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Archive for the ‘Beginnings’ Category

I woke today with the giggles of two young girls crawling into my bed. 3 and 7, my “nieces” are the most incredible children I have known. It was 70 degrees at 9 am when they slowly opened the door and ran under the covers. My best friends were asleep and it was sweet perfection for the half hour  that the girls and I laid in bed chatting. While my friends snuck in an extra couple of hours of sleep, taking advantage of my presence keeping the kids at a slightly quieter tone than normal, I made a traditional Southern New Year’s Day brunch complete with braised ham hocks, Hoppin’ John, collards, pan roasted potatoes, and poached eggs. Once they awoke, we sat together outside, the sun on our faces, and ate too much and laughed just enough. I miss them terribly and wish my reality was a bit closer to theirs, rather than on the other coast. Perhaps that is a change I need to consider.

This year begins a lot differently than last. Last year I was in love with a complicated man, still technically owned my home, still technically owned a small business, although both were in the end process of being given back and dismantled, respectively. I had the very best dog, who was also one of my most dearest friends. Just when I thought my own personal identity couldn’t be anymore shook up, it was. Tested is barely scratching the surface with regards to how I felt many times over. Tortured is definitely how I felt most often.

I don’t believe in Resolutions. I don’t think I did anything necessarily wrong or bad to encourage the harsh events that had unfolded around me in 2011. Will I love less? No. Will I love differently? Quite probably. Each time we love someone, a new person or a past person, the love is a little bit different. It’s nearly impossible to ever love quite the same as you have previously. So, what will the year bring. I have hopes for it. I have wishes and dreams and preferences, but none of these things I can predict as the truth. I have come to learn, through my many painful experiences, that I have far less control over the outcome of things that I once believed.

 

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I’ve been writing this blog for almost 2 years. It started as a funny commentary on the ridiculousness of dating, with a side story being that I was a long term lesbian who woke up one day liking cock, and having no interest in women any longer. So, the serious would sometimes wiggle its way into the snark, into the one liners, and bring a bit of reality into the escapism that my site was for many people. Only, eventually I fell in love. That was unexpected.

The timing, the individual, the situation, my falling in love was fraught with everything messy and complicated. It was all innately human and filled with roadblocks, human drama, insecurity, egos, errors in judgement, scars, death, sex and tears. In the middle of summer we ended it. But I still talked to him. I still told him I loved him, because I did and because we didn’t stop dating because he didn’t care, but because he’s too afraid that he’ll destroy someone if they get to close. Shatter their illusion of him with the reality. Only thing is, I know the reality, and even with the nasty ugly details, he is still the most beautiful man I know. He is still my choice. So, I stand tall and still and I don’t falter, I don’t run.

Two nights ago, nearly two months since we “stopped dating”, we found ourselves in each others arms again. The drink, that becomes two, that becomes dinner and two more drinks, that becomes two hours of intense conversation at his kitchen table and then, becomes us wrapped around each other in his bed. I’m okay with that. I’m okay with him being terrified. I’m at peace with him and his fear.

In six weeks, roughly, a new chapter begins in all of this. In this story of my crazy casual dating with many turned love affair with one, an emotionally fragile man whom I nicknamed Type Geek. Recently, he was offered a HUGE promotion, in the Bay Area. He is taking it, as he should. He told me Wednesday night. He might never get a chance like this again. I never questioned whether he should, but I admitted that I feared he would evaporate, as if he never existed. An irrational fear, I know. He exists here, he will continue to exist. Will I? I haven’t let him let me go yet, have I? I can be creative. He may date others when he moves, but he won’t find  me and what I offer in any of them, and I won’t let him forget that I am here, in Boston.

Boston. So, what is my long term goal here? I’m going to continue to love him and tell him that and send him love notes in the mail, meanwhile, I am going to save every dollar, work insane schedules, pick up freelance jobs if possible, and I am going to network, on the hope that he will let me come to him in Spring. Why spring? It is after his office is set up, after he is a bit more settled, after I show that I don’t forget about him, just because he is thousands of miles away. It’s long enough for him to miss me. To remember me. To want me.

Sure, there is a HUGE what if here, what if he doesn’t? He’s the pessimist here, I am not. I am the oddly optimistic one who believes that love isn’t a film with Meg Ryan, that there is a bit of Fellini and Woody Allen in there. A little heavy metal, a little Miles Davis and maybe even a little Electric Six. I’m not a typical romantic. I am a realist, but in this unclear situation, I choose the brighter future. I choose the future that has he and I, in our 80’s, drinking rum drinks and laughing about “kids these days” while I still admire his perfect little tush, still bite-able after 40 years.

Because the purpose of this blog isn’t to document my daily quest to save for a move out west, I’m going to change direction a bit. I’ll show up in it here and there, but I will be moving into a wider area of focus from now on. This will, in theory, bring back some levity and hilarity. I’m open to topics, things to explore, reviews on products, etc. However, the day to day drear needs to be swept out to sea if I am keeping my eye on the bridge, so to speak and while occasional updates into Type Geek are fine and good, this was never a blog about one man.

Meanwhile, for almost two years, I have kept this blog from being monetized, cause I hate ad heavy sites. They no longer smell genuine, you never know what is done for ad sense dollars and what is done for the reader. The time has come though, with my future looking pricey, that I try to find some funding for this site. Because of this, and my quest, I have created a “chipin” that everyone can donate to. A dollar, ten dollars, heck..more (please), will all help. These dollars will go directly into a separate wish/travel fund for San Fransisco. Spread the word on the chipin and the blog. Thank you for reading all this time.

 

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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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