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Archive for August, 2011

Okay, I went out with this guy on Friday night. We shared the same musical tastes and had some commonality with other interests. He was tall, handsome, metro.. what wasn’t to like?

The first thing he did, when I arrived at the café, was offer me 5 different types of candy. Candy?! Maybe some people would consider that endearing, but it turned me off. I don’t want to date teenagers, at 36, I want to date men. So, beyond the candy, what I found out next was that he was a workaholic for the wrong reasons, money and status. He mentioned twice that his jeans cost over $500. Let’s call him $500 Jean Guy.  At 32, he had two divorces behind him, one wedding that cost him $80,000, which he felt relevant to tell me. The other, the most recent, resulted in his 4-year-old daughter and a contemptuous relationship with her mother, a woman, whom he informed me, before our first cocktail, within 20 minutes of meeting, that she was bipolar and abusive and that she is costing him enough money to afford her nice tropical vacations. All this before a cocktail!

Shortly after that admission we wandered out of the for some drinks and oysters. I needed a cocktail the way this was headed. We finally made out way into a little place in Harvard Square, and given a corner booth, he proceeded to sit a little too closely, keep offering me candy, telling me to look at him and slurping his oysters with sound effects. Eww. I like oysters, love them in fact, but you are supposed to let them slide down, not slurp slurp suck. Eww, as I write this I suddenly imagine that he probably has sound gross effects during oral sex. Eww.

We finished up at that restaurant and I found myself unnerved and in need of another cocktail to deal with him, so we wander to my local go to and sit at the bar. My date saving waitress comes by and helps distract several times. The bartender offers great drinks, and a shot. The $500 Jean Guy? Well, he starts sniffing me, telling me that I smell sweet, like candy, and then asks me if I think he smells nice. I never ask a date this, I just assume I do. If they don’t like my parfum, they won’t go out with me again. I give big eyes to my waitress friend, who “happens to need to talk to the bartender” and $500 Jean Guy then proceeds to tell her how nice I smell, and how I smell like candy. Suddenly a co-worker of mine appears after spotting me from across the bar and he tells her too… how I smell like candy, as he starts to eat from his bag of candy he bought earlier this evening.

He walks with me for a bit until our paths, luckily, part, and then proceeds to text me and let me know that when I am over my ex and ready for something less than casual, that I can call him. He also informs me that I should have kissed him. No, no, really. Ok, umm, he was weird. Creepy weird. Something also reminded me of Brooklyn , maybe it was a similar body build, facial thing, propensity to just stare at me weirdly. When I met Brooklyn, I thought it was flattering, in retrospect, once I really got to know Brooklyn, from beginning to end, his intensity towards me was just uncomfortable and weird.  How many times did I just say weird? I can’t help it because weird, creepy, and unnerving are the only words that match.

So, what does any frustrated girl do after such a date? She walks past the 24 hour grocery store and buys two different types of ice cream, because she can’t decide, cheesecake bites, raisin toast, yogurt raisins and cereal. I rarely buy any of those items. My heart wanted sugar and carbs to usher in the Hurricane that was coming.

So, I spent Saturday in torrential rain pours, feet soaked, dog soaked, body swollen from carb overload and heart heavy from missing TypeGeek. I had texted him throughout the day to remind him of things to do, just in case, like garage his car, secure any plants in pots outside, watch for odd behavior from his cat, etc. At one point, after he mentioned that he was at a party, I mentioned that I was drinking cab and eating pâté, and potentially by the 3rd glass, I would probably be thinking inappropriately naughty things about him.

He responded with a … “pâté, ewww, gross”.

I made fun of him, told him he was 4 and mentioned that I find it funny how he can eat the muscles but not the organs. He came back with a ,”still gross”.

To which I playfully remarked… ” lucky for you , I never had an issue putting organs in my mouth “.

Silence for a bit, and then “yeah, that’s very nice”.

“I would take TypeGeek over Country Pork any day”, I retorted.

“I’d take a blowjob any day over pâté” TypeGeek said

and so… I responded that ” all you ever need to do is ask”

With that comment said, I went silent for the rest of the evening. We then texted a bit on Sunday as he sneered at the lack of impact the storm had on his neighborhood, while I tried to get the 8 feet of fence that fell in my yard to stand back up and told him to shut it. Then for about 5 minutes on Monday. It’s no mystery or great secret that I want Type Geek and I don’t want to walk away. It’s also no great secret that he doesn’t really want me to go away, or he would not engage in conversations with me about oral sex. I want him back in my bed by his birthday. Sigh.

Meanwhile, I conversed with a couple of men on OkCupid, I didn’t sit and dwell and mope. I also touched base with my friend on Google+ who is going through a divorce after far too many years, and my old Kiwi friend who needs girl advice because he has met someone who sends him ass over tea kettle. It’s been a full week. I’m looking forward to a Thursday Night free without any dates or plans. I think I need a little time with just my dog, my bed and a book. Hope you all made it through the storm safely. Speak to you soon!

 

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So, I know that I have talked to people on OkCupid when I wasn’t planning on meeting them, because I wasn’t ready to actually break up with Type Geek. Since he took the ax to our most current try, I have actively been making dates. With that said, if you, as a man or woman, ask someone to set aside one of their only evenings that they have free, nearly a week in advance, and you continue to chat them up leading up to the date, do NOT then cancel 7 hours before the date because in the last 24 hours you decided to start exclusively dating someone else. Either a) fulfill the dating commitment and make the choice after the date, or b) as soon as you realize that you REALLY like this other person, not 7 hours prior to a date with another, after you have already gone through the motions with the other person and discussed dating exclusively. If you think it’s going to go that way, don’t make the person you set a date with act as a place holder, just in case. Respect their time. You break dates because you break a bone, you have an emergency come up, work throws something at you last minute, etc. You do not set dates as place holders and break them with under 24 hours notice when you know someone put aside plans with others to make time for you.

Perhaps I should institute a reservation holding policy like restaurants. A credit card goes on file and you get charged if you cancel in under 24 hours or don’t show. Grrr.

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I have two first dates this week, on my only nights off. I don’t really know much about either, perhaps that is what I have resorted to now. I know that I found them “interesting” enough to contact them, but it’s a mental block I can’t get past. I’m not retaining details about them. My heart doesn’t want to.

Last week, I went on one first date. This gentleman, the Legal Design Guy, doesn’t know my ex like I thought he might (thankfully), he was getting into the music school as Type Geek was leaving. Also, it turns out he knows a circle of people who I know, which also don’t know Type Geek, so that explains it. So, we had oysters, we had drinks, we had pâté and confit and more drinks. Conversation was fine, but it felt more friend than anything. There is something slightly smarmy that I can’t get past, that I don’t find sexy. I can’t pin point it exactly, but it’s there.

Remember my Jewish Sex God from the very beginning? The one who ushered me into the folds? Well, we were having a conversation the other night, our friendship never really being the same since my trip to visit him that weekend. In the course of the dialogue he mentions that we had no sexual connection and proceeded to tell me why. Now, it’s fine that he didn’t feel a connection to me, but it isn’t fine that he decided to tell me that my being nervous at the reality of having sex with a well endowed man after 12 years of non penetrative lesbian sex translated into being a horrible lay who he felt ashamed to touch. WHAT? Yeah, so, he said that I was largely unresponsive, behaving as a victim of sexual abuse does, because I didn’t make much noise, because I didn’t show him how much I was enjoying sex with him. That I was too inside myself and didn’t give much to my partner, that he felt awful continuing to touch me because he felt that I must have been abused because I seemed to be in another place. Ok, once again, WHAT? Again, 12 years…non penetrative lesbian… flies to Seattle to have weekend sex romp with well endowed male friend… maybe, just MAYBE, I was nervous and shy and insecure about the entire thing?! What a dick, and I am NOT talking about his dick. I felt shitty afterwards, so I ended up emailing Type Geek for his take on my sexual style and he confirmed that Seattle is a DICK, and that I should NEVER give another thought to it, because I was obviously nervous and that he had zero concerns with my style. Thank you Type Geek. Grrr, Seattle. Seattle had no idea why I was angry, which at first I wasn’t. After I thought about it though, that is when I started to get angry, and offended.

So, yeah, Type Geek, we have texted. I apologized to him for not being able to pretend I don’t care and just cut ties. I’m not done with him. I can’t shake that a huge part of me believes that our story hasn’t ended yet. It’s just not our time. But, I want it to be. I know I can’t rush it, but I want to. I want the life with him that I know we can have, but he doesn’t have enough balls yet to have faith, to let go, to grasp something unknown, rather than his own fear. He needs time, he needs some self work, and I just need to live my life, which includes dating other people, while he does his work. Someday I will try again.

If you all think I am foolish, honestly, fuck you. I’m not on this journey for any of you, for how you would do it. It isn’t a choose your own adventure, and you don’t have the right to be angry at the roads I choose to take, because they are different from the paths and methods you would. This is MY story, and when I am laying in my final hours, I owe explanations to only my heart and the hearts of those I have chosen to embrace into my own.  I thank you all for reading, for getting involved and attached and relating, but in the end, this story is uniquely my own and I have no regrets about how I am living it and loving through it, even if that means I am just filling the spaces between Type Geek. Even if that means I am frustrating the hell out of my readers.

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Texting the man or woman you love, whom you just ended things with, whom you are not speaking with, because you find yourself sitting on the edge of your bed before work, tears streaming over how much you miss the sound of their voice, the joke in their speech, the beauty of their face… well, maybe it isn’t a good idea. When you think that you won’t hear back, because you both know it isn’t a good idea, only they do text you, 7 hours later, telling you that they are hiking the mountains in Maine, and they thank you for texting, for inquiring as to how they are. Then you have small talk, for half an hour via text. Only, the small talk is pointless. The texting is pointless. The break up was senseless, and the only resolution that would make sense, is the only possible one that won’t happen. So, the texting ends for the night, only you don’t say goodnight like you used to. It just stops. Interrupted it feels, cut short… like your relationship.

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Several times today I have found myself not breathing, I stop and must consciously inhale deeply, but it feels more like gasping, than participating with my body.

For whatever reason, today is hard. I texted him, I couldn’t help it. I just said that I missed him and that I hope he’s well. I do miss him. He didn’t respond. He won’t. I don’t want him to anyway. His twitter says that he is off hiking in Maine.

I don’t feel empty, or heart broken. I feel enraged at the senselessness. I feel enraged that a boy can be so emotionally left behind that one day he becomes  a man that can’t love himself and subsequently can’t allow anyone else to love him.  His feeling that his only solution is to be alone is what causes me sadness. I love him, I want him to feel the pride in himself that I feel when I look at him, or think of him, or hold him.

Why the breathing issues today, I am not sure. How that correlates, I’m not sure. I’m just having a hard time today wrapping my head around never touching him again. Never holding him. Today is a hard day.

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I ran into a friend today, one I had a brief crush on a couple of years back and whom I thank the universe for not ever allowing us to hook up because I would have KILLED him. He was headed out for his 4th date with this 30-year-old woman whom he said needed to spice it up a bit. She was too sane, too calm. He likes crazy 25 year olds because they are unpredictable, but he complains because they don’t want a relationship. Hmm. Ok, he complains he can’t find someone our age who is wacky and fun, that as women age we become lame. Umm, I am NOT lame, but this is NOT about me. So, he yammers on a bit and then says that he has 15 minutes to get to his date, on bike, and he is in Somerville, in Davis Square, needing to get down Mass Ave to Newbury Street in Back Bay, which is a good 15 or 20 BY CAR. Hmm. He plans to BIKE in 84 degree weather, across town, so quickly that he will be gross and sweaty, and meet this girl for a date in which he wants her to step it up?! Maybe if he wasn’t wearing a Toucan Sam shirt, covered in sweat on a DATE. If he can’t take her seriously enough to arrive at a date dressed nicely and showered, why should she step it up for him?

Seriously though, I looked around the bar I work at and tonight I noticed so many men wearing man-dles (man sandles, flip flops, etc), sneakers, white tube socks, free promotional schwag t-shirts, and being generally unkempt. These men took 5 minutes to get ready for their date, and that including getting their keys and grabbing the ever wishful condom. Meanwhile, their lady friends showered, shaved, touched up their nails, put on make up, primped the hair, brushed their teeth, and spritzed a little parfum on the way out the door.

MEN… here is a HINT. If you want a woman to fuck you, you have to give us reason to. Clean it up. If you can’t show a little style a few hours every week, for us, why should we wear non cotton underwear, invest in Brazilians, shave the legs, and put on sexy heels for you? If your date showed up in baggy jeans, with unshaven legs, a promo alcohol t-shirt, dirty sneakers, unbrushed hair, no make up, and smelling like she just biked 10 miles in 10 minutes, would you want to fuck her?

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