The weather was so great yesterday, a reprieve from the month of bone chilling temps. I awoke in the morning with multi-layered guilt. It was a guilt trifle, if you will. My pup has had cabin fever from a lack of canine fun and I had stood up the Turk numerous times, so I decided to combine the two and remove the guilt in one train ride. The pup and I met the Turk outside Starbucks and proceeded to walk and talk , get a tea, then walk and talk some more.We ended up back at his house eating some sautéed shrimp, drinking some wine and making out, with my having to lay down the law on 2nd base making out only. He was pouty about this but dealt with it.
He’s nice, young, eager, stable BUT…. there is always a but, isn’t there? I don’t feel it. My toes don’t get all curly when we kiss like they did with the Peruvian. I am also fairly confident in my belief that he is a bit of a player. That, in and of itself, is fine, however, don’t play me. If you want to have sex with me, DON’T feed me a line of bullshit to get me to go to bed with you. I will if I am interested and I won’t if I am not. While I am not easy, per se, I don’t play sexual games of cat and mouse if I want someone. The only time games are introduced is if they are naughty and sexy and mutually agreed upon. So, why do I think he is a player? Aside from the truth of the night we met and that we were both making out with numerous people, his words feel too rehearsed at times and he has condoms everywhere in his house. A ridiculous amount of them stashed everywhere. I lost one of my diamond earrings when we were making out and realized it a couple hours later when we had moved from the living room into the bedroom. He has condoms under his bed pillows, stuffed in the couch cushions and under the couch. At all times. Just in case. In case of WHAT? In case of the need to relocate your building?! He has enough condoms stashed to be a live action version of the film Up, if he were to inflate them all with helium. At least he is into safe sex, but oy vey!
I guess my general feeling of Meh in regards to the Turk also stems from many superficial things that I can’t seem to get past. He razors his head… like Yul Brynner. He shaves his back, sometimes (what about the rest of the time?) because he admits to being a “really hairy guy”. BUT, he doesn’t wax his one giant eyebrow. Really? Why not? Oh, and there is a weird thing he did when we were making out at his house. Not that WHAT he did was necessarily WEIRD,but that he chose to do it so soon and without testing the waters. He is a tit slapper. What in the fuck is with that?! Yeah, no, I don’t like that. That’s distracting and silly to me. Stop that.
So, I have a general degree of meh-ness when it comes to him. I’m not excited about him, at all and that seems unfair to him, however, I don’t think he necessarily cares HOW excited I am, as long as I am willing to make out with him. I am however finding myself excited when I think about the Musician,Writer,Assoc Prod guy. I need a new name for him, any suggestions? Even though our date had to be delayed on Friday, I find our gmail chats to be refreshing and something I look forward to. He has a sweetness about him that makes me smirk. A smirk is a very good thing.
All in all, a slow week. The foreigner friend of mine and I are headed out for cupcakes to soothe my menstrual craving, nomnomnom, and perhaps a hazelnut mocha as well.