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Posts Tagged ‘divorce’

Cooper Fiennes got a visit from his wife on Sunday. I mentioned this, right? That he is technically married? She left him for a myriad of her own reasons, mostly it seems, she just wasn’t in love with him the way he loved her. It wasn’t his decision and he misses her madly. We talked about his love for her one night while we were taking a break during sex. We both believe in the hearts ability to expand so that it loves multiple people over a lifetime. That love doesn’t cease to exist for someone merely because the relationship is now over, or the status is complicated. We believe that the more one loves, the more capable or love one is.

I don’t expect to hear from him for a few days. I believe he needs some time to mourn. She is moving to NYC, a dual citizen, she has that freedom. Her trip to see him on Sunday was one to discuss logistics such as the sale of the car, the financials, the signing of the divorce papers once one or both travel back to Barcelona. Their physical location makes the divorce harder because it needs to be filed in Spain. Each day he goes without the split being finalized, is a day he is unable to fully move on.

I made myself available in anyway that could be helpful. I told him that if he needed a friend later in the day, a lover, or just a silent fuck, let me know.  He texted me in the early evening letting me know that he had opted to play soccer for 3 hours in the heat after she left, that he was emotionally spent and exhausted and just without words, but that he would resurface soon. I’m not concerned. Our situation is one without the emotional complications of a traditional relationship. We merely are, what we are. Until that is an issue or complication, we are happily floating in our little sexually charged private world, away from the trappings of what if’s and if only’s.

I have been meeting a lot of divorcee’s this last 6 months. Are there more people getting divorced or is it just that I have hit the age group where people who married young are suddenly running for cover? Had I married my ex fiance, we would be divorced by now. She was a train wreck. thank god for small miracles.

This week’s web-syndicated post is running a day late due to technical issues with our syndicater www.thenewgay.net . They are back up and running smoothly now, so check them out for more great queer coverage!

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The last few days have been rather interesting. If you have been reading chronologically, you already know that I finally got laid. Well, Mr. Bratty McLawyer is worse than any goddamn lesbian I ever dated. We had sex Wednesday night, Thursday I had errands and at one point he texted me and asked what I was doing, I explained that I was at a specialty grocery store. Now, just because this store is in his neighborhood, does NOT mean he should come and surprise me. Maybe he was so enamored by our mutual lack of orgasms that he needed to see me again, less than 12 hours from when he dropped me off at my home. So, he surprised me by turning a corner and appearing. Cute-ish, I guess. Now, the next day, I spent several hours consoling my ex girlfriend who is in an AWFUL relationship. After such an exhausting conversation with her there was a great need for a relaxing bath and the huge macaroon I had bought the night before. Stripped down, I stepped in. Within 45 seconds of settling into the tub and shoving a huge piece of the macaroon into my mouth, a text message came through.  Bratty McL was checking in, wondering what I was doing. Just stepped into a nice relaxing hot bath I replied. What are YOU doing, I asked back. His response aggravated the living hell out of me. “About to join you in the bath” he replied. Umm, wtf? Huh? THEN my buzzer rang. Are you fucking kidding me? Who comes over without an invitation?! I ended up getting out of the tub, dressing, and walking over to a local bar for a cocktail. Now, aside from the fact that he showed up uninvited, and pulled me from a relaxing soak, when the bill came, he had me chip in for my one cocktail.  Hmm, you think you might be able to buy me an $8 cocktail when you inconvenience me? Maybe? Grrr. Finally I get to go home…alone. Hours late, and not in the mood, he shows up on-line and starts instant messaging me. I had considered going out to a huge arts event that night, but after feeling run down and bombarded by other peoples psychic drama, the idea of a large group of strangers was less than appealing. I was bored though, so I strolled the online sites and found a deadly handsome man, who had just relocated from Barcelona, to chat with. He looked like a cross between Bradley Cooper and Ralph Fiennes and was utterly charming. As Mr. Cooper Fiennes and I were discussing meeting up the following day, I was trying to end my chat with Bratty McLawyer. I told him I was going to bed, he then asked to call me, so that he could say hear me say goodnight. Ugh, GAG. I told him that my phone was charging in the other room and that I was unable to call him at the moment, so a virtual goodnight would have to do. I could hear his whining tone in the way he typed his disappointed, “fine, okay, goodnight then.”  He is needy AND annoying. The self-righteous and condescending attitude hasn’t disappeared. After knowing that I love trip hop AND that I have numerous friends who are DJ’s, he suggested that surely I don’t really like DJ’s, since I appreciate serious musicians like Pat Methany? I must be joking.  Ok, now you must go away. Really?! So, electronic music ISN’T music now?! Really? Goodnight Bratty.

The next day I had an appointment across the river. I texted Cooper Fiennes to let him know that I would be out of my meeting by 2:30, if he was interested in grabbing a coffee then. The weather was amazing and the idea of great conversation on a patio with an attractive man was splendid. We met outside Starbucks. First impression in person… even sexier than he looks on-line. He is working in medicine, plays music, has great taste in music, including electronic acts, is stunning…with the type of bone structure that takes your breath away. So HOT. Always a pleasant surprise when the date is hotter than their pictures, especially when their pics are already pretty goddamn good! We walked around, laughed, talked music, talked business…both his and mine, talked art and his soon to be ex-wife. Amicable split, still good friends. Is he looking for love? Not particularly. He is in town for a residency fellowship and, in 6 months, he may move back to Spain. Hot summer fling with a sexy guy from Barcelona until then? Why the hell not?! We spent 4 hours together and I suddenly realized it was 6 pm. I was supposed to be back in the same neighborhood at 8 for my drinks and movie with Type Geek. I had to get home, wax, walk and feed the dog, change and get back to the same place I was at that very moment…in 2 hours. I bid adieu to Cooper Fiennes and hustled home.

I realized upon arriving home that not only did I NOT have enough time to wax, but that even if I did… my skin wouldn’t be relaxed anytime that evening. So, my “Just in case we end up making out hot and heavy” wax turned into a bathtub soak and …shudder…. shave. EEEK. I made it out the door and back to meet Type Geek around 8:15. Not too bad! Now, Type Geek has been rather shy with me. Interested, I have presumed, but shy. Not very physically aggressive. Granted, I haven’t been fully falling at his feet, but I have been leaving him openings. On our last date, I finally kissed him. I then told him that he didn’t need to wait for me to kiss him next time. He promised he wouldn’t. So, I was curious what would happen this evening.

He popped the wine and began making some snacks for us. We sat and chatted at the kitchen table, drinking wine, listening to music, occasionally googling something that came up in conversation…but never discussing the movie. I touched his arm or back or chest or head…several times, no moves. Sigh. Ok. FINE. Hours ticked by. We scrolled his iTunes library and laughed at some of the old school tunes he had, like stuff from Anthrax, whom I loved as a teenager. I’m standing 5 inches away from him. Is he just interested in me as a friend? If so, that’s fine… but what is going on here? At 1:5o am, roughly 5.5 hours since he picked me up at the train, I consider that all hope is lost. I resign myself to this. We joke about his unmanly amounts of shoes and he tells me of a pair that are so ghastly, his friends ridiculed him the only 2 times he wore them, so now, they live in the closet. I asked to see them and he retreated to the bedroom closet to find them. A minute goes by and I followed after. I climbed onto the bed and started petting his cat while he dug out the shoes. When they appeared, I agreed with the response of his friends. Just then, his cat runs off. I stay sprawled out on the bed. I am tired and the bed is really cozy… there is not incentive to leave. We keep chatting and then he begins picking cat hair off my shirt. In my mind I think, yeah, friends. He is picking cat hair off my shirt…not kissing me and here I am laying on his bed. 5 minutes of cat hair picking and he finally decides to kiss me. Bravo Type Geek!

He doesn’t stop at kissing me though… and I decide to go with it. He’s a really nice guy and a great kisser so I decide to ignore the physical road blocks I do have and just enjoy whatever is going to happen. Is he shooting for 2nd or 3rd base tonight? Within a half hour, I am mostly nude. Within an hour, I am singing the praises of all the great things he can do with his mouth and within an hour and a half… I am having sex again. Whoa. nothing for 6 months and then….2 men in 4 days?! EEEK! Ok, feeling a LITTLE trashy, but I will get over it. Especially since McBratty Lawyer is NOT getting anymore sex from me. The sun is coming up when we finish and we sleep for a few hours. His cat wakes me up by burrowing into the back of my thighs and overheating me from the sheer amount of warmth coming off its furry little body. Half awake but sleepy, I shuffle away from the cat and cozied into Type Geek’s chest, absent-mindedly petting his bare skin with my free hand as I laid there. Eventually the petting became mutual, and less absent-minded. After 2 hours of lazy but intense foreplay we went for a 2nd go around. Sunday morning sex truly is great, not having to get up and be anywhere, laying in bed naked for hours afterwards… what a relaxing way to spend a morning. We finally gave in and got out of bed. I needed to get home to my pooch and we both desperately needed some coffee so we got dressed, ran to the Whole Foods, grabbed some coffee and then he gave me a ride home before venturing out for his afternoon bike ride with friends.

I honestly did not think that Type Geek would come through last night. I especially did NOT think he would venture towards sex, since we hadn’t even had a hot and heavy frustrating make out session yet. Above both of those however, I had never considered that HE would be so good in bed or that I would go to bed with him since there were a couple things I was on the fence about with him. Well, damn, if you can push my buttons and get me to curl up in a ball and laugh out loud, you have done a fine job. Type Geek had me laughing my ass off. He done good.

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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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