Posts Tagged ‘hickies’

Hulu might just be the most terribly boring way to spend a Christmas. In this case, boring is good. No family drama, no expectations, no obsessive niceties, and no regrets of things that should have or could have been said or done. I had planned to get together with the Jewish dad either yesterday or today, however, I suddenly found myself feeling extremely introverted and anti-social. I am also feeling guilty, or at least, my astrology.com daily love tarot reading  is making me feel like an asshole. I have received the same identical reading in my email for weeks. King of Pentacles. Eeek. This is what it says:

 “The King of Pentacles card suggests that when it comes to your relationship or love life, there can be too much of a good thing, particularly if you fall into the trap of showing off. Like an all-you-can-eat buffet, where what you want is quantity, the situation changes or disappears once the want has been sated. But in matters of the heart, do what you believe, which, like a banquet, is all about quality. Tend to what you need, consider those who rely on you for support and practice gratitude. You may find that you are surrounded by a cornucopia of abundance and in a position to share this bounty with others. The more you give, the less you will suffer want in the first place. Get back to basics and make a clean sweep of those things that are cluttering up your love life or distracting you from true commitment and sensual pleasure.”

Ok, so this blog is bad karma? Am I dooming myself because of it? Oh geez, as if I needed ANOTHER existential dilemma in my life. So, in my moments of reflection today, in between my bouts of cursing at my email, I thought about what I have been doing. I have not been going out with anyone I didn’t find genuinely interesting and attractive or potentially attractive. My interest has begun to wain in some of them, when you don’t meet right away, the initial excitement can wear down and it can begin to feel like scheduling a dental appointment. The sites have been quiet, no new members that are peeking my interest at the moment.

The hickie guy was nice, he wants to go out again, but I don’t know, I’m just not really there. I think it was a really fun couple of dates but ultimately I have to ask myself if I find the nightly quest for a gig to watch my idea of fun. I don’t. Plus, he’s cute but the thought of him doesn’t excite me. It should, right? Farmer guy? Really nice and funny and attractive but Jesus Christ man, I can’t wait forever for someone to decide whether they want to make a move. He is reminding me of this artist/musician whom I had a crush on for almost a year when I was 17. I met this guy at a pledge drive for a community radio station I used to volunteer at and thought he was the cutest thing. He had these crazy curls on his head and was covered with potters dust and clay, as he must have just come from his studio to the station. I was friends with him and his then girlfriend for about 6 months and then lost track of them both. One night I ran into him at one of the dance clubs I frequented. We went for a walk and were catching up and then sat down on the tracks behind the club. Eventually, he made the move to kiss me. It was the single worst kiss of my entire life. I honestly mopped my face off after and got up and, if my memory serves me correctly, never spoke to him again. It really was THAT bad. So, you see, now I fear that if farmer were to try to kiss me… it would be like those train tracks. Where else does that leave me? The one I want to go back out with but that is “overwhelmed” with life at the moment. So, I have stayed away all week until a nice short Merry Christmas email today and of course the New Year’s Eve invite he will receive tomorrow. If this was a romantic comedy… he would go out with me again. I am attractive, quirky, intelligent, regretful for being wacky, I know how to kiss and I am all about climbing on top of him and kissing him again. I have not heard back from him regarding the email, however with it being Christmas day, I was not assuming that I would, however I do hope that I hear something by Sunday regarding the invite, once he receives it. I am not looking for some great love from this. I find it difficult to find strong physical connections with anyone so this is my reason for wanting to spend time with him again. It feels good to have the body be so alive after such a long silence. Also, did I mention the smile on that man. Kills me.

So, what am I dealing with here? I guess the same thing as everyone out there, except I am blogging about it. Of course, not everyone has just changed sexual orientations to see what else might be out there. Fundamentally I think we are all dealing with the same dilemmas though. Attraction, expectations, loneliness, fear, excitement, regrets, concerns, what if’s, only if’s, could have been’s… and hope. We all have hope, right?

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It was a fairly last minute decision to meet up with him for coffee. I was staying at a client’s house while they were away at a wedding and there was a coffee shop 2 blocks away that was easy to find. When he arrived, I had to remind myself that he was 36. He was wearing old school black cons and a Kangol 504. There was also something decidedly teenage in his handling of his own body. When we said hello, he was nervous and shuffled as he greeted me. I could catch him looking at me when my own eyes were slightly averted, but whenever I looked back at him, he looked down or away. This could become endearing or obnoxious pretty quick.

Once we were sitting in the cafe he talked, but it was difficult to get the topic to stay on him. He answered direct questions but rarely offered extended details. Works in creative technology. Plays in band on the weekends. He redirected back to me a lot, something that doesn’t teach me a lot about the other person and eventually can feel as if it’s without merit to continue trying. I tried to dig and ask specific leading questions. He never aspired to becoming a professional musician and has been content just sitting around a small bar with some friends and “jamming”. He agreed that he is happiest in a corner, watching and observing but rarely participating far beyond that. He was more passive than I thought he would be. He hadn’t had one passionate opinion or stance on anything at that point and I needed to see him take charge of something, so when we decided on getting a cocktail after the café closed, I passed the decision making back onto him. He floundered and stared at me like a woodland animal wandering onto the LA Highway right before evening rush hour. I sighed and made a quick decision and took us to a small hotel bar a few blocks away.

We sat at the table closest to the bar and waited. Several groups came in, others left and we waited. A cluster of YOUNG ladies walked in and sat at the bar. The bartender scowled but served them with as much attention as I have witnessed any man give a young woman with breasts. They ordered Amaretto Sours (excuse me, isn’t that the international sign for potentially underage… CARD the girl regardless of her cleavage!) and giggled. We waited 45 minutes and he never acknowledged us in anyway. We left when a couple sat at the table beside ours and were served within 4 minutes. 5 minutes later we were sitting at the bar of an Irish pub with drinks in hand. With a few cocktails my teenage date loosened up a bit and even talked a bit more, not about himself of course, only about me, but he showed some humor with witty comments about the other bar patrons.

Come closing time, I had consumed three cocktails, one coffee and no dinner. I had spent an evening with someone who was cute enough with hints of potential sardonic wit, or at least mildly clever. I’ve also just gone from 4 years of celibacy to a month of extreme virtual sweet sexiness resulting in 4 days of very pleasing sex. I am saying that I was a bit in need of some attention. I couldn’t get shy boy to decide on a bar or talk in length about himself , so obviously self confidence or even bravado were lacking in him, at least this evening. His interest in me being apparent, I took control of the situation and I pulled him against a building and kissed him.

We made out for 6 hours. It felt naughty since I was in my clients house but risk free since they were gone. I got up to pee and brush out my matted hair. I gasped when I found that I looked like I was beat by the inexperienced horny teenager make out stick. We are in our mid 30’s and following dating etiquette by not surpassing second base on a first date. We own homes. So, why did I suddenly encounter the reality that I was stuck wearing turtlenecks for days? It had been 17 years since my last hicky. Plus he annihilated my bottom lip by chewing on it so much. Amateurs.

My phone ring around 7 am. I ignored it. At 8:30 his realtor called him. I checked my phone. My client had called and then texted to tell me they decided to come home early, and they would be back around !HOLY SHIT! 9 ish. RED ALERT! Where’s my shirt? Where’s your shirt? Watch check. OH hair, hickies, oh geez. YOU HAVE TO LEAVE. He wanted a shower. REALLY? They’ll be here in 15 minutes and you want to shower? NOT my house, you can’t be HERE. Do I have a turtleneck with me? YES! Thank god for the forecast. 8:52. WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!!! I threw his shoes at him. LEAVE. 12 minutes after he left I appeared calm when my client walked through the door. Had I not checked my phone, she could have walked in on us in various degrees of undress, making out on her couch.

We met up again a few days later for a music showcase. It was pleasant but not exciting. His passive nature, while sweet and friendly, felt like an inability to commit to something for fear of making the wrong decision. This time I gave him a peck goodbye and told him we needed to behave because I didn’t want to be THAT girl but mostly, the truth is, because with his unexplainable teenage quality, I felt like Maude to his Harry even though we are within a year of each other. And everyone knows how unsexy that relationship was.

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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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