Mike, Lawyer, some other girl, and I left looking for pizza. (or at least thats what Lawyer said he wanted to find.)

We end up going a few doors down to another bar. Lawyer & Mike get our drinks, while the girl & I sit down at a table.

Lawyer: “What would you like to drink? Vodka on the rocks, right?” (He gets bonus points for actually wanting to buy me a drink, and for listening… it’s an attractive trait in any man.)

Me: “Aww thanks, but just water please.” (It was nearly 2am when the bars close, and I needed to drive home.)

He and Mike return to the table with 3 shots and my water, only Lawyer doesn’t sit next to me, he sits next to the girl. Mike sits next to me, and both of them pay complete attention to this girl.

I watch Lawyer’s hands to see if he slips up again with his always absent left hand. The girl is sitting on his right, and for the first 10 minutes we sat there, his left hand stayed in his pocket out of sight.

Then suddenly, Lawyer and the girl are holding hands for a second. Then he brings out his left hand.

It had to be on purpose. It had been so elusive all night, and suddenly now its making a big display as he clasps his hands before him and rests them on the table making certain that his left hand is out for full view of the ring on his finger.

It’s now 2am and we get kicked out of the bar. I barely get a “nice to meet you” as he walks away. Doesn’t even bother to walk me to my car, or linger at all. Just waves and walks away.

The Ceelo song runs through my mind… “Fuck you.. and uh, Fuck her too!”

(Seriously if you’re going to pretend all fucking night that we’re awesome friends and inseparable, at least have the decency to act like a good friend at least when we part goodnight.)

Jan 202011
 

The following is an old post from 2010. I held off on posting it because I was not in my right mind – as you’ll see by the end of the post – and I wanted to wait until the anger passed to post it.  Then I wanted to wait until the guy himself was essentially forgotten from my blog, lest he suffer any backlash from what could simply be my own psychosis altering perceptions…

It was this (plus a few other things) that convinced me to stop dating all together for quite a while last year, and it is this “thing” that rears it’s ugly head every time I do date.

I don’t expect this to make a whole lot of sense to those of you who have not been through sexual abuse, and I believe this is the most personal piece I’ve put up here.

I’m posting this for two reasons:

1. I have held myself to be as honest about my dating life as much as possible on this blog, especially with those things that nag me… those things that are like therapy for me to be open and honest about.. the things that in some way, might help someone else who has been in the same boat.

2. I have to post it for myself. I’ve been needing to post this, much like people sometimes feel the need to talk to their therapists. I have been waiting. I have not forgotten this post. At least once a week since I wrote it, I have asked myself “Should I post it? Is it time yet?”

I have to stop waiting. I have to stop being considerate of his feelings. I have post this so I can move on.. for me.

*************

I keep replaying scenes from the weekend in my mind. These scenes when first played were biased with “love” and caring. Tainted with hope of something promising, and excused by “Well we’re just learning about each other.”

But even then, with those descriptors, I found myself after each event becoming more anxious, more angry, and more withdrawn.  I found myself less excited about the next sexual encounter with him.

The more I look back over what actually happened, the more I get this nagging feeling.. this red light.. telling me caution. It’s strange. But despite all his chivalry.. all his natural aggression to protect me.. despite his need to be my hero.. I kept feeling this nagging.. this undercurrent of caution.. that he was a misogynist.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t fear him. Or at least not outright. I trusted him not to hurt me physically, and I suppose emotionally..

It’s possible that my own personal psychosis has completely made up this side of him. But I don’t think so.

You see.. he couldn’t really get hard unless I was subjugated. The more humbling the position, the harder he seemed to get.

But like I said, this could be all my own psychosis.

See.. as I’ve mentioned before.. I was orally raped when I was 18 (or 19 or somewhere around there). As such I have issues with sucking cock, blow jobs, licking the red banana.. whatever you want to call it.  My head in a guy’s  privates.. well its a little bit of a land-mine.

I have since the oral rape had good… or should I say.. non-traumatic, experiences with it, but those have been very few and far between and there are rules that must be adhered to or I will flip out. Since I require a lot of trust in my partner in order to do it, my opportunities have been pretty scarce. Those that I manage to trust enough, often refuse to let me try or didn’t much care if I did.

Our first time together.. this guy and I.. I trusted him. I don’t know why, but I did, and he knew full well ahead of time my “rules” for oral.

We were fooling around in bed, and I wanted to try, so without a word, I leaned over and took him in my mouth. Just for a few seconds. It was good. I felt good that I could do it for that short time, and he said he felt honored that I trusted him that much. It was a very sweet moment.

The next time we were together though, he pleasured me with his fingers then laid on his back. While I appreciated his efforts, I didn’t request it. Had he asked me, I’d just have preferred to go straight to fucking, but he seemed to enjoy torturing me with orgasm after orgasm.. and what girl is going to complain about that?

This is when the ugliness began to rear its head. He began to talk about how he thought that being nice to a woman outside the bedroom.. by doing certain favors, tasks, etc.. then earned him treats sexually (and by treats he meant blowjobs). My alarm bells went off, but I ignored it. He was sweet and loving, and couldn’t be serious. But it stuck in the back of my mind.

He then laid on his back, and began to talk to me about blow jobs… He talked about asking me to do it, and how to ask me for it. (“There has to be a way to ask for it” he said)

How did we get from me doing a short few second trial to him feeling it was ok to ask for it?

My chest got tight. I didn’t know how to answer him. It was a reasonable question, and it’s not unreasonable to ask for things in bed. I should be able to field such kinds of questions. Reasonably. Rationally.

It’s like the question itself starts a war inside me. A war that no matter which choice I choose, I lose.

It’s not reasonable. It’s not rational. And for the most part it has nothing at all to do with the person asking, and it’s impossible to put this internal war into real words to explain it to them (or even to you now).

With that question, releases as well the following thoughts… most of which are phrases from previous men on the subject:

“It’s a common blow job, it means nothing.”

“So you get yours, I get nothing?”

“Oh come on, you can do it. You haven’t even tried.”

“Get over it already.”

“Stop being such a baby.”

“It’s only fair after what you got already.”

“You’re just being silly.”

“Turn about is fair play.”

“God, you’re pathetic. How will anyone want you?”

“Really? No? You’re that broken?”

“You’re not going to get over this if you don’t even try.”

How can anyone say no with that running through their head?

While I was “umming” and “uhhhing” over how to address this issue, he asked me to do it. I did.

It was ok, and I was glad I managed to half-way do it.. but I felt pressured. I resented him asking. I resented not being able to tell him no. I hated myself for not being able to take joy in it. I hoped though that the next time we got together that things would be better.

Our next encounter, he wanted to perform oral on me. (I had been on my period previously, so it wasn’t an option until this encounter) He’d been wanting to do it the other times, but due to my physical condition.. it wasn’t an option. Eeek that reads like he wanted to do it while I was menstrating.. no no.. he likes doing oral just not on menstrating women. (And if he did want to do oral on menstrating women..*shiver* Eww I’m sorry I have my limits.)

Anyway, he gets done doing oral on me.. and then without really asking.. he moves into 69 position. Him on top of me.. his junk dangling in my face…his body pinning me down.

“Is this ok for you?”

“uhh.. umm…”

It was less of a question and more of a suggestion or statement. It wasn’t ok, and eventually I told him so.

— side note: I honestly don’t get how anyone likes 69. How in the hell is that effective? I’m sorry, but I cannot multi-task like that. If I’m giving, I’m concentrated on giving and their reaction. If I’m getting, then I’m losing control. I cannot lose control and concentrate on someone else’s pleasure at the same time. If you love 69, please email me and explain how to do it. —

Once he got off of me, he laid on his side and again asked me to suck him. I tried, with much the same emotional crapola running through my head as before… but with much more resentment and much less ability to do it.

Again as he had all the previous times.. he couldn’t stay hard for actual sex, and since I can’t finish a blow job to its completion. I ended up giving him a hand job. Disappointed, resentful, and angry. (I like actual intercourse, and besides the pressuring to perform blow jobs, I wasn’t getting laid.)

The next day we tried again.  I instigated, because he was leaving soon and I wanted to actually have sex.

He gets me warmed up with his hand.. I orgasm a few times.. nothing huge but good anyway.. Then he rolls over and asks for a blow job. (seriously? you’ve got to be kidding me!)

He saw my reluctance, then said:

“Ok, well come join me in the shower then.”

I didn’t want to. I had no idea what he wanted me to do in the shower, but I didn’t really want to and I knew it wouldn’t be actual sex. I’d already showered, and was clean. My hair was blown dry, and I had put my makeup on just a few hours before.

But he insisted. “It’ll be fun. Come on.”

I made up lame excuses. I say lame because they were excuses. Like 69, I’m not a big fan of sharing a shower, let alone trying sex in a shower. I’ve been there done that, and more often than not one of us falls down and gets hurt. (Not to mention I do things in the shower that I’d rather not have my lover watch.)

I eventually relented.

We get in the shower.. he washes.. then asks me to blow him.. in the shower.. with the water running.. with him standing and me kneeling.. the same position as when I was orally raped, only now I’ve got the fear of getting water in my nose. I made him turn off the shower.

This was my first attempt ever at that position. I congratulated myself for even attempting it, but when we were done.. I was unbelievably angry and insecure.

He walked out of the shower as if nothing was wrong.. didn’t really ask how it was for me. Packed up his stuff and went home.

I was angry at myself, and I was angry at him for asking. I was so angry that I could have written a book about what an asshole he was. My mind jumped to all the things he did wrong that weekend. All his inadequacies, and had I not known him better, I could have easily written him off as a “using me for sex asshole”.

But it was all me (ok mostly me). I didn’t put up complaint. He didn’t even have to insist, just look at me expectantly like it was normal to expect a blowjob… like making toast. I didn’t even tell him that asking me was causing me issues. I grinned and bore it.

Like a good girl.

And I found myself hating him. I hated myself.

Crazy right?

The anger continued all night. All I could taste and smell all night was balls, despite showering and eating, and washing again, and brushing my teeth, and eating more… all I could taste and smell was man balls and I couldn’t get clean from it. The memories flashed back, the feelings, the sensations.. and the anger built up.

The next day when I’d calmed down a bit, I called him. He hadn’t called me or contacted me that day, but I needed to make sure he knew what I was going through and that I couldn’t have him asking me for oral or expecting it the next time we got together. I had to stand up for me.

I told him what I’d been feeling. He said a brief sorry. I think it was genuine.. I’m sure he didn’t know what to say. But the call ended quickly, and he didn’t contact me again.. or ask how I was.. for days.

I became a complete basketcase. Clingy. Needy. Insecure. Crying at the drop of a hat. Angry for no reason. Moody like an 80’s Ally Sheedy… no… probably more akin to Lindsay Lohan (without the need of drugs and alcohol). And it wasn’t until I completely went psycho, that he finally called to check on me… and I cried like a baby the entire conversation.

So in light of these recent events.. I’ve added a new rule to my oral sex recovery plan.

You can’t ask me for a blow job. You can’t expect it. You get no say on if it happens at all.. well except for telling me no.. I’ll let you tell me no on that.

Jan 012011
 

I debated and stressed and freaked out about NYE on whether or not I should invite Ken to party with my friends and I.

We’re still really new.. essentially only been dating a week.. and it’s a little early to be introducing him around to my friends (for me, introducing men I’m dating to my friends is something done when things are serious or I’m testing them out for long-term viability). Not to mention the superstitions of NYE, and the symbolism of starting a new year out together.

For me, NYE is a pretty serious holiday. It’s also generally when shit hits the fan in my dating relationships. We’re both starting a new year and reflecting, and considering changes for the new year… which often includes.. “Am I happy with the person I’m dating?”

It doesn’t help any that NYE is notorious for everyone being drunk.

The combo of all the above is generally a lethal combination for a relationship that isn’t solid.

So I was freaking out that Ken wanted to spend NYE with me. I talked to a few friends who told me I was being insane and making more out of it than I should.

In hindsight, I should have told them to bugger off.. but I listened and calmed down. I invited Ken to join me with my friends for NYE.

On the plus side, he bought my drinks and for the most part was sweet to me.

Unfortunately he had his own agenda for the evening, and was not very happy that I didn’t want to play along. At one point I was so frustrated with the situation that I was nearly in tears.

Ken sober is a little odd, a little dorky, but fun and reasonable. Ken drunk is majorly nerdy-dorky, wants everyone to join him in what he finds fun and does not comprehend that someone else wouldn’t find it fun or enjoyable. He likes to spout trivial information.. which when he’s sober is generally of some kind of value to the conversation, when he’s drunk it’s often off-topic useless “OMFG shut up already” trivial info.

We had our first “tiff” or “fight” last night as well. He loves spouting off toasting/cheers from different countries. Or at least he claims these are the cheers of these cultures. He also gets upset when you don’t join him in doing whatever random cheer comes to his mind from whatever random country he chooses.

This is what we fought about. He wanted me to do some strange Spanish toast (he claims its what they do in Spain) that was intricate. Rather than showing me the toast, and then us doing it together.. He wanted me to repeat after him and follow his every move to do the toast with him.

“No no.. move your glass up.. come on.. do it with me. (Some spanish sounding word) No no.. follow me, now move your drink this way… Come on move it all the way over… You’re not even trying.. ”

At which point he acted like I was being the biggest party pooper on the face of the earth, and got mad at me for not  participating. I just hated feeling treated like a child and having to follow some insane cheer of a country that I do not live in and have absolutely no ties to at all… but mostly it was the being treated like a child.

I finally convinced him to must finish the cheer.. I was curious about what it was, and when done it seemed to be pretty close to the stations of the cross and at that realization I had little inclination to do the cheer without knowing exactly what those Spanish words meant.

So when he finished the cheer, I raised my glass to him and drank.

He got pissed.

“No you didn’t do the cheer, you can’t drink.” (And he was serious, and seriously upset.)

I swear if I have to do some kind of insane fucking cheer from some foreign country that I’m not even in, or celebrating, or attached to in some kind of fucking fashion.. just to drink my damn beer on NYE… Then I’m done. (At this point of the evening by the way, he was doing these random toasts with nearly every damn sip.)

I felt absolutely no need to apologize, and he wasn’t about to give up. So we reached an impasse, and I went moved a few feet away to sit down and cool off.

Some friends came to join me, and he took off.

I assumed he went for more drinks but I wasn’t sure, so I waited. Waited.

Waited. 5 minutes passed.

Waited. 10 minutes passed.

Waited.

So I texted him, “Are you still here?”

Waited.

I texted again, “I guess you left 🙁 ”  (I added the 🙁 even though I wasn’t really feeling it. I figured if me not joining cheers was a deal breaker, I would be fine finding someone else. I had a whole bar to shop from at that moment anyway.)

2 seconds later he shows up oblivious to my texts while holding a new beer for me, and two shots.

I was a little pissed about the shots. I had told him earlier that evening that I wasn’t planning on getting very drunk. I’d done that with him a couple weeks earlier and that was enough. He however insisted that it was NYE and I must drink.  So I  sipped some beer thinking that would be good enough.

No no.. he wanted to get plowed and thought I was a party pooper for not wanting to get plowed.

He insisted that I do the shots with him.

Fine.

I did the shots even though they about made me puke. Only that wasn’t the end of it, he bought more shots later.

If I wasn’t trying to be polite in front of my friends, I’d have told him exactly what fucking bus to get off of .. I was not in the mood to drink like that.. NYE or no NYE.. Plus I drove.. sure I could have gotten a free drunk-tow home, but since I didn’t want to drink.. it was just easier and more relaxing to just hangout and drive myself home later.

But polite me… I did those shots too.. and ordered a large glass of water. I essentially stopped drinking at that point.  He did not.. not that it mattered he was already hammered.

Then he wants to dance. Club dancing. Ken is not a great dancer, and normally you can just accept his dancing as fun exuberance. When he’s drunk though it looks more like drunken insanity.  I hate club dancing.  I can do it, and for a short time, I can do it very well. But do to an actual physical issue, if I club dance too much I’m in trouble the next couple days.

Ken refused to take no for an answer and looked at me like I was the biggest party pooper alive.

“I love to dance.”

“I know, I’m not stopping you. If you want to go dance, please feel free. But I don’t like club dancing.”

He acted like this was news to him. (It really shouldn’t be. Despite that we’ve always met at club-dancing events in the past, I’ve only danced 3-4 minutes of the 3-4 hours that I’ve attended those events. I’m notoriously the “table holder”)

“But I want to dance with you..” He whined.

At this point, he’s more annoying than anything else.. so to appease him I drag him out on the dance floor, and give the dance my all.

“See you can dance.. you dance well.”

(Yes I fucking know that.. that isn’t the point.. but he didn’t want to hear my point unless it was more dancing.)

After the song was over, I told him I was done dancing. He was upset. A half hour later he started whining about dancing again.. I again tried, but the song was some kind of weird techno that I have no idea how to dance to nor do I want to learn really.. so I told him we had to wait till the song changed.  It was like I’d given him a piece of candy and took it away before he could eat it.  We never danced again.

He missed the actual countdown because he was drunk, and was disappointed that others didn’t want to do a countdown an hour later.  Don & his girlfriend tried to humor him for which I was grateful.

My friends started texting me asking me who Ken was (they were embarrassed for me), and Don even asked if Ken was gay because he thought he was hitting on him.

I texted back, “He’s not gay. I’m kinda dating him. Not thinking after tonight that it’ll last long.”

“Hmmmm.. well he’s drunk, cut him some slack?”

“I’m trying. He’s lucky he’s good in bed.”

Finally I convince Ken its time to leave. Since I knew he’d gotten off work right before he showed up, and I’d not seen him order food at the bar, I figured I needed to get some food in him. So we headed to an all-night burger joint.

He ate. I ate. He seemed to get pissed that I didn’t eat my fries. It wasn’t that he bought them and they were going to waste.. it was that he ate his and I didn’t eat mine. As if I was starving myself or something, because he ate his fries and he couldn’t understand how I couldn’t have eaten more than I did.

I was confused. Seriously? I’m expected to clean my plate? I’m a FUCKING ADULT. if I don’t want to fucking eat my damn fucking fries, I’m not going to eat my damn fucking fries. (It also so happens that potato and me haven’t been very good friends lately so I was being cautious.)

Finally I manage to remind him that I ate earlier in the evening. I was eating some mini-burgers when he arrived, and that seemed to sooth him. Though now I am a little scared that he’s a chubby-chaser and may try to force feed me if I start to lose weight.

We get back in the car and I start driving to his place. He starts pointing out bars.

“Oh lets go there….” And yes, he meant right then. He obviously didn’t think he had enough to drink. Luckily it was after the bars had closed so we couldn’t go there even if he’d have been able to convince me.

Then we pass by a very nice wine bar that I actually do like. He insists that we must go there sometime.

“May I take you there sometime?” He pleads.

“Yes.”

“You promise? Promise me you’ll let me take you there. Promise.”

“I promise”

“Say it.”

“I promise I’ll let you take me there someday.”

“ok..good” He replies with a huge grin and bubbly attitude as if he was a 4 year old and I just told him Santa was coming again tomorrow.

I keep reminding myself that the sex is good, and hoping like hell that it’s worth it.

I figure the night can’t get a whole lot worse, so I might as well try to get sex out of the deal.

We get to his place. He always takes his dog out for a quick potty trip when we arrive, and initially earlier that evening, I’d planned on getting into a sexy satin & lace slip to treat him to.. and I figured what the hell.. I might as well continue.

So when he gets back from walking the dog, I’m standing there leaning against the bedroom doorway in a very revealing black satin and lace slip.

He loses all ability to speak. (MUAHAHAHAHHAHAHA)

He of course was too drunk to actually keep it up… but he more than made up for it in other ways. 🙂

And then this morning, we had the best sex that him and I have ever had.

It’s that morning sex that saves him every time, but I’m just not too sure that there’s more here than that.

Nov 162010
 

The other night I actually went out. Yes yes you can stop gasping in semi-faux shock now. Also, I’m starting to want to date again.  So yes that also means I’m feeling better.

Now back to the story!

After two days of ditching outings that I hadn’t really committed to, but planned to go to anyway, I really needed to get out of the house if only just to prove to myself that I could in fact get out of the house.

Plus it was an outing with Huew for the icing on the cake.

It ended up being the best night I’ve had in a long while and yet left me feeling very sad at the end. It is probably a good example of why I am still single.

The event was at a club that I really want to love as it’s based on a part of my cultural heritage that isn’t very well represented in Austin, but every time I’ve gone there its been either boring because no one is there or boring because you can’t move or talk to people because its too crowded. The layout leaves a lot to be desired.

The place was empty with the exception of our group. Huew greeted me as is his job as host, and we talked for a while. We talked with others, each other, and more to each other. We engaged in sexy banter.. which I clearly got the impression that I am not his type, and yet he swung it back to maybe I am.

Let me explain:
He saw this girl getting out of a booth not far away. She was dressed in a red/black bustier with itty bitty lace skirt and leggings. She was a larger woman with big breasts, so there was a whole ton of skin showing in the chest area. The bustier was also not well fitted for such a large bosom, and gave the impression that the boobs could roll out at any moment, but they did not.

He said, “Woah
I replied, “What’s wrong?
He did his best not to look back at her, but said, “That’s just too much”
I teased, “What you don’t like that?” (I knew full well what he was getting at, but I wanted him to say it.)
He said, “Not…*verbal fumbling*..
I again teased, “Oh sure, well.. I’ll just have to remember not to wear that when you’re around, its ok.
He smiled, “Well, at home you do right?
I laughed “Oh of course, all the time. But it’s be too much for you.
He tried to back track, “Well in public.. and well.. on.. ”
I shot him a quizzical look.
Maybe on someone smaller it’d be ok.
(Ah see there’s the gist of it.) I attempted to not look offended. The woman, other than nearly spilling out of her top, looked fan-freaking-tastic, and I admired her courage to wear it.
Uh huh… I’ll just remember not to wear such things when you’re around.” I threw in a smile and a slight wink for good humor.
well maybe for a costume party or something it’d be ok.. and of course at home

The conversation was interrupted at that point by drunk skinny chick which Huew informed me had barely had one cocktail. Which lead to Huew and I sharing drunk stories. Huew blacks out if drunk enough. I just often wish I would have; there are things I do drunk that I’d rather not remember I did.

The party then moves to another location suggested to us by the party girl. I really don’t like this girl. She’s nice. So I don’t really have any reason to dislike her personally, but she’s one of those girls that preys on men. She has to have a man. If she doesn’t bring one, she’ll find one there. She’ll get them all to buy her drinks, and do things for her. She never drives anywhere. A mutual friend of ours has told me that she’ll call everyone she knows and make up stories so she doesn’t have to drive. (I suppose in a way I’m probably jealous of her tenacity at selfishness.)

We get there, and we all place ourselves at a small table. We’d lost a few people in the transition, but there were a good seven or eight of us left. I sit down, and Huew sits next to me. We talk a bit and flirt. He complains because the band isn’t on yet, and that we’d arrived during a break. I told him that it was a good time to get to know everyone in the group. He saw my point, but replied.

But I already know you.
No you don’t.
Well, we’re friends on Facebook. So I know you.

I fake sighed and pretended to be offended that he thought getting to know me was boring. He tried to dig himself out of that hole. He of course was flailing and failing at that.

Well we can switch seats if you want, so you can get to know her” I offered as I pointed to the girl next to me.
He smiled, “No no, you’re ok where you are.
I looked at him feigning  frustration. “Ok, so really, you’re just not going to stop complaining until the band comes on?
He smiled and replied, “well yeah
I laughed. “Alright, then to even things out, I’m going to start complaining once the band comes on. You know, for balance.”
He laughed.

The band came on, and it wasn’t his kind of music. It was 40’s & 50’s R&B. Stuff I like. Well mostly stuff I like to sing to, but still stuff I like. So he still bitched, but I ignored his complaints and enticed him out on the dance floor.

It was then I got hit on. A nice bald man was dancing with one of the other girls from our group and she introduced us. He seemed all over me like I was the most beautiful women in the room. He then offered to buy us drinks. She ordered a vodka cranberry, and I wanted a vodka on the rocks. He then leaned in and asked what vodka I wanted. I nearly said “Any is fine” but thought better. My luck he’d bring me back some Absolut which I just cannot abide. So I said, “The well here isn’t bad, either that or Ketel One.” He told me that he wouldn’t subject me to well vodka but that he’d be back with Ketel One.

So I figured he really liked me, or he was crazy. A few minutes later after I thought he’d headed to the bar, he was again dancing with the other girl a few feet from me.

I thought, “Yeah, I’m betting he’s crazy”

I didn’t take long to ponder it, as they ran into me again, and he went off to get us drinks. As soon as he left, we were surrounded by two other men wanting to dance with us. They were hot, sexy, and educated. So, hot hot and hot. They were a ton of fun, then Baldy came back with our drinks. And yes, mine was filled with Ketel One.

As soon as Baldy returned though, he escorted the other girl to be alone dancing with him. My crazy alarm went off. I sidled up next to her and whispered for her to be careful with him, and then was spun away into a slow dance with Mr Hot Hot and Hot.  I haven’t slow danced in ages. It was a blast.

After the dance was over, I went to go check on Huew and the others since I’d not seen them in a while. (yeah probably why I’m single)  They’re in another part of the club that is playing rock tunes, and they decide it’s time to leave.

It’s about then that the “other girl” shows up. The one Baldy had swept away. She sees me and runs over.

OMG, you’ve got a sixth sense. He was fucking crazy. I left him to dance with someone else and he wigged out and tried to make me stay with him and started stalking me.” She went on telling me that she’d used Mr Hot Hot and Hot (and his friends) as cover/safety, until Baldy finally went away.

Seriously, any dude that insists on paying premium liquor prices when given the option for cheaper for a stranger that’s just friends with the girl he wants.. crazy assed bastard.

So we run back to the club we were at before. There’s a few more people there, but barely. We hit the dance floor, and I get hit on. (It’s like there’s a sign on my head, “Just back into dating” its possible it could be a “Needs to get laid” sign, but I don’t think I was giving that vibe no matter how true it is.)

His name is Brad, and my lack of interest made him disappear. *POOF* (again, probably why I’m single)

However, not long after that is when Louis showed up. He was cute. Mexican cute. He had that geeky aura, and honestly was right my type.

He was there with his best girlfriend. He explained that she’d just gotten through a bad breakup and he was trying to cheer her up.

Had she not been there, had he not made excuses for why he was with her, had Huew not been there, I’d have been all over Louis. (yes probably another reason I’m single)

Instead, I got into their business. He introduced me to Claudia (pronounced Cloud-ia), and I bent to whisper in her ear, “You know he’s into you right?

She replied back scoffing at the idea, “No, I’m pretty sure he’s into you.

You’re wrong. He really likes you. That’s why he’s here right now.

She didn’t believe me, and she asked him. His initial response was shock, back peddling, and then almost denial.

Oh don’t try to deny it. One or both of you has a thing for other. Ooo Or maybe.. have you two already dated once?

They both quickly said they hadn’t dated. He had met her while she was dating someone else.

Ok, well then.. sorry Louis to out you like this, but Claudia he likes you. I think you like him too. You’re going to have to deal with this sometime.

I go back to dancing. Louis goes back to hitting on me, and I give him just enough encouragement to keep him there.

Then Claudia whispers to me, “You know I think he really likes you.”

I stop dancing turn around, and whisper to her. “Girl, I’ve seen this before. I’ve been there done that from where I am and from where you are. If you like him, you need to take him now before someone like me snatches him up.

They disappeared shortly after that.

About a half hour later, our group decides to leave. Huew is hungry and we decide to go to this 24 hour diner that isn’t far away. That’s when the other guy backs out and says he’s just going home. The other girl left also decides to go home. Huew and I try to talk them into going.

They firmly decline and since they were parked near each other, they walked to their cars together.

Huew and I were parked near each other, and so we walked to our cars together as well.

As we’re walking, we talk about the night and how it went. It comes to the point where he wants to veer off course to his car.

Where are you parked?
Just over there..” I point.
Are you ok making it there by yourself?
Sure. You still wanting to get something to eat?” I say hopefully.
Naw, I’ll just grab some Jack in the Box or something.
Oh ok” I try to say as if it didn’t matter to me.

This is how I know we’re just friends. No guy who likes a girl would refuse to spend one on one time with her while it was still in the non-pressure non-date setting.

Guess I can hope that Louis and Claudia don’t work out, and he *poofs* into my path again.

Oct 042010
 

The other night I was out helping a friend celebrate their birthday. I’m using the term “friend” loosely as I am not that close with this girl, but she’s a great gal and a lot of fun and runs in some of the same circles as me… a circle that I’ve sorely neglected as of late (and by late, I mean I’ve not been out in that circle but maybe once in the last 6 months).  So I had some catching up to do.

Anyway… in the party of us was this guy.  I could tell he was friends with her and not really anyone else.. or else he was really damn shy. Later I realized the former was the truth, as well as the later.

He was roughly 6’2, larger built but not Dom DeLuise yet anyway. His face was attractive, but his hair was longer between chin and shoulder length.. not something I generally find attractive, but it didn’t look stupid on him so I could live with it. He gave off this aura of either being extremely geeky – like sexy geeky – or that he was a stupid pot-addled buffoon. Sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference with certain men.

Initially we weren’t in the position to talk to each other, trapped on opposites sides of a seated table, so I had to wait to find out if he was geeky or a buffoon. I spied on him at the short distance, watching his motions and gestures, and his seeming inability or maybe lack of desire to talk to anyone but the birthday girl.

Then we moved the party to a club. On the way there, I managed to find out that he was in fact just a friend of the birthday girl. A friend friend. They might have had some kind of history, but it was definitely historical, buried deep like an ancient tome if there had been something there at one time.

So I took that as a green light to safely flirt with him should the occasion arise. And it did.

Shortly after arriving at the new location, I found myself in a one on one conversation with him. It wasn’t a long conversation, but he was flirting (feeling me out) and I was doing the same. Somewhere about 3 minutes into the conversation, I got bored.. distracted actually by the birthday girl.. and the conversation ended.

I had gotten this “don’t date him” vibe from talking with him as well. I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I was still half-interested… And then…

Before I continue, let me just back up and tell you about our surroundings.

We’re at a club/bar. People are getting a little buzzed and starting to dance. Near to us there is a bachelorette party where a woman (clearly in her late 30’s) is wearing a hootchie-mama dress, and so drunk off her ass that she was doing less dancing and more of a rhythmic stumbling while playing grab-ass with anyone nearby. By anyone.. I do mean ANYONE. Guy, Girl, Trans, Gay, Straight… if it had a heartbeat, she was on it.

Just so you all know.. she was not the “bride” but just one of the girls in the party.

Anyway, I ended the conversation with the guy to go spend some time with my friend, and do some more catching up. It was her birthday after all.

Next thing I know, he has moved over closer to the drunk slut and starts to dance with her.

Dear Men.. if you are at all interested in a girl, and in front of her you run off to some drunken chick with the morals and self-restraint of pre-paid whore… I guarantee you that girl will not want to ride you ever. (if for no other reason, the diseases you might be carrying if you’re that “selective”)

Turns out the girl was married, and her friends were not letting her actually run off with a guy. I’m not sure which I felt more sorry for.. her, her friends, or her husband.  Hopefully she’s in one of those open relationships or that her husband actually gets off on hearing about her being slutty in public. I’m just going to pretend that it was all a performance to turn her husband on.

But, that wasn’t the end of it… Drunk Girl found her way over to me.

I am not.. and have never been.. a touchy feely girl-on-girl kinda girl. (Sorry guys) My physical interactions with girls is the same as most straight men’s interactions with other straight men. A hug with shoulders but nothing else touching is about as far as it goes.

So as she made her way in my direction, I tried to move out of her way. I didn’t want to have a scene. But she kept coming, and grabbed my hand trying to pull me out on the dance floor with her. I’d seen her dancing style with the other girls. It was full-body contact grinding, sex-with-clothes-on kinda dancing. I wasn’t about to join her on the dance floor, so I pulled my hand back.

She didn’t want to take “No” for an answer. She tried turning on the drunk charm. She was physically a hot woman, and she wasn’t holding back. The more she tried, the more I felt sick at the sight of her.  At one point, she attempted to caress my face with her hand, which I being sober and her being drunk, I managed to dodge quite effectively. She called me a prude, and I felt complimented. She didn’t come after me again.

However, at the end of the night.. Geek-Buffoon-Guy did attempt to get closer to me. Flirting. Attempting to charm me. But after seeing his attempts to get into the short shirt of Drunk Girl, all I could smell was “Eau De Desperation” on him.

I’d rather be celibate.

Sep 052010
 

So… I went out on this date last night. Well I think it was a date? A “meet & greet” so to speak. I probably should have canceled.. but I couldn’t in good conscience.

See.. we’d been trying to get together for a month now, and every time he’d ask me to join him somewhere.. I was busy. No no.. not dodging him busy, but actually had real plans already set up that I couldn’t get out of for one reason or another.

So when he asked me about this weekend and my schedule was completely empty for once, I told him he had first choice of when we’d meet. I planned on being there with bells on after the pain in the ass I’d been so far.

Then yesterday morning happened.

I woke feeling like crap. My stomach hurt like I’d eaten something rotten. I checked my calendar, and according to schedule, I wasn’t due for the monthly visit for a couple more days. Phew.

So I get up and run to the toilet thinking that I must just have gotten into something bad the night before and tried to jog my brain on what it might be.

No no.. no such luck. I’d started my monthly. Gotta love timing. Somebody somewhere really loves me.

The first day of my monthly .. at least 6 hours of it usually.. is spent in horrid pain. Normally I just cancel any plans I’ve made for that day which would require me to be happy, charming, and fun. Because:

A. I’m either going to still be in excruciating pain, and I’m not that great of an actress to be happy and charming while I feel like a gerbil is ripping up my insides.

B. I’m going to be unbelievably exhausted from the 6 hours of a gerbil ripping up my insides, and find it impossible to be charming while quelling the urge to curl up in the nearest chair and sleep.

So I really debated canceling my date. But since I’d been such a pain in the ass to make plans with in the first place, I couldn’t imagine him believing me that I needed to cancel without him taking it personally.

So I didn’t cancel.  My pain wore off about 2 hours before we were to meet, and I was exhausted. I was walking around my apartment trying to get ready with all the ability of a zombie. It took me 45 minutes to do my hair and makeup which normally takes me about 20 max. In my sleepy haze, I lost track of time and ended up being a good 15 minutes late.

I now have it on my “life rules” list that I will cancel any future dates that happen to land on the starting day of my monthly.

I arrive and it quickly becomes clear to me that I’ve got about 5 braincells still working, and that’s all I can muster. Just enough that I don’t sound like a complete moron and I’m not yawning, but not enough to truly be my normal entertaining self.

The first sign of this was my complete inability to read the wine menu, comprehend it, and place an order in a timely manner. My date was chatting with me and talking and asking questions, and honestly that was about the limit to my cognitive abilities to be able to listen to him and respond with semi-charming responses.

I swear it took me about a half hour to order a glass of wine.

The guy was great though. Charming. Fun. and not as bad on the eyes as I feared he might be… ok, he’s kinda cute.

At the end of the date, he mentioned that he was dead tired and needed to head home. I agreed and said I was dead tired as well.

He might have been making excuses to end the evening.. I didn’t really care at that point. Ok I did care a little, but I was dead, and welcomed the excuse to go home.

I barely made it driving the 15 minutes home without falling asleep. I got home, tore my clothes off, and fell into bed.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sep 032010
 

Today I was doing “cleaning” to prepare for company next week. I’m actually working on those New Years resolutions, as well as moving things around to make the apt as spacious as possible.

I’ve still got a crapload of boxes from the house. I counted the other day about 5 boxes, maybe more, of Christmas decorations. A few boxes that contain some old glassware I’m not ready to part with. A few boxes have some very nice vintage collectors dishes and serving bowls which I don’t have room in this apartment to display or use. There’s the “Tower” of old board games. The boxes of old writings, old yearbooks, old pictures.. a box of a variety of tablecloths (which I just managed to uncover and store them in a useful spot, finally). I’m not even going to go into the many many books I have, or the closets (yes plural) of clothes.

It’s too much stuff, and the more I go through it.. the more stuff I get rid of..

But also the more memories it jogs.

See.. Today while sorting through some junk, I found a folded up napkin which I almost just tossed in the trash until I thought..

“Wait! This is me that packed this box. I don’t just throw crap in my boxes. Why in the hell would have I kept a worn out napkin?”

So I unfolded the napkin. I probably haven’t unfolded that napkin in a good 10 years. I honestly had forgotten that it even existed.

On the inside of the napkin were some scribbles. Real handwriting. A boys name. His phone number. Some doodles. And his email address.

The memories of Rudy came back to me. I remembered how it felt when he gave me his contact information and how excited I was. He was finally interested. In me!

I remembered so vividly that feeling of joy, and the wonderful but brief times we’d spent together that I immediately looked him up on Facebook to see if he was there. He was, and his status was single.

I took it as a sign that fate was smiling on me, and I added him. The joy of the memories flooded through my mind as I waited to see if he’d accept the connection. Most of the memories were remembering the emotions of our previous connection, how well we’d gotten along..

Then he accepted the connection, and the fantasy of him suddenly became more real. The joyous memories suddenly leaked into the bad ones. The romanticized memories faded into more honest accounts of exactly how we were.. how I was back then..

I remembered what it was I liked about him. He was opinionated. Harsh, yet sweet. He had standards. Strict high standards. Aspects of personality that I rarely find attractive anymore, and aspects of personality that rarely change in a person.

Was this even going to have a hope of working?

Our History:

One of my first relationships in college was with this guy I’d met in a theatre production. He was geeky, smart, and suave. He knew all the right words, and myself being quite innocent didn’t help much. I thought he hung the moon, and ignored nearly everything else about him. He seemed to know much more than I did, so when he said something I believed him.

About a month into our relationship, he took me to his dorm. It was an all male dorm, and Rudy was his Resident Adviser, RA. He introduced me to Rudy, and for the first time since getting together I wanted to be single.. instantly.

Upon meeting me, Rudy gave me this look of pity and disgust and he tried to hide it, but it was obvious he was judging me solely by my taste in men. He did not like the guy I was seeing, and since I was with him, I was obviously dirt. He wouldn’t even speak to me. It shocked me out of my “love-blinders”.

The guy was seeing was bad news. Not obviously bad news at the start, but bi-polar with a pathological liar streak. It wasn’t until I met his friends, that I really understood just how much untruth he sold me. Needless untruth, simply to make himself look smarter or more interesting or just for shits and giggles. He’d even told his entire dorm quite a few untruths about me.. none of which were flattering.

Rudy doesn’t remember this btw.. not even years later when I did finally get his number.

I lost track of Rudy after that for a few years, until we both were working at Wal-Mart. He’d walk by my section and I’d flirt with him. Day after day I sought him out and we began to develop a friendship. I’d worked on charming him for months before he finally invited me to a small party at his place.

I can’t remember where in this story he wrote down his info on the napkin. I just remember it as a badge of success. A badge of approval. Of being worthy. It was a happiness built on hope, joy, and forgiveness.

The party was small. Just a few of his friends and I hanging out and chatting. It was a great night. I was the last to leave, and we had a short but amazing make-out session.

We saw each other a few more times before he left for a new school in Colorado, but nothing more than that ever happened.

We wrote (email) back and forth for months while he was away. He told me all about his school, work, and efforts. I told him all about mine. I waited for his emails like air. I wanted him. I worked on making myself into the girl he’d want.

I did that a lot back then. Making myself into playdough and shaping myself, my personality, my likes, my dislikes, whatever was needed to get someone to like me.

And Rudy … He never insisted that I change. He’d just walk if there was something that he didn’t like, and I didn’t have enough self-esteem or belief in my own attractiveness to just let him go.

Looking back, I never thought myself as I was.. was ever enough for anyone. (I know its sad.)

Rudy finally did return to town for Christmas. He made time to go out with me. I was so excited. I wanted to pick up where we’d left off. We didn’t have a whole lot of time as he had a bunch of friends to visit and family holidays. I ended up driving (I can’t remember why), as I dropped him off for his next obligation.. we sat in the car and talked for a little bit.. joking around, laughing.. and I leaned over to kiss him, and he stopped me.

“I’m seeing someone in Colorado. I’m sorry.”

You could have heard my heart hit the floor. Months of emails. Months of conversations, and not one mention of this girlfriend.

I was hurt, wounded, and furious.. just the combo needed for me to be a little detrimental to myself. I called up a “friend” for a bootycall. We’d never slept together before because he’d been married, but that was over.. and I figured this was as good of a time as any.

The next day I got a call from Rudy. Somehow he’d found out about my sex-excursion, and he knew full well that his rejection of me instigated it. He didn’t have any nice words to say to me. As it turned out, Rudy was friends with this guy’s ex-wife.. and they weren’t officially divorced yet. (Shocker that I got lied to) Rudy called me some not so nice names. He didn’t care about my side of the story, and said he couldn’t be friends with anyone who would think so little of themselves, and that he never wanted to speak to me again.. and he never did.

For some reason in the back of my head I wanted his forgiveness.. but as I look at things.. I’m not sure I’ve done anything for him to forgive.

If anything.. maybe I should be the one doing the forgiving… and maybe a little more leaving the past alone, and moving forward..

Aug 242010
 

As you all know, I go out networking. I go out networking OFTEN. So much so that most of my networking pals are quickly becoming good friends (whether they know.. er like it or not).

The funniest was the other night when I was accosted by one of my favorite married hot men friends. I had barely walked in before he’d pulled me aside and away from everyone.

“What was Jack doing with you the other night?”

Umm Mike and I are good friends… or so I think.. but we’re not THAT good of friends, and I had no idea why he thought I was with Jack. Or why he’d be so frantic about it. Jack barely knows who I am.

“Uh whaaaaaa?”

“Jack, you two were together the other night. He was bragging about it.”

Still completely clueless about what in the hell he was talking about..

“He was what? when? why? huh? I’m totally confused.”

“He told everyone he was with you at your place the other night. Everyone. Didn’t you know? What’s going on?”

I must have looked at him like he was completely off his rocker.

“Uh Jack wasn’t with me. Jack & I have talked like once..”

He interrupts. “No he’s telling everyone..”

I interrupt. “Wait.. wait.. what night was this?”

Turns out it was a huge misunderstanding and an extended joke from the group that Jack and I’d been talking in that last night I’d seen him.

Mike however interpreted the joke as Jack taking advantage of me or tarnishing my honor or my good name.

Once I put two and two together, I couldn’t stop laughing. I probably offended Mike by my incessant laughter, but it was just too funny.

After years of having everyone and their dog assume and accuse me of being some kind of whore, I find it hysterically funny that anyone would want to defend my honor. (Maybe thats just the bitter old woman in me?)

I was however extremely flattered that Mike felt inclined to check on me. He pretends to be a big ass, grumpy and antisocial, but he’s really just a huge sweetheart.  His wife is too, but don’t tell them I said that… I’d hate to ruin their reputation. 🙂

Later that night, I found myself trapped in conversation with a group of geek-boys. Hot young geek-boys. They said they were 23.. or around there. They were new to town and I’d briefly met them earlier in the week. Being the big mama-bear that I am, I felt all protective and wanted to introduce them to people.

I tried, but the more I tried the more they seemed to single me and Roma into conversation. I couldn’t tell if they were doing the divide and conquer… One of them taking me aside so another of them could talk one on one with Roma.. or if the guy talking to me really was that interested. It was hard to tell.

But they would not leave us alone or let the conversation fade. Which was fine with us for the most part as there wasn’t really much of anyone else to talk to, and they were fucking smart and hot. Well the one I was talking to was anyway. I’d end up getting distracted, introducing them to someone walking by, and suddenly he’d engage me in conversation again. I gave the boy plenty of outs to talk to anyone else, and yet he chose me. Roma was having the issue with one of the other boys.

As we walked back to the car, we started sharing notes.

“They really seemed intent on talking to us.”
“I know, it was kinda surreal.”
“Do you think they had any clue how old we are?” (Both of us are a good 14 yrs older than them)
“I don’t know. From the way they were talking to us, I’m pretty sure they thought we were much younger. Or they have that whole “The Graduate” thing going on.”

Roma laughed. We agreed that they had to have thought we were closer to their age. She herself forgets that I’m her age, and instead thinks I’m in my late 20’s.

Not that it matters much. The guy I was talking to was hot enough… dark hair, gorgeous.. looked a bit like the actor on Kyle XY.. which is enough for me.. I mean as long as I’ve ascertained that he’s legal.. and this guy is.

We’ll see if I run into him again.

Aug 222010
 

Fooled Again.

See, I should have seen this coming. Actually I did see this coming, I just ignored it.

I mean…

No man can possibly “Love” you and know for certain that he will want you “no matter what” from simply talking to you online.

Or at least no man in his right mind.

There were other signs. Like being so excited to meet me, planning romantic dates, and yet he wasn’t so into me that he ever felt the urge to read past posts on my blog.

Not to mention that he’s recently divorced and hadn’t had sex since his ex.

So… yeah.. I’m pretty damn stupid and I should have seen this coming.

Sadly, I’m not as pissed about feeling used for sex, as I am at myself for allowing myself to believe this guy genuinely liked me and wanted to be with me.

The signs were there. He wanted to be in love, and he was desperate for someone to love him back the same way he loved on them.

He’d worn me down to believing in us, but not enough to throw all caution to the wind and fall head over heels.

Back in the day, I used to fall in love easily. Infatuation mostly. I’d fall fast and hard and get massively hurt. I don’t fall that easy, or I try not to anymore.

But he’d worked on me. Weeks.. Months.. of constantly asking me how I was, talking, chatting, 6 hour phone calls. He was there. He’d claim he wanted what I wanted. It was suspicious, but he was persuasive.

By the time we’d finally met, I was convinced that he really did like me. I also knew that he secretly wanted a relationship, but would agree to whatever I would allow.

The chemistry was great… the sex itself was not. It was something to work on… but had the sex been great, I highly doubt I’d have been able to resist “His & Hers” towels.

We had a conversation style where honesty just happened. So at the end of the weekend, I told him that I wasn’t ready to be exclusive, but I still wanted to see him.  I could tell it wasn’t what he was hoping for, but that he still wanted to pursue us.

He seemed sold on me.. or so I thought..

Then silence. No messages. No phone calls. I’d gotten so used to him contacting me that I got worried. So I called him. He claimed to be busy.

The next day silence. He’s not contacting me. I wigg out. He finally tells me he met a girl online and has a date in two days. This is not unusual talk for us, as we’ve discussed his dates in the past. I expect to hear every detail as I did before.

Only he’s quiet. I wigg out. He calls to assure me that he’s there for me. And wasn’t this what I wanted? (dating other people yes.. being ignored and left out while you do it? No.)

48 hours after parting with me, he meets a girl online. 48 hours later he’s on a date with her. Then on his facebook he posts that “within 48 hours he’s gotten this job he wanted, and just met someone special.”

This job was something we’d both been waiting to hear if he’d gotten. He never contacted me to tell me the joyous news. He honestly hasn’t contacted me at all.

10 days ago, you couldn’t keep him from talking to me. Actually, 7 days ago, you couldn’t keep us apart.

Now he’s head over heels in love with someone else. His facebook is all about her, and posts from her… and he’s even friended her friends and hopes to meet them soon.

It’s no wonder women hate men, I’m already more bitter than I have been in … well probably a good decade.

And I hate myself for falling for him at all.. and I hate that I’m filled with anger.. and I hate him for breaking me down and giving me hope, and letting myself open up to the idea of a relationship.

I was perfectly happy with finding something casual.. and non-committal.. and now..

And now I want someone to hold me at night. I want to grow with someone, be with someone special.

And I especially hate him for that.