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Posts Tagged ‘drinks’

Apparently my first photo, the one on Match, looks like a serial killer he says. Because I look too serious, because I’m looking right at the camera, because I look like I’m looking through the viewer. This unnerves him. The other photos he loves, that one, he does not.

We met for drinks Saturday late afternoon and talked about everything from sustainability and healthful foods, to tennis and exes. He started talking about his ex by saying, “I know there’s a rule against this on a first date, but…” and so I told him a bit about Type Geek. His ex is a model who likes being taken care of financially and can’t emotionally connect, mine is a man who knows how to spend money and likes the idea of a woman, but can’t emotionally connect. Perhaps we should introduce the two.

One drink turned to two, to 4, to dinner and too much conversation with these two fellows who sat beside us, a cuban born  troublemaker and his midwestern colleague.  Apparently they think I look like some sports newscaster, while I’ve always been told Billie Piper and Jeri Ryan. At least they are all beautiful women, I will give them that.

Conversation was easy, flirting was moderate, and as we parted, he pulled me close for a hug and a kiss on the cheek and told me what a great time he had. He then proceeded to text me a bit that night as he met up with some mates and had another drink or two, which ended with him a bit drunk. This morning, pre run, he texted me that he was feeling rough, but wanted to reiterate that he had a great time last night. Well, that’s a  good sign, right?

I’m talking to a few men, most are semi tech-head geeky and this one was more athletic smarty geeky..and hot, but a total apple fan boy, with an accent, and good style. Would it be improper for me to say that I really need to get laid soon? I need it to be good sex too. Sigh. Santa?!!!

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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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So, I didn’t drink the beer, but I kissed the Quebecer. He looks like a more intellectual, better traveled, far more sardonic and jaded Josh Lucas. I never thought much about Josh Lucas, or facial hair, until it was sitting before me speaking french. Parisian French don’t do a lot for me, but after years of working with some French Canadian Circus folks and having a thick ancestry in Quebec, I have a soft spot for cute Québécois!

I had a meeting with my personal advisor around 3 but due to some conflicts with her earlier clients, it was pushed til 3:30. Frenchie and I met in front of a local coffee shop because my throat was feeling a bit scratchy and I was dying for some hot tea and honey. The cafe was busy though, a line nearly out the door, so we decided to walk 20 minutes to another cafe in a nearby neighborhood. We sat and chatted for a bit. He was cute. Cuter in person than on-line. That academia meets no longer hipster but still hipper than most thing. A more New York version of Josh Lucas, except with the ability to speak hot french. Holy hot french by the way. Damn, I could listen to that all night long. After drinking tea for about a half hour we decided to go have some cocktails. A few in, some talk of hockey and futbol, a revelation that I had slept with his favorite wine seller, whom he didn’t think was gay, and I realized that I really wanted to kiss him. I couldn’t quite read him yet though. He admitted to trying boys once, to make sure, a brave thing to admit to me, but he assumed, rightly so, that I wouldn’t judge. In fact, I found it quite sexy that he could be secure enough to explore himself and his sexuality so fully. Not many men are capable of that. A couple of drinks in each and we were a little tipsy. We decided to head over for some Syrian/middle eastern food.

Less than a block from the bar, I pulled on his arm and drew him closer because I just needed to know. Good kisses. Definitely. We made it to the restaurant, ordered a couple of drinks at the bar while we waited for our table and chatted some more. I allowed him to order for me at the table and we talked more than flirted, although the flirt was there. Eventually he told me how attractive he considered me, a compliment always, nice to hear when it comes genuinely in a moment that isn’t expected. His hand touched my knee a few times, and the smiles came easily. While slightly jaded and cynical, he also carries a genuine openness that many don’t possess. He is far more attractive in person than he appears on-line. I don’t think photos are able to do him justice, as part of his appeal is his personality and physical energy, which is difficult to capture in a photo.

We finished our meal of assorted appetizers; baked eggplants, lamb, fava beans and stuffed grape leaves. We commented on the patrons, the staff, the server, and the music. Occasionally we caught glances at each other that lasted a little longer than necessary or accompanied a smirk that wasn’t necessary. The flirt was definitely on.

It was getting late and both of our dogs needed walking, plus, it’s always good to leave wanting more. As we left, we walked past the train station and I decided to get on, he was surprised, but I thought that it was better to leave while we were ahead. I also had a mildly scratchy throat and in the case that I was coming down with something, anything more than street kisses, might pass on a cold to this poor guy, if that is what I am coming down with. We kissed for a few minutes next to the station entrance and I was pleased that it was even better than the first time I kissed him. We looked at each other for a moment and sighed. One last quick kiss and I ran down the stairs. I was tempted to text him, to run back up and kiss him again, but I refrained. It’s nice to want sometimes.

I sat on the train and smirked on my ride home. When I reached my station, I received a text from him. He thanked me for a great date and voiced his wishes that I had been able to stay and make out with him for a little longer. I responded that sometimes it’s nice to leave wanting more. He wants me to come to his place and make him dinner. I suspect I shall, sooner than later. I also suspect that I will have some extended hot make out sessions with french spoken in my ear as I feed him one of the best home cooked meals he has had in a while, although, his mom is from Montreal and makes an amazing coq co vin. I may have a challenge on my hands, how can I out cook his mom?

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