Posts Tagged ‘celibacy’

Apparently, when I am nervous, my lower lip and chin quiver slightly. This is what Type Geek told me during our almost break up. I later texted my hot ex girl friend, the screenwriter, and asked her and she confirmed. How have I not known this for 35 years? Type Geek told me not to join the CIA, I responded that it’s lucky for me than that I am into cooking instead of espionage.

So, yes, I did say almost break up. He’s been driving me nuts. NUTS. The comments, the card, the accolades I recently bestowed upon him had gone un discussed and avoided and I just couldn’t handle it anymore. So, I forced a meeting with the need to pick up my video camera that had been living at his place. My friend needed it desperately for something, or that was how the story went. I started the frustration via text Saturday morning. By Saturday afternoon, we were essentially over. He just couldn’t offer anything and didn’t want to be responsable for hurting me. Therefore, any compromise was futile. I cried a lot. I drank a few overly sweet martini like cocktails and had wasabi rushes with my Foreigner. I’ve known him over a year now, odd. Odd also that he sent me on this crazy trip. I digress.

Type Geek and I agreed to meet at 3:30. I got there at 3:35. He was late and I sat my ass on the stoop freezing in the mid thirties weather. I harumphed and texted my friends, cursing that he couldn’t be there on time! He arrived 15 minutes late. I was awkward but cordial. Cold but tried to not act too chilly. I didn’t know what I was walking into. We sat at the dining table and made chit-chat for about 15 or 20 minutes before we both ceased to talk. I looked away, at the floor, my boots, the edge of the table, but not at him. I then said, “hmm, awkward silence there.” He responded that there wasn’t an awkward silence, to which I said that there was, on my end. That there is so much in the ether that needs to be discussed, so much that I don’t understand, pages we have skipped past and not addressed, until now, when it has become awkward because we are in two places and we need to bridge them or walk away, because the distance between is too stark, too cavernous and far too frightening to traverse. He asked what I wanted to say, I said that I felt I have said too much lately but that he has said so little. So he agreed to start. Super uber lenghty hmmm pause later, I asked if he needed a prompt. He said that would be helpful, as he didn’t know where to start.

I told him that yes, I am in love with him and yes, in an ideal scenario (i.e. one in which it is what he wants) I would love to be his girlfriend, BUT that my wants and my needs are different. My needs are to know three things. He nodded for me to go on.

  1. Do you want to continue to see me?
  • Response: Yes, of course.

      2.   Are you sleeping with anyone else?

  • Response: No, not since our first date, no one but you.

       3.  Can you agree to commit to a minimum of 2 actual scheduled dates a month, that you don’t cancel and that to others, you will say NO, if you are not sure or feel flakey about ability to commit to something, rather than saying yes and then disappointing me later.

  • Response: Yes, this is doable.

Then I had to argue for a half hour over whether he has the power card, which he doesn’t want. I say he doesn’t and that I am in control of whether he breaks my heart or not. I said, you may hurt my feelings, however, only I allow the decision to suffer to that degree. I am a big girl and I can handle being in love with someone who isn’t in love with me in return. Do you care about me, enjoy my company, and want to spend your spare time with me? Are you sexually attracted to me and not interested in anyone else or interested in pursuing anyone else? Ok. His argument is that every action he takes affects me. I responded that whether it is a sunny day or cloudy day affects me. Whether the train is late or on time. Whether a stranger says hello or curses at me for accidentally bumping into them. The world IS cause and effect. However HE does not hold as much power as he would like to think. He is only a man and I have the power to walk away if it isn’t working for me anymore. When it isn’t working for me anymore, I will use my power to leave. So, we agreed to disagree on this point. He thinks he has power. i say he doesn’t have the power he thinks he has.

So, what is his damage? Well, the same damage we all have. A relationship with a woman who strung him up for years, who is still meandering about and pestering him (not for any romantic reasons, just to be pestery), a new job and new role at new job that is super demanding and stressful, a family life in crazy overdrive for the last 6 months, and the regular fears of jumping into a new relationship and what that may mean. I get it. I know where he is. I was there for 4 years. Well, I was in a similar place. I didn’t date for 4 years. I had no sex drive. I proclaimed myself celibate, asexual even. I started a business and bought a condo, I lived like a hermit and shriveled up, hid away until I watched a lot of my friends give up reaching out. I wasn’t going to be ready to open the door to possibilities again, until I was ready. I didn’t know how it happened. I don’t remember the exact moment. I just realized one day that I saw the sun and I was, metaphorically speaking ( since I did go outside everyday ), standing outside with an open door behind me. It happened at its own pace.  

Now, where does this leave us? This leaves us with him kissing me as I stood against the dining table. With him agreeing that booty calls are acceptable ( I complained that , sometimes, I just want to get laid and go home because I have things to do, just like he does. So, I don’t always need to sleep over afterwards. I can go home after a date and sex. That way, we can wake up at our respective homes and start our days without the trappings of two people bumping into each other at 8 am). With us being us, but better, because we are now on the same page. I fessed up about THIS and the novel. No, he doesn’t have the url, he has not read it. I fessed up about the Cooper Fienes and how I was fucking both of them at first and how I kept him at arm’s length because I was seeing the other guy. Type Geek commented that perhaps that was best, until I said that no, I was bored then. I found him to be less than interesting and I wasn’t thrilled to hang out with him, until I stopped seeing Cooper Fienes and decided to give Type Geek a fair chance, to get to know him. Things weren’t best because I didn’t really like him then. Now, however, because I care about him and know him and his neurosis, I am not bored, I am engaged and enthralled and I adore him, which makes it worthwhile for me. He would not have lasted in my life behaving as he has, if I wasn’t in love with him and willing to sort out what the hell his brain has going on. So, to me, I feel like we are a couple, without the couple. We are sexually exclusive. We like each other, albeit I am in love with him and he finds me worthy and adorable and super cute, but isn’t ready for love. We enjoy spending time together and have tons of things in common. Do I need the title? No. Do I need to meet the family? No. I understand why he can’t include me in that equation now. I get it. Does spending the holidays alone SUCK? Yup. In the grand scheme of things though, I would rather have this with someone I adore with all my heart, than have the “traditional” all the trimmings relationship that lacks the one core ingredient… Type Geek.  What we ARE is more important than what we NAME it.

 After I got home I sat and thought over the crazy year and decided to blasted my Jewish Sex God a note commemorating our anniversary of last year’s rendezvous and thanking him for being that fine ambassador to all men everywhere. Then I sat down to write this post as I baked spicy stuff shells and drank Tempranillo.

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This isn’t as insidious as it sounds. We are NOT talking Wakamezake, Yeastiality, Nyotaimori, Sitophila or even basic fruit or vegetable fetishism here. I use the title as a way to explain how one looks at food when on a liquid dietary cleanse. Food itself becomes an untouchable tease. I found myself looking at cookbooks and the “kitchn”, a sub blog of  http://www.apartmenttherapy.com . I found my flirtations with the men I was meeting online to be food focused. We talked food into each other’s virtual ears like some people talk dirty as foreplay. The things we would do with respective organs and orifices was replaced with what spices belonged in a Moroccan quinoa salad or the perfect lamb preparation. Whispers of dessert were almost too much for us to handle, so we hinted at dried fruits, rice puddings, carrot cakes with cream cheese frostings and the perfect apple pies. It was good to eat again. Like cumming off my 4 year celibacy, feeling the texture, smelling the aromas and tasting the fruit, the buttered toast, the flaky oven roasted cod, as they came across each taste bud. Mmmm, the Master Cleanse allows you to reestablish your relationship with food in a way that is more respectful and mindful. Food is sensual. Food should be sensual. Not fast, tasteless, and cheap, like a bad date with a low rent prostitute. Sigh. It’s nice to eat again.

So, I have a date with Type Geek this week, Frenchie has officially finished his paper and we should be rescheduling our rain check for an upcoming day, and a new couple of contacts are on the horizon as well… Political Satirist guy and Art Gallerist guy. The fascinating this is ALL of these men are foodies. While Brooklyn loves my food, he isn’t at all a foodie. In fact, he does admit an occasional fast food indulgence, but usually he has the typical suburban family meal. While, two of the four other men are also divorced dads, they have had a more diverse relationship with food over their lifetimes. It will be interesting to get into these other men’s ahem…. kitchens and see what they can do. I like to see how a man handles his culinary tools.

Tuesday posts are web-syndicated by http://www.thenewgay.net

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So far, of these men I have met on-line, none have been able to take control of the physical situation and make me semi swoony, except for Gavin Depp. His name today however, may be changing to Hottie McDouche. As I mentioned previously, I did a hot beverage drop off and then proceeded to make out with him on his big comfy bed for a couple of hours. There are so many pleasant things I can say about this man and none of them end with me going back to celibacy, believe me. We will get back to this in a moment.

Part of the reason I pulled out the slap down Thursday was because I am casually seeing too many people to feel comfortable bedding down one. The other reason, and probably the most convincing argument, was that I am in between waxes. Yeah, yeah, shave you say. Do you know what happens to a brazilian wax when you shave?! You screw it up and make yourself all itchy and stubbly and ugh! GROSS. I don’t want 5 o’clock shadow on my business. So, I was waxed the day before my trip to The Almighty Jewish Cock and now I am playing the waiting game. It’s a week shy of being long enough to get waxed. Now, that’s actually convenient because on top of both of those reasons…. I started my damn period today. Mother Nature is a big old bitch.

Oh, and why is GD suddenly tip toeing into the Kanye West League of Douchiness? Well, he’s become suddenly quite silent since my saying, hmm, I can’t be THAT girl and be dating several people and sleeping with any of them. I did say how much he turns me on though and that I am really into making out with him…often. Sigh, we shall see.

Tonight I have date two with an ivy league academic turned urban farmer with a love for low-fi indie rock. Let’s see how that goes.

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It’s a curious thing, all of this. For 12 years (that’s a long time for those of you unable to quantify exactly how long 12 years is) I have only dated women. I did this not in response to any trauma inflicted upon me by men, in fact I have always thought men were awesome. I did this solely because I had not been attracted to a man in over 12 years. Ugh, that sounds so dismal. It really wasn’t as boring as that. Women turned me on in a way no man ever had. The first time I had a significant make out session with a girl, you know, clearing some bases and all… angels sang and seas parted and I know I at least stepped in water that night (it was raining), even if I didn’t walk on it.

I hung out with a few more boys while I was making my self discovery and then one day I just ceased hanging out with them. There wasn’t any one particular thing that happened. Merely, it was what wasn’t happening.  My toes didn’t curl and butterflies never fluttered. I did fall in love with one boy once but it was the type of love that you get from whiskey, woody allen films and Shane Macgowan songs. That story is for another time.

For the next decade I dated some women. Some were amazing, some less so. I asked one to marry me shortly after 9/11 and lost her, 2 years later,  to a midget with an eating disorder, manic phobias and a substance problem.  While that was a tad bit demoralizing, cause yes, I am hot, I pulled myself back up and went out there again. Some casual fun, like the southern basketball fanatic who, when she came, would scream “oh gawd” in her bayou drawl… and then roll over and turn on ESPN after sex, or the former spoken word poet and sex education teacher turned high femme drag performer. The ivy league half-marathoner with ugly toes and a privileged ivy league background including republican politico parents. The struggling screenwriter whose youthful fun and frisky tone shifted upon living with me. We spent hours upon hours fighting, until eventually, we had hit levels of unhealthy that I hadn’t ever thought I would encounter in my own relationships. A lesson in expectations, I guess. No one is above being at the bottom.

Then my dog got sick and she died. A month later, I was moving out of that apartment and ending my relationship with the writer. I woke up one day, feeling completely numb and realized I just couldn’t do it any longer. I needed a break because I was completely devoid of any sense of well being. I then made, what seemed crazy to many around me, an active rational decision to be celibate and single so I could refocus on myself. For 4 years I did things for myself without consulting, compromising, or considering another individual and it was F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S !!! I learned to drive ( before you think oddly, it is NOT uncommon for people in NYC to not drive. We have the best subway system in the world, so, why drive?!!!), I bought a condo, started two businesses, and rescued an emaciated dog from the back of a pick up truck. I was busy. BUT, I had also become a recluse. I had built walls up and become increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of letting anyone in. Yes, at times I was lonely, BUT, I had control over my existence. I needed that control. It became more important than the companionship. I had the dog and she had me and it was us against the world, only we stayed inside and weren’t really in battle against any great force. We mainly snuggled and watched A LOT of netflix and ate kettle korn or roasted broccoli. (Yes, both of us ate the kettle korn AND the broccoli. She is a funny dog.)

So how did I get from kettle korn to boy hickies? Let’s just condense it by saying that I opened myself up to trying something different because, what I was doing, was really NOT working. Einstein was the one that said,” Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, yet expecting a different result.”  Now, apparently the universe likes to be a mischievous little bitch, because verbalizing my willingness to explore what she wanted to give me, opened up a whole universe wide can of worms.See, that’s how the universe rolls. Suddenly, I was trying to get a foreigner to make out with me, even JUST once, using multiple tried and true female methods, but to no avail (I did mention that I am, in fact, really attractive, right?! So, WTF?!). This all led to some off-color sexually frustrated venting to a casual long distance friend who, at the end of one conversation, impudently remarked that I would always be welcome to share photos with him, as many and as often as I wished. I was feeling extra flirty that day so I did and then I did again until I suddenly found myself involved in some rather thrilling multimedia internet naughtiness. There were then packages, pictures, phone calls and suddenly a plane ticket and a promise to be present, be open, be in the moment, but mostly to be honest to the process of being accepting of whatever may come.

Now, just as a sidenote… they never tell you this. It’s like a secret club, with a secret handshake and apparently a secret language…. yiddish. Jewish men are well endowed. I’m not saying that they are necessarily the size of a small baby BUT holy girth on that thing!  I did a survey, of all my Jewish friends, and I looked it up on-line, and I saw a box of magnums in my friend’s drawer. Now, her husband is a 5’7″ Jewish man…I’m just saying. BUT, you can make whatever connection you want, I’m just saying that Jewish penis is something of a religious experience.

So, now I am back in my condo, with the dog, and I don’t want the same method of life I had been living. Did the religious cock send me on a quest for the holy grail? Perhaps. The details of that trip? That is purely mine and his. All I know is this, life is far too short to confine yourself to a definition. When did I stop living because my defined “way” of life wouldn’t allow it? Now I get so many questions. Some people need me to redefine as straight or bi or explain myself and why I feel justified in calling myself a lesbian in the tagline of this blog. I have spent 12 years heavily defined. I do not know what the future holds. I can only be here at this moment and be true to this journey, this exploration. If it makes you uncomfortable that my sexuality and use of sex does not fit comfortably into a tidy box, for this I can not apologize. Life is grey, relationships of all sorts are grey, sex and sexuality are grey. Don’t expect it to be tidy and black and white, for all of you will be shocked and disappointed each time it surprises you.

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