Archive for September, 2010

I woke, unrested, to a cold drizzle. Within a few minutes of being awake it was obvious I would have a headache settling in. Not the way to start a week, surely it isn’t. Now, I am sitting here,naked and refusing to start my day. My legs ar stretched up on my filing cabinet, laptop on thighs, hair a mess. Days like today I miss working for myself. I would be back in bed at this moment, curled around my dog, happily snoozing. I do that at Type Geek’s house too. If there is no reason to crawl out of bed, barring the coffee that I can go fetch from the kitchen (but he usually does, so I can stay in bed) and bring back with me, then I stay, under the covers, curled into the recesses of his neck, or back or chest.

Autumn is here and I guess, with that, comes my desire to settle into the comfort of something. It was only after I recognized that no one I was meeting on the dating sites was ever going to be perfect, that I was free to truly see how awesome Type Geek is. I knew he was cool, intelligent, witty, stylish in a way that appeals to me, and attractive in a quirky sense. Once I stopped measuring him up to Cooper Fiennes and the other “what ifs” on the sites, and actually started to let him in, I realized that, while far from perfect, he is truly an incredible person. He’s got “stuff” and surprise, I have tons of “stuff” of my own, it is called life and the emotional flotsam and jetsam that occurs from living it. Yes, his life/work balance sucks, he compartmentalizes and my dog can’t come in his car, and without severe begging, isn’t exactly loved in his place at all due to the kitty resident and her fear. Not perfect, but, when we are together and I am leaning against him at a bar, cafe, nightclub, or restaurant, or when I am sitting next to, or across from him at his apartment, the dust settles for me. The chatter of life is quiet then. Then, in those moments, with him is the only place I want to be. Does he feel the same? Does it matter if his words and emotions completely mirror mine or at least just make sense for him and why he chooses to spend what little free time he has currently, with me? If he is present when he is with me, that is all I can ask at this moment. Until I ask for more.

Back to the idea of perfection not existing; when is the perfect time to have a “where is this going” talk? I know that there is no perfect time, but surely there are bad times. I’m rolling it all through my head. My relationships with women were easier. I just assumed that if we hit week two of dating, that we had become girlfriends. For most lesbian relationships, the coupling happens with lightning quick speed. With heterosexual males, how does one maneuver that? The middle of October is 6 months that I have been hanging out with Type Geek, if he were a lesbian, she would be probably living with me already. I much prefer the sense of autonomy here, but I miss the knowing where I stand. My ex met a new girl, after nearly a year of being in a disastrously abusive relationship with a woman whom she “loved”. Now, after the 2nd week with this new girl, she is in LOVE like never before. Sigh. When I met her, she was telling all her friends after our first date that I was the one. She falls in love too easily. It disrupts her life. When things go badly she is encompassed by grief, even if it only lasted 3 months. There must be a happy medium I suspect.

Now comes my question. Do I ask him about the “us” before the mini-break he invited me on last night? Do I have the chat there, on the beach, looking all beachy and hot? Do I wait til we get back and I have thrown him his surprise promotion congrats party with all his friends and he realizes, wow, she is THAT awesome? I feel like burying my head in the sand, but that wont solve my problem. Help. When have you all had the talk or have you even had to and suddenly it just was, or wasnt? Student Driver seeks driving lesson… please assist.

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Now, I am no Bridget Jones and I surely don’t believe that a mini break equates love, however, I do lean towards someone liking you a heck of a lot if they want to fly you out to spend the weekend with them somewhere on the other coast. Type Geek has a month of travel ahead of him. This week alone he will be in the midwest and the east coast for a meeting and a conference. Then, upon returning, he is, within days, flying out to the west coast for another business trip. We had chatted about my coming down for a quick 36 hour trip to the Philly trip, but then today he mentioned that, while Philly is good… how about 3 days in So Cal? Well, that would just be horrible, especially considering that my “nieces”  and some of my closest friends live there. I was hoping to connect with an old friend in Philly, but that is close enough that I can actually plan a trip coming up to do so, San Diego is a more difficult one to muster.

When I travel to San Diego, it is to visit them and I stay in the guest room/office and thusly, I integrate into the daily lives of my friends and the girls. While this is wonderful, occasionally it can be taxing. With no solo adult time, no access to a personal vehicle or public transportation, it makes taking alone time difficult. This trip, if Type Geek and I are able to coordinate the schedules, will be an entirely different way of experiencing San Diego. Staying in a hotel, sleeping in, no schedules, sex and sunshine and cocktails. Yes, I will see my friends. I am trying to plan a dinner at their place so that Type Geek can experience really good Bavarian food. However, as wonderful as it will be to see them and the girls, it will be so wonderful to go back to a hotel room and get naked and curl up in a nice hotel bed with a nice naked man, rather than a mattress on the floor of an office across the hall from the rooms of two wonderfully loud and occasionally temper tantrum throwing little girls.

What I wonder:
Will he love my “nieces” as much as I do?
Will my friends and he like each other? ( These people are more “family” to me than my blood relatives, so in effect, this is like meeting my family)
Will we want to kill each other after hour 30? (we spent 30 hours and 2 nights together at his place one weekend…but, this is a potential 60 hours)
How will this effect what we are?

and lastly…

What ARE we, that he is now inviting me to come visit him on business trips?

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It’s highly unlikely that he is ACTUALLY seeing other people. The man rarely has any time. UNLESS, all the times that he says he is at the office working, he isn’t. That could be possible. It could be. I don’t think he is a flat-out liar though.

Does he talk to people still online? Probably yes. Most definitely.

Is asking my friend who lives nearby to keep an eye out in the hood for Type Geek and if there are other women that seem chummy… healthy or right? Probably not. While it doesn’t reach crazy girl area, it’s a stretch that I realized isn’t what you want to start healthy relationships on. (Did I use the r word just then?)

Besides, IF there is another one, what can I do? My question still isn’t properly answered, because the proper communication hasn’t occurred to begin with. So, I told my friend, that I changed my mind. Momentary lapse of premenstrual insecurity I said. That I would, in fact, muster up the courage to ask the right questions of him, I said. Truth is, his answers might not be what I want to hear. They might be messy and ugly. But, we are 35, if I can’t grow enough balls to tell someone that I want to be more of an us, rather than a you and a me, I have no place in the adult dating world.

Of course, it’s easy to say. We had an amazing night together on Thursday. We checked out an awesome rock dance band, had a great dinner, some really great sex and some good morning smooches. No breakfast though, I opted to spend the time getting him off, rather than feeding him. Some mornings scream for a grab n go snack in order to properly usher in the new day.

Perhaps I could have brought up the topic of what I am feeling on Thursday, or Friday. Today even. Sigh. I’m nervous. There isn’t a time that feels like the “right” time. The perfect time. I don’t want to make him feel pressured, I don’t want to stress him out. I don’t want to hear the possible rejection. He turned out to be more awesome than I originally thought, than I originally planned.

Today, I found a card at Whole Foods that said, “Anyone can be cool, but awesome takes practice.” I instantly thought of him, now, as I am home, I decided to look up the quote. I nearly pissed myself as I saw that the quote comes from  a devotional for teens. Jesus Christ, no shit. The website says the following: “If there’s one thing cool teens need to make that next step to awesome, it’s definitely reading books about the Lord and then working on a 13 week Lord-loving program to help them deal with their inabilities to be totally awesome.”

I think I have a whole new appreciation for Type Geek’s awesome-ness now. Apparently due to his sheer level of awesome-ness, which due to the epic heights of its reach, in the mind of Lorraine Peterson, he must be a religious experience. The oral sex IS pretty great. Maybe a small cult following would be fine. It appears that his design expertise already has some cultish fans, perhaps I can arrange for special privileges at the cult’s ranch compound in the desert; to have the man behind the experience, all to myself, for some special one on one user experience tutorials.

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I met my ex-fiance 9 years ago at Canteen on Mercer Street and Prince Street in SoHo. I was meeting up with some old friends for brunch who had come to town for Gay Pride. With them was a firecracker of a red-head. Busty and sardonic, great musical taste, art film geek who I didn’t even consider because it was impossible. She was impossibly cooler than I. You see, back then, 9 years ago, I didn’t know that I was as awesome as I am. I didn’t feel beautiful or sexy. I felt awkward and unworthy of the attention of any beautiful woman. I hid behind the camera lens that I used to capture the things I thought were beautiful. Photography is a great escape from reality, a great distancer. I spent most of my life as a voyeur, watching others live and love. By the end of Pride, Godard Lover (she was obsessed with À bout de souffle) had taken down my email and asked if she could drive down in a few weeks in order to film some natural gas tanks in my neighborhood getting imploded. It was during that trip that she asked me out. It was also during that trip that I finally had sex with a woman. Prior to that, I dated them, kissed them, made out in the corners of gay bars with them, but I hadn’t actually made love to one. The girl that I had always thought would be THE ONE and that looking back I still believe SHOULD have been THE ONE, well, our lives could never intersect as perfectly as they should have. So, it took from my first love, my beautiful Candy Necklace Girl at 17, until years later, at 25, to finally have a woman make love to me. I was petrified. I thought I would be horrible. Perhaps I was quaint and the awkwardness was charming, I apparently earned at least a passing score, because Godard Lover and I would spend my remaining time in NYC swapping out travel weekends with one of us staying with the other nearly every weekend in one city or the other.

The video of the implosion is not the same video that she shot that day. I found this video on YouTube while looking for the Implode Brooklyn t-shirts some screen-printers had made. I had one which I bought off the street that day. Later that day, while wearing the shirt, I sat in a park not far from Rob Morrow of Northern Exposure as he enjoyed the sunshine with his baby as he read the paper on a bench. He had one of his legs crossed over, ankle to knee and I remember that he was wearing moccasins, but that one had fallen off, so he sat there, with one shoe on, reading the paper, and I remember thinking how much I loved NYC for that. For those moments of imperfection. I miss that about NYC.

great line: happiness isnt happiness without a violin playing goat

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It’s sinister really. The way that human emotions work. When I first met Type Geek, I was less than blown away. He seemed interesting though, and I assumed it would blossom into a friendship, rather than a romance. Jump forward 5 months, almost to the day, and I had a little realization. Perhaps love ISN’T that big feeling of eating too much wasabi at once. Perhaps that rush, the endorphins, the passionate sex in rental cars or curled up on bookstore floors waxing on about metaphysical mumbo jumbo while petting each other, those aren’t love or even falling in love. Those are merely garnish for the meal of life… some curly parsley or a drizzle of a well crafted gastrique. Those garnishes are flat and without merit however if they don’t embrace a meal that has merit. I want meals I eat to unfold in my mouth in waves of discovery. The fat, the salt, the acid, the spice all marrying together and delighting me. SO what if it looks good on paper, if it doesn’t elevate my taste buds, it doesn’t matter how it is presented. Sometimes the presentation is so simple, that you have few, if any expectations, or the ones you have, aren’t that high.

Type Geek is that meal that I can’t seem to grow tired of. Each taste I have had, has unfurled a new mysterious flavor. I savor each one, roll it around in my mouth and try to understand it, name it. Sometimes I can’t. Sometimes, I can match it. Mostly though, it has been the experience, until lately. The sex has become something I haven’t quite experienced before. I feel safe when I am with him, an experience that hasn’t occured for me before. In the past I have always been the one “in charge” or “in control”. Last week I finally let Type Geek into my head and what is stressing me out, two bottles of wine, tears, great sex and it all came out. The family drama, the financial drama, the life drama. I hadn’t been that vulnerable with anyone in years, if ever, but it felt safe sitting across from him. It felt right. The only thing I didn’t share in my conversation with him is my grey cloud of confusion over “us” and how I am having minor internal freak outs. I am acting like a girl in my head.

I’m jealous. I’m slightly insecure about where I stand with him. I keep saying I don’t want a relationship. Maybe I am lying. Not only to myself, but to all of you, and to him. Maybe in realizing that love is finding someone whom when you are with them, it is the only place you want to be, you realize that being “ready” for a relationship is nonsense. You don’t choose timing, you don’t choose who.

Why is this all sinister? As I alluded to earlier? A sinister type of joke which the universe loves to play on us emotional humans, give us insight as it takes something away. Type Geek and I haven’t spoken in 4 days. I stopped texting because I was busy, but also, I wanted him to put in a bit of effort, to show appreciation for the awesomeness that is I. He hasn’t touched base though. This morning I decided the game was silly, so I texted hello and, a little while later, I left him a voicemail in a super happy tone regarding the Depeche Mode obsession I was on this morning and how, omg, I saw a woman on the train yesterday wearing a 1980’s style denim jacket with a gigantic Megadeth iron-on across the back, and how it made me giggle audibly. I went for breezy, for no big deal, for hey, what up with your bad self. Only, I haven’t heard anything back from him. I think I am getting dumped via silence. The old, “Ignore it and it shall go away”, move. Sigh.

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There is this great website called Overheard Everywhere , which has some of the most brilliant overheard comments of all time posted by the individuals whose ears were lucky enough to be close at the time. This is one of my favorites,  “Hipster girl: He eats pork, but he won’t eat pussy. He’s a really bad Jew.” If I had overheard that, I would have spit out whatever beverage or food I was consuming at that moment in an abrupt burst of hysterical laughter. We all know my love of the Jew. The Jewish cock is a thing of wonder and beauty. Although, I must say, a lot can be said about an uncut cock as well. Before I met Type Geek, I had zero experience with an uncut penis. I hadn’t ever seen one in person, only photos. My limited experience with cock from my teens and early twenties presented the average “normal” penis to me, nothing exciting. Certainly no Jews and no uncut boys.

Regardless of all of that, I do have one issue with the comment. How can you NOT eat pussy if you fuck it? Really?! For some of us ladies, that is the ONLY way we really get off. That is one issue with lesbians that never occurred. Lesbians love to eat pussy. I think there is an unwritten law in the Society of Lesbians book of by-laws that states, “she who eat not of pussy, not get own pussy eaten in return.”  Alright, maybe it was Confucius or Buddha. Maybe it was just the first lesbian I met at 17 who wanted to fuck me so badly, she checked out the Lesbian Joy of Sex from her college library and offered to lend it to me. She was stocky, with a mohawk, furry legs, ripped fishnets and combat boots AND a die-hard anti-male feminist. Now, I know that NOT all feminists are anti-male. SHE just happened to be. She was also a writer, a bad one, and wrote scathing tales of those that crossed her path. She never changed their names because, as she said, “no names have been changed, because no one is innocent.” Needless to say, she was intense in all the WRONG ways and no, I never had sex with her. There is probably a story out there somewhere about it.


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It’s a cold night and I have just put my Type Geek texting to rest. Not ready to face the mounds of laundry that are resting on my bed in need of folding, hanging and otherwise putting away, I opted for a cup of Vosges La Parisienne Hot Chocolate with some vanilla bean and a dash of cayenne. Drinking it in my favorite mug, I couldn’t help but wish I was curled up on his couch watching Mad Men with him. Unfortunately, that isn’t happening. Unfortunately, I am sitting in a half renovated messy condo located in a stalled neighborhood of tacos, tacos, two Italian joints, and more tacos. Oh, and a pupuseria. It is for the best that I am not there this evening. I have too many commitments on Monday and must be out of my place by 9:45, at the latest. This all will be easier, when I am closer. At least, the travel back and forth will be easier, the logistics of seeing him, that is. Do I think our situation will be easier, aww, hells no. Can I hope, perhaps. I am realistic though. I think he has some trust issues, some attachment issues. His ex cheated on him multiple times. Not once, not twice, hell, maybe more than three. I know that from what he said, it was just completely out of hand. I can relate to wanting him more available when he is in work mode and feeling pushed aside and compartmentalized, but that doesn’t mean, now that I decided to stop seeing other people and be exclusive, yet still casual, that I would go have a grudge fuck. It wouldn’t make me feel better and ultimately it wouldn’t get me out of my compartment and closer to him. It isn’t always about me, or her or even him. Sometimes it is a symptom of the OCD and he is powerless to it, sometimes it truly just is an unavoidable work load that MUST be dealt with, however, sometimes it is my internalizing and resulting unexpected geyser of insecurity or his inability to see the entire picture after tunnelling on work and so, subsequently, he does things out of such rigid self focus, that I get lost, I am invisible. Are all of these things that can be dealt with? Yeah, sure.  2011 is creeping up fast. Less than 4 months. In roughly 13 weeks, this blog will have its year anniversary. I’m not sure what the story is yet. I have been battling back and forth a manuscript for the novel and I’m unsure, of so many things.

What is the story to you, the readers? Why do you read me, post after post? What do you want to know? What do you wish you knew more about? What is this journey to you?

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