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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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When I was a little girl I loved John Cougar (Mellencamp). I still do in fact. Even when I was (my stylist loves this bit) GOTH (yes, you can stop laughing now), even then, I secretly rocked out to the simplicity of JCM’s world. If you liked someone, you just hung out at ice cream shops in the summer, it wasn’t so hard. But JCM’s world didn’t have lesbians that suddenly find themselves in love with the barnyard after swimming with the fishes for the majority of their adult romantic life. JCM’s world didn’t have complex behavioral disorders that resulted in emotional detachments. It had Jack and Diane, Link Pink Houses, and in his later years, it had him asking us to dance naked for him. None of these are so bad. I’d dance naked for Type Geek anytime. SIGH.

Apparently some people, other than Type Geek, wanted me to dance naked for them. The other night at work I was hit on by 2 people. Often I will get flirted with by one gentleman in an evening. Two is above normal though, especially considering that one was a woman. I must have sent out some sort of vibes, because that just doesn’t happen. I did tell both that I am seeing someone, which made the man respond that he was “fine with that”. French men, geez. I then said that I was in love with this other person and that I needed to decline his advances, which made him slip me $20. Huh, what? Apparently I do tricks for money, like give out numbers or get so impressed I will leave someone whom I am crazy about, for a French schoolteacher with piercings. Maybe I would have considered it once, before Type Geek, but not now. The girl? She was an adorable sweetheart, and IF not for TG, and had I still been interested in the ladies, if I could pull any interest together, I would have  jumped at a date with her.

So, I’m yearning for easy. For simple. A Saturday afternoon drive to a boardwalk, barefoot stroll through damp sand, with a cherry dipped vanilla soft serve in my hand. That isn’t what I am getting though. There is something I am not telling you all, that I may eventually, but that at this time, I believe needs to remain out of this blog. There is something I know now about Type Geek that keeps me here, keeps me trying, even on days most people would walk away. Trust then that while I may not completely know what I am doing, I am not completely walking blindly down a dangerous path.

With all of that said, I am on google+ and would like to invite you all to come say hello. You can find me by the name “Jane Michaels”, another pen name which I use. Hope to see you all on google+, and I hope that you are all enjoying your summers, replete with cherry dipped softserve.

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I’m taking this chance to sneak a few minutes to write as I watch the children of a dear friend who is stuck at the airport in Japan waiting for his rebooked flight to depart, while his wife is hospitalized with pneumonia. Slightly disruptive to my work schedule, some things needed rearranging, but worth it to help a friend. Besides, I love these kids and the sunshine in their backyard and the fact that their playground is on a beach. Warm temps, cool sand in the toes, and the laughter of children makes up for any hassle or disruption to my schedule. 

Now, on to the topic at hand, OkCupid and the ridiculousness of it all. I barely go on now, mostly to read the trends or see what the most recent insanity that was sent to my inbox says. Which brings me to this. Why does a published photographer/photojournalist who is a swiss trained chef and currently renovating a property in Istanbul feel compelled to OkCupid message me not once…but twice in one evening? He told me I was his far more attractive doppelgänger, that we would have an interesting time chatting and that, oh yes, he forgot to mention that he is an ordained zen buddhist monk. Really? At some point a woman must say WTF. If you are a reasonably attractive 52-year-old man who is financially well off enough to travel the world and take up residence in other countries while working on international photo exhibitions and accompanying books, as you renovate your Turkish apartment to Dwell worthy standards… I find it HIGHLY unlikely that you are perusing OkCupid and deciding to chat with a 36-year-old hot financial mess of a woman in New England. Surely you can find a firm bodied 26-year-old lady friend to lavish with your tales of travel while feeding her vapid dollar hungry eyes your homemade Turkish Delight. Part of me is just having a wee issue buying the authenticity of such a profile.

Meanwhile, I’m enjoying seeing Type Geek roughly once a week or so. Sometimes sex, sometimes just curling up and sleeping together. His scent and the warmth of his body next to me has always felt like home. Not the home of my childhood, but the home of my future.

Also, I have been hanging out a bit with one of you readers, and I adore her. She has quickly become one of my favorite people and I am so glad I chose to cross that line from reader/writer to friends. The irony though, and reason I am bringing it up is hat she is now dating Doggie Daddy. He was only mentioned once, and I never actually met him, we just spoke several times via text and OkCupid chat regarding possibly meeting. This was during the time Type Geek and I were not together and I was trying to get him back, but believing he wouldn’t budge. I was looking for distraction, not actual connection. I had two “dates” during that time and they were both awful. Weak men who showed all their cards early and confessed feeling of insecurity about their ability to date me. That I was out of their league somehow. I find that incredibly unattractive. I’m attractive and I have done interesting things and I have tried and will try again to do interesting things, but this just makes me different, not better. Just different.

Anyway, Doggie Daddy… so, this woman, who will be nicknamed Poppy because of her love of Orange and her personality which is as hugely vibrant as an orange poppy flower and just as intoxicating as the seeds they contain, is dating him. We gathered for coffee recently and she invited DD to join us there as he was in the area. Meanwhile, both Poppy and I KNOW of the connection, and have laughed heartily over it, but neither of us had confessed to DD that I am the same girl he was chatting with on OkCupid or that we know. Us gals knew he would figure it out once he met me in person and he did, but only said something after Poppy had shown our hand while I was away from the table. It’s quite amusing I think. Upon meeting him I knew what I had already known, he was not my type and it would not have lasted more than one drink. They are so perfectly matched and adorable together. My type is a Type apparently. I am not sure that I will ever truly know what or why or how. I’m just glad that this Type is here and not in Istanbul or Constantinople.

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It’s funny, meeting someone in person whom you have been virtual friends with for over a year. Nearly 13 months of sexual tension and in person, we are comfortable pals, yet beyond that, perhaps not much else. Internet Skype boy was having a weekend of bad reactions to some new migraine meds which ironically were causing low drive issues. The irony does not sneak past me here. I wanted a weekend of unbridled carefree fucking after 11 months of loving someone who had low sex drive issues and low interest issues. Nonetheless, we did have sex on Friday night, but the first time you fuck anyone is odd, grooves not found, rhythms not synced, and so I extended my trip one more night, to see whether things could line up more.

In between my first and last night… Parisian Macarons from BisousCiao. in flavors like Sour Cherry, Champagne Cocktails from Bubble Lounge and strolls through the Bowery. Apple Cider from The Union Square Greenmarket, naps on $7,000 couches at The Conran Shop, viewings of Time Bandits, and jokes about how I have lost my NYC street cred after ten years away.

So, how was the sex, second go around? It’s different. It’s not Type Geek. I was detached, yet forced to be present because of the sensation of fucking someone much larger than your previous partner. We fucked, it was fine. It was the punctuation, the ending to my one-sided relationship with a man I loved who couldn’t give anything except the occasional dinner, concert or overnight snuggle. Until there was sex with someone else, there was always just going to be Type Geek in my rearview mirror. After Skype boy and I fucked, after he washed up and went to bed, I laid there. The only night I was unable to relax and sleep. I missed Type Geek, even the small amount that I had him, the small amount that snuck through without him seeing it cozy up to me. I couldn’t help but wonder, has he thought of me at all since he saw me last. Did he ever miss me or was I unable to imprint myself even that much on him. I know it isn’t a reflection on me, it is merely a reflection on him and his bigger deeper issues, but nonetheless, I feel the loss and miss the him that I knew in those dark quiet hours between dusk and dawn.

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only the Jew was smart enough to see what was around him and duck, where as the Italian was too focused on himself to realize what hit him across the head.

This weekend could have been a wonderfully relaxing and tender weekend for two people who have had a challenging year, a way to unwind and reconnect. Instead, I’m heading down to NYC for two nights and two days of who knows what with Internet Skype guy. Sex could happen. Sex probably should happen, I deserve that from the universe. Actually, I deserve a full body massage and really good oral sex, then the best 8 hours of sleep ever. That is what I need.

Since my last post, Type Geek has come out with a new plan… utter disrespectful douche. If you insult her character she will no longer come… that is his theory. Although his other theory… if you ignore her, she will no longer cum, was pretty effective as well. I don’t want to get into what he said, but it sent me into such a fit of anger and how dare you’s that I almost walked the three miles to his house and slapped him across the face. In the end, he still wasn’t successful in making me hate him, just succesful in making me feel sorry for him. It’s quite sad at this point, his complete inability to connect to another human. I hope that someday he gets over what his ex did to him and feels more secure in who he is. For his own sake.

So, the chapter is ended. Is the book of Type Geek finished? Life is long, we shall never know. Perhaps I will reconnect in 20 years at an auction of mid century modern furniture… perhaps we are meant to be old together, but first, we need to grow old separately. Perhaps he just needs to grow first.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch… There is Bi-Coastal Foodie who is shuttling between Seattle and NYC, a foodie who actually admitted that he thinks I might be the better cook. (umm, of course) There was a photographer that lasted a few days, only to run at me wearing a giant red flag after I didn’t text him by a certain time about a potential cocktail. Key word…. potential, not, scheduled. Finally, there was a gentleman, Shellfish Guy who had hit on me months ago and I had told, that I wasn’t in the place because I was seeing someone else. He has continued to pursue me and I figure, hell, why not. So, that is where I am currently at.

This time around, how will I approach things differently? I’m not sure. This time it is a whole new game. I’m no longer wondering if it is possible for me to connect emotionally to a man, I obviously did. Now, maybe my lesson is that if you can’t be with the one you love, find another, then love the one you’re with. It might not be the same soul wrenching, powerful stuff that makes you JUST KNOW. But, maybe it can still be pretty good.

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My birthday is in a few days, and I am feeling far from celebratory. I felt like I was walking into 35 with much possibility, however, in the last 12 months I have lost 2 businesses, a condo, and a love that was unexpected. I’m walking into the new year in pain, with a visible limp. The weekend was supposed to be spent curled up, naked flesh against naked flesh, my nose in his neck, many hours of sleep,  many hours of making love, and the occasional moment of clothed dining. Instead, I have no plans.

The most solid option for doing something is a trip to NYC, which due to the marital and parental status of the majority of my NYC friends, means a stay with my Internet Skype artist guy. Now, don’t get me wrong, he has become a solid friend over the last year, we have surpassed our sex Skypes with conversation Skypes. He sent me a Valentine’s Day mix cd to help me get over my painful split and has offered more understanding than many of my other friends. So, what is the dilemma here? Sex. I’m still very much in love with Type Geek and Skype boy knows this. We spoke honestly about his expectations and assumptions and he said that he understands where I am.

So, where am I? Do I fuck him because Type Geek and I hadn’t had sex in so long and I do need to get laid? Who is that fair to? Is that what I really need, casual sex? Will that make me feel better?

Speaking of feeling better, I have a session with a new therapist next Monday. I’m looking forward to having someone I can vent to on a bi-weekly basis. Perhaps then, I will stop venting here.

I hope everyone out there is doing well. My thoughts are with you all.

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The year started off with blueberry dotted chipotle, cracked cayenne, and alderwood smoked sea salt chocolate cupcakes … frosted with nutella. Some Lambrusco I picked up from my new local wine shoppe, conveniently run by a woman whom I had hot sex with for 3 months back in my late 20’s. The southerner whose Baton Rouge oozed out during orgasm when she let out her Oh Gawd’s with a twang. Jesus, that women was hot, and she still is pretty good-looking, if I am to be honest. We hadn’t seen each other in 5 years, since running into each other one evening at a bar. She was surprised to see me, but pleasantly so, it appeared.

Originally I had hoped to spend New Year’s Eve in varying degrees of undress… and giddy drunkenness. Unfortunately, the universe decided that Type Geek needed yet another colossal crisis that needed solving and so he trekked through the woods and went ice climbing to a mountain peak, where he then proceeded to camp, alone, and find the answers for the questions he has been presented. I get it, they are big questions, life and death questions, with very real consequences. I am disappointed, that is natural, but I do get it.

The universe then decided to test my own resolve… by bringing an old flirtation back online… he is back in the states from Argentina, where he has been doing some graduate work. Drunk, he flirted incessantly, and sent me a photo I had sent him a year prior. He thanked me for being an exhibitionist and, in his sexually aroused state of drunkenness, was asking to come over, asking for more photos. He ” didn’t want to ruin my relationship” though, didn’t want to interfere. Didn’t he understand that he doesn’t really have that power? I declined, explaining that things have changed for me. I’m sexually exclusive with someone I love, sure he isn’t my boyfriend, but he is someone whom I care deeply for and wish to keep around for a pretty long time.

I’m beginning the year in love, in frustration, in less control than ever before. I have moved in with other people, and realized one roommate is passive aggressive and quite intolerable, the one who confessed his feelings for me regarding his favoritism on OK Cupid. I have found myself in a job that can sometimes border on unhealthy due to a member of the management team who relies on bullying, physical and emotional harassment and a tendency towards too many French 75’s while working. Then of course, there is the being in love, with someone who cares enough not to want me to go away, but is petrified of letting me in far enough that he could actually fall for me. Oh sigh.

All of this begs the question… in 365 days, where will we all be?

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