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Posts Tagged ‘making out’

 Of course. That’s become the motto of the moment. It covers so many things and is, quite simply, the most appropriate response to most occurrences in life. Last week was a slow dragged out week of almosts. Type Geek and I tried late night naughtiness 3 nights in a row, with each night becoming a huge FAIL. Due to his work schedule, family issues, and his travel to Europe, he wasn’t able to make it work except for one night. That one night, however, he fell asleep without unlocking the door for me first. SIGH. Now, he is in Europe, drinking good beer, eating better food, and hopefully relaxing more than he has been able to in months.

Meanwhile, I was looking forward to the spare time so I could get to know Cooper Fiennes a bit more. I wasn’t sure what that meant yet exactly, BUT, I did know that it would be easier to explore it without the concerns of scheduling around Type Geek. I adore Type Geek. He is comfortable to be around, sweet and does this thing with his nose when he is in thought that just makes me die. It’s cute and endearing BUT also kind of a turn on because it’s so humanizing. I look forward to spending time with him when I do, but it is easy to make him a priority amongst my dates, as he has been around longer. The night he flew out I had dinner with C.F. and we just walked around the city for hours afterwards. He has lived here for a little bit now, but, there are many areas that he is unfamiliar with. Nicely played were his spontaneous attacks of kisses in doorways and exterior alcoves on a chilly night. We parted ways at the last train and I definitely was wanting more.

The next night he asked if I wanted to come have wine. I declined. I didn’t want to come over so soon, I knew where I might try to lead it, so I said I would rain check. He made a snarky comment about how his religion doesn’t allow him to have wine with the same beautiful woman two nights in a row anyway and he is, of course, very religious. So, it’s good I declined. I let him get away with corny ridiculous comments because he is always saying them in jest and with a smirk that forgives many things. Instead of an intense make out session with him, I stopped at Whole Foods, then wandered home for dinner and some writing. The next morning is when everything went WRONG.

My website was acting strangely and so I put in a support ticket. This support ticket led to a discussion of upgrades and an agreement on a pay-per-upgrade fee with my hosting site. As I looked around for my credit card so that I could pay the invoice, it was no where to be found. The day before a 3 day federal holiday weekend and now I need to get a new license, new social security card, new bank card, new LIFE. Ugh.I spent 2 hours in the Motor Vehicle offices getting my new license, the upside being that they allowed me to retake the god awful photo from ten years before. I was unsuccessful in the Social Security Card but I was successful in getting the bank to provide me cash without an id! Yes! I texted Cooper Fiennes about my day and said quite simply, “I need a drink”. He responded that he would think up something fun, so I should come meet him after walking my dog.

 That evening there was wandering around, there were cocktails, Indian food, and when he asked if I wanted to go home or…. I interrupted by saying, “I’ll take a cab, let’s go make out”. We spent 2 hours chatting at his place, showing each other photos on Facebook, and staying a foot apart at all times. Were we pilgrims? Amish? WTF is with this distance thing? I think we were both trying to access the situation. Eventually I laid across his bed as I read something he was showing me, hoping that my horizontal position would inspire some decision making on his part. Did it EVER!! I was fully planning a night of MAKING OUT, but, I brought condoms JUST IN CASE. I also had no idea of size, so I brought regular and large versions of the Kimono MicroThins. 4 hours of awesome sex later, we fell asleep to the sun coming up and birds chirping outside the window. Iced Coffee, random street kisses and sideways smirks were how we ended the morning as we came into the city together and went off to do our separate things.

On Sunday I decided to do some housework and hang out in my general home area. AS I was trying to open the jammed window, I slipped and ended up falling into the window just enough to spider web it. Anyone ever try to get a replacement glass repair done on a window over a holiday weekend?I opted to wait until midweek on that but Cooper Fiennes was insistent on my meeting up after his picnic so that he could cheer me up. Coffee and a late dinner mixed with back rubs and kisses in the public park were not just what THAT doctor ordered but also what really cured my grr. We said ciao at the last train and headed our separate ways, only after seeing a naked man in the hotel window 4 floors above the train station. This set both of our minds wandering and resulted in several hours of gchat sexual confessions once we both arrived at our homes. I slept 4 hours, fully committed to spending Monday getting the work done around the house that I said I would, only CF texted me at noon asking if I was hungry. So, brunch at 2:30 turned into ice cream at 4 and his taking an hour rowing class while I walked around a bit. Then we met back up, had a not so late, for us, dinner, and more back rubs and make outs on our park bench before the last train. I wanted to go home with him. I also wanted to curse mother nature since my period showed up yesterday, eliminating the endless sex I was planning for the week. Sigh.

I’m having moments of feeling guilty for carrying on with two men at one time. Why should I though? I’m not exclusive with either. I haven’t lied, I am practicing safe sex and, other than the annoying douche bag former lawyer guy from a few weeks ago, these are not one night stands. These are men whom I am genuinely interested in and enjoy their company. One of the situations has a clearly defined expiration date due to the nature of his research and his return to Barcelona. The other? Well, we shall see what becomes of that. I’m not going to be the one to have that conversation about exclusivity, because I don’t want to answer the question when it shows up. Avoidance and a lot of weaving and ducking… those will be my weapon, should the conversation be brought up by Type Geek.

The holiday weekend is over. There are over 50 wildfires in Quebec and I wonder if the Mayan’s might be right about 2012. If so, I plan on living as much as possible between now and then. If that means some sexy Spaniard and some orally fixated musician turned designer at this juncture in time, then, of course, bring it on!

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I don’t talk to people on the phone prior to meeting them. I know this sounds odd. There are a number of reasons for this though. First, you can’t see someone’s face, so you may not be able to pick up subtleties in the conversation. Second, some people are poor telephone conversationalists but GREAT in person. It isn’t fair to make the telephone conversation your first impression of them. Third, and last, IF the conversation flows, a false sense of intimacy can occur. So, I like to meet for coffee as soon as possible and see if investing in awkward conversations on the telephone are worth the hassle. No spark, no need, right?

Well, Mr Bratty McLawyer turned IT Guy, or Bratty McLaw, as I will call him, insisted that I call him. UGH, FINE! He was cute and charming in his messages and his profiles, so I figured I would go ahead and break that one rule. I wanted to hang up on him after talking to him for an hour. I was finding him to be egotistical, self-centered, arrogant, insulting, condescending and rude. It didn’t seem like the man who had been corresponding with me, so I spoke up and gave him a bit of a verbal smack down and, after being stunned silent, he apologized for how he came off and changed course to try to resurrect the conversation, if possible. We spent 10 hours on the phone. The sun came up and I said good-bye to him and hung up as I locked the door behind me and headed to work. It wasn’t an amazingly passionate conversation. It wasn’t even that we connected in some deep sense. The conversations pale in comparison to the things said in my shared silences when I was with Brooklyn, however, he was interested and charming, so I kept talking. I am far too old for a night without sleep these days.

I came home from work and took a few hours nap, and began some laundry. It was chilly out however and I really wanted to get out and have a cocktail by a fireplace somewhere. My other possibilities were not available, so I texted Bratty McLaw and asked if he wanted to have a drink in a few hours. He eagerly confirmed and we agreed to meet in 2 hours.

Shower, run to laundromat, move clothes to dryer, run home, apply make up and finish getting dressed, run to laundromat and grab dry clothes, run home and drop off, walk dog, grab purse, catch bus to subway, subway to taxi and drive by as he is walking down the street thinking he will meet me at the train station. Umm, I said I would meet you at the bar silly boy. Geez. Luckily I saw him and was able to get the cab driver to pull over and let me out early. I rang him on the phone and proceeded to direct him in my direction. There was a humourous moment of voyeurism that I found myself stuck in as I was able to pull his strings and move him without his knowledge as to where I was or how I was able to see him so clearly when he didn’t see me anywhere.

He was cute in person. Not breathtaking, but attractive. Softer facial features than the photos in his profile implied. We decided, as we stood on the street, that my original location choice for a rendezvous wasn’t actually what either of us were feeling. So, we opted to walk to his car and drive over to a different bar. Chemistry, mmm, ish. 6′ 2″, blonde, fit but not gym rat like, comfortable smile, arty glasses, and just enough vanity to be self-confident in person. I was honestly worried that he would be the schmuck I was thinking he might be when we first started chatting the night earlier. This person though, it wasn’t there. Perhaps it was nervousness that led him to project the persona of douche bag shithead, but luckily, whatever it was, it was nowhere in sight when we were in person.

We arrived at the second bar around 10 pm. It was dead. Which, honestly, was quite fine. We sat at a high top and each ordered a glass of wine. He was snackie, so we also had some spinach artichoke dip. Conversation was friendly. By the second glass of wine, he was reaching for my hand and stroking my arm. By the 3rd, he was kissing me. Did the kisses overwhelm me and leave me speechless? No, but they were quite good. His kissing style is similar to mine and it felt nice. We decided to go back to his place and make out a bit more. My dog could easily do an 8 hour span of time between potty breaks, and since it was midnight at this point, she was probably sleeping anyway and wouldn’t miss me for a few more hours, at least.

We drove back to his place and I took off my heels as we walked up to his apartment. Heels on wood stairs in these old multi unit buildings, well, I would have woken everyone in the building. He made me sit on the stair outside his unit while he took 5 minutes to tidy up. I chuckled. Knowing the current condition of my own residence, there is virtually nothing, short of live creatures roaming about, that would offend me. I live in a cluttered construction zone, bring on your mess… I can trump it right now buddy.

A few minutes later he comes out and ushers me in quietly. His roommate is sleeping on the other end of the unit so we need to be self-aware of voices and laughter. So, why put on Colbert and Jon Stewart if you don’t want me to laugh out loud?! The laughing didn’t last long however, as he made his move within 5 minutes of us sitting on the couch together. My rule for the night…. sadly overdue for a wax… I look like a hippy body hair loving freak… hands stay out of the pants and they stay on.

An hour of making out on the couch can kill any back, so, logically we move to the sleep number bed. We play with the settings, laugh some more amidst some occasional shhhh’s from the each of us to the other. So, the shirts end up off. Of course they do. Then, even though I say…warning will robinson…danger danger… furry wildebeast…stay away from the Northern region… I end up with his hand down my pants. He said that he would take note of my objection and embarrassment and keep in mind that au naturale is not my current state… and then he peeled the jeans completely off. Oh oy vey. This is not leading anywhere good, is it?

Well, leading anywhere good? Hmm, well, after a lot of frustrating teenage grinding in our undies… I stopped him and stated what we both knew. Let’s just admit that we are going to have sex and rather than keep up with this silliness under the ruse that we aren’t going to…. go get the goddamn condoms now. So, student driver finally got laid. Was in earth shattering? No. Did it need to be? No. Was he a sweet and kind lover? Yes. It was comfortable, even though I was furry as all get out and embarrassed by that. We were both exhausted from the previous nights marathon conversation and our lack of sleep, so neither of us got off in the end, but it felt great regardless. The sun was coming up as we finally disengaged and gave up on a definable finish line. We set the alarm for 3 hours, so we could get a little sleep, and then readjusted our personal sleep numbers for our individualized snoozing comfort.

The dog? She was asleep on the bed when I walked in the door at 8:45 am. She hadn’t noticed that I hadn’t come home that night, in fact, she seemed quite pleased to have the bed entirely to herself.

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My internal GPS is a little off these days. It seems that there are a lot of roads under construction and I haven’t yet updated the latest maps. In the 3 months since I started this site many things have happened. I have dated brothers, accidentally. I have been thrown out of a mall for making out with a 20 something kid, on a bench at 2 am, like horny teenagers. I’ve been stood up, stuck with the tab, and gone to 3rd base more times than I had in the last 4 years. I have figured out what I like and don’t like in men and in doing that, realized a bit more about what i did and didn’t like about loving women. I have also figured out some things about myself.

The big question right now is one of direction. While I haven’t officially stopped seeing other men, I haven’t been going out with them. I have lost interest in the chase, because in the end, it’s a lot of work for little reward. I enjoy hanging out with Brooklyn, regardless of what we do. Regardless if nudity and/or passionate making out is involved. I enjoy occupying the same physical space as him and just sitting. I am able to achieve an almost meditative calm with him that I can’t achieve at a Buddhist center in a structured session of sitting. So, where is this blog going? How do I bring the edge back? The humor? I realize that life is a series of moments and not all moments are filled with hilarity but that is why you all tune in, no? If you wanted bad romance, you would rent a copy of The Notebook and eat Haagen Daaz.

The last month has been interesting. Healing, in a lot of ways. Frustrating, in others. Trying to navigate the waters of this man’s personal river of separation, children, soon to be ex wife, and issues surrounding relationships and sex has been unlike anything I have experienced. I would love to hear from people out there who have experienced similar things. Perhaps you dated a divorcee with kids? Perhaps you are the ex wife; what were you feeling when he first started dating someone new? Maybe you are the dad, recently separated and moving on with your life. What were you feeling when you met someone new who you were really interested in? How did this factor into your life? Where there funny moments? Difficult moments? Please share your stories. Thanks everyone for hanging out with me and keeping me company on this journey.

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

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I had the birthday that almost wasn’t. The night before I had met up with a friend for Pho, knowing I was sick, he offered to drive up to the curb and pick me up, then drive me the few blocks to my condo.I had all of my belongings in my hand, including my phone and walked 8 feet to his car. I remembered looking at my phone in my hand in the car. I then hug him goodbye and get out of the car and walk the 8 feet to my door, unlock it, place everything on the chair next to the door and walk my dog. When I got back in I went for my phone so that I could call Brooklyn back in order to coordinate our plans for my bday but my phone wasn’t there. Hell, it was in his car. I had a friend online texting the friend whose car it was in, only to have that friend respond repeatedly that it wasn’t in there. I’m not crazy, days later and I still say that eventually it is going to show up in his car. Now, here is where it get’s funny. As I am talking to Brooklyn via internet IM, a storm is coming through and wipes out his power. So, he is available only by phone and I am available only by email. Well, surely his power will be on by the morning, right? No, it wasn’t. He sent a text message to my email letting me know his phone battery was dying and I responded by exclaiming that he needed to get out of his town and find someplace with power to recharge!!!

It’s 4 pm before I get a new phone, which before mail in rebate, kills my budget. As soon as it is charged I send-off a text to Brooklyn hoping that all is going to run smoothly. The little alert button makes its special little noise and success, we are reconnected! The day’s follies are yet to be over though! I rush home, meet my last client and jump in the shower. We plan on his picking me up around 6, but he gets lost. This seems to be something he does quite often. He recently called me from Brooklyn, completely lost and needing my mapquest help. It’s endearing, it doesn’t bother me. As someone who runs always 15 minutes late, it buys me time in getting ready! He calls me at 6:30 and again, I pull out the mapquest and talk him through the route. I hang up when he is 4 minutes from me, a straight line of 8 blocks. 15 minutes later he is still not at my house. Did he evaporate on the bridge? Finally he shows up, turns out he got a work call that required his urgent attention and needed to pull over to write some things down. I finally get into the family van at 7. I don’t care about any plans other than hanging out with him, so the evening is already a success in my mind.

He had said that he wanted to take me out to dinner at least, so I decided I was craving mussels and french fries and we headed to a place that has a non traditional approach, cooking the mussels in a Thai coconut milk and lime broth. Yummers! There was a half hour wait by the time we got there, after getting lost, of course. We walked down to a little bookstore and wandered around for 20 min to pass the time waiting for our table. He looked at a book on Gnomes, a favorite of mine from childhood, while I bought a book about the Bronx Zoo, printed in 1913. The restaurant called us and we headed over. We had plantains to start and then our meals came, Brooklyn had never had french fries dipped in mayo, which is the only way to have them with mussels, and he had never had mussels. Yay, two firsts eliminated with one meal!

What to do next? It was only 10. I had read that there was a midnight viewing of a 1974 sexploitation film at a local theatre that night, so we decided campy and hilarious was the way to go. With two hours to spare we walked to a local cafe and sat and drank tea for an hour, only to be kicked out at 11 when they were closing. PLEASE, closing at 11 pm on a Friday night? I miss NYC. We walked to the car and drove over to the neighborhood where the movie was showing. At that hour, in this town parking was easy and the theatre said we didn’t need to pre purchase tickets because there was no way it would sell out. Okay, 45 minutes to burn until movie time. There was a cute little bar a block down the street and tables available, craziness. Again, with this being a Friday and a ghost town. WTF?! We cozied up at a table and made mention to each other that we are that obnoxious pda couple at bars and restaurants. The sheer amount of times we kissed across the dinner table or I fed him a mussel or french fry by hand. Ha, oh well. We looked at the clock. Shit shit movie starts at 12:30, it’s 12:32.

We walked quickly to the theatre and made it just as they were locking the door, phew! He got the tickets, I bought the peanut m&m’s and we settled into one of the last rows. The theatre staff wasn’t joking. This particular theatre seats 350 people, at least. There were maybe 15 people there, total. The film was hysterical. The acting, the clothes, the soundtrack, all of it was pure 70’s brilliance. I fed Brooklyn m&m’s while we kissed and laughed our asses off. At one point I got up to use the rest room. Upon coming back I straddled him for a minute in his chair for a few minutes of inappropriate public theatre kissing. It was fantastic. Have I mentioned that he is awesome?

By the time the movie was over it was after 2. He needed to get home. I needed to get home. But I also really needed to kiss on him for a bit in a way that was far too intimate to do in public. When we were sitting in the van getting ready to go, I moved all the items from between the seats away so I could kneel there. The seats are so far apart that you can’t sit in your seats and kiss from there. It’s as if he is in Boise and I am in Charlotte. We made out, 98% chastely as we were on a main street, for an hour. He slid my hand down at one point and may I note, knowing what I am missing is not making missing it any easier. Why did we say we are being chaste and waiting? Oh yes, because we are masochists.I am not sure how much longer I can wait without climbing walls. We need to either reduce the amount of times we see each other each week and do so only in public places or we need to, in the great words of Marvin Gaye, get it on.

When he brought me home I was exhausted, yet intensely awake. I straddled him in the car and we kissed for 10 more minutes before we said goodnight. Really, I was a lesbian for 12 years? Who is this boy? He’s killing me slowly but super friggin’ fantastically.

Our Tuesday posts are now being web syndicated by The New Gay. For more intelligent queer coverage of culture, ideas and events, check out www.thenewgay.net

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We agreed on a place and time. Talked several times during the day as I did laundry, showered, changed three times and finally picked up the rental car. He makes me smile. I save his texts for days because they are cute, honest, sincere and without pretense. He recites poetry verses or makes an ass of himself, only I don’t think of him as an ass, so it just endears him more deeply to me. He lets me know that he is thinking of me and that it made him smile and for that he is thankful. Who does that? We talk about wanting men or women, partners, lovers, etc that will bare themselves to us, but then we are turned away by it. The rawness somehow ugly. Brooklyn isn’t ugly though. It’s a calm quiet storm within him, but more about that later.

I text him that I was stuck on the wrong end of a drawbridge and will be there closer to 7.  He texts back that he is leaving his house in 5 and that he wins. I seethed in humor driven competition. Damn him! I am 5 minutes away, perhaps 7. I take a wrong turn and panic, damn, he is going to get there first. I finally find my way and then the parking lots are full. I am pleased however to see that his car is not there. Hmm, perhaps I can still win?! Just as I am trying to back out of the lot a couple approaches their car to leave. SCORE! I park, dig in my purse and pull myself together. I am almost to the entrance when I glance behind me and see him approaching. Ha Ha, I win! He gives me a quick kiss, even though we agreed that discretion in his own town is important. The impending divorce is not public knowledge and his ex just found out he is on a dating site. I don’t know how she could handle that he has met someone on the dating site. Although, women aren’t blind. I am sure that she suspects something, his behavior must be changed a bit.

The bar where we meet is packed. There are no discrete places to sit for a drink and so we decide to go elsewhere. We wander around the neighborhood a bit and end up in a friendly neighborhood pub. At the bar we stroke hands below the surface. We laugh, smirk, talk and stare at each other… still a little more obvious than not BUT hands stay below, where no one can see them. I admire a young girl who walks by, roughly 3 years old. The dad jokes with me that I can have her. I say, well, I don’t live in a little town like this, I live in a bigger city and I have a dog, how is she with dogs? The man then flirts with me a bit, funny that he does so in front of Brooklyn. Ballsy. He asks if Brooklyn is my husband, I laugh and say no. My boyfriend? Friend? Date? I just laugh. He then asks how Brooklyn is doing. As in, is he a good date? I laugh and look at Brooklyn, smile and respond to the ballsy guy,”He’s great. He’s awesome actually.”  The ballsy guy smiles, nods and says goodnight before heading back to his table. We finish up and then start walking over to the theatre for the show. I try to pull him into an alley for a kiss but he realizes he doesn’t have his ID on him and that we might need to run back to the car if they ask for it at will call. They don’t and I tell him that he missed out on a perfectly good kiss because he was over thinking.

We are the youngest people in the audience. The median age appears to be 65.We are relieved when the lights go down, allowing us the freedom to be affectionate without concern. He strokes my hands and wrists with his fingers and we lean into each other. He laughs and whispers in my ear that it is ironic how this is the longest he has seen me go without a smile, and that we are at a comedy show. Neither of us find the comedian’s routine to be that funny. However, he knows his audience and the crowd loves him. We just sit there laughing at each other and the people surrounding us. We are thankful for intermission. I rush down to the bathroom and when I get back to my seat, I cannot find him. I send him a text asking where he is, only to have him texting me back to join him for a drink at the bar on the first level. He flirts with me and keeps calling it our first date. I remind him that we have hung out 4 other times. He smiles and decides that he is going to call every date our first. He then proceeds to set me up for a fake interview for a book he is doing on Brooklyn. My face hurts from smiling.

We head back upstairs to the show, hoping that we have missed enough of the second act to make it bearable. Barely. On our way out we thank the comedian for a fun evening and head outside. As I try to extend my car reservation, it appears someone else booked it close enough to my reservation to give the night a wee  bit of bummer. I extend for as long as I can and decide, sometimes the late fee is worth it. We end up parked at the beach, in February. Standing in the sand, we kiss for a few minutes until my hands and ears go numb. It’s beautiful and in warmer weather, I am so there. We end up in the backseat of the car listening to Shudder to Think and making out. Nothing too dramatic. Hot, but also sweet. Yes, I do at some point maneuver a hand grab so I can have an idea of what I am dealing with. Apparently, much to my happy findings, the Catholic Polish have a thing or two in common with the nice Jewish boys I have known. Now, the backseat of a Scion isn’t all that roomy, let me tell you. But it’s nice. We don’t say much. We often don’t say much to each other. It’s as if we have the close comforting familiarity of old friends. Old friends who happen to be very hot for each other. I told him that I was planning on keeping him. That I ripped the tag off and threw away the receipt. He inquired about what I would do when he breaks, won’t I want to return him then. I laughed and explained that duct tape fixes most breaks.

We spent the remaining few minutes before I had to leave curled up together awkwardly. We just closed our eyes and enjoyed the quiet. The next 40 minutes were a whirlwind. He is roughly 49 minutes from my house , we were ten minutes from the location I map-quested originally, so add-on another 10 minutes. He drove us back in the rental to his car and led me to the highway on ramp. The car needed to be back in a half hour. I am an hour away and have 30 minutes to get there. I call to let them know I will be about 10 minutes late and speed down the highway going close to 90 for most of it. I make it there in a hair under 40 minutes, including a pit stop at my house to drop off my laptop so I am not carrying that home on the street at 2 am asking to be mugged. We text back and forth a few times as I walk home, he had asked to hear from me, to make sure I arrived safely. Knowing how fast I was driving, he was worried. He left me cute messages and then we said our good nights. We talk everyday now. Is this strange?

Our Tuesday posts are now being web syndicated by The New Gay. For more intelligent queer coverage of culture, ideas and events, check out www.thenewgay.net

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I wasn’t looking forward to meeting the dental student for coffee yesterday. I had been but then our chat the night prior was a buzz kill. His age is a huge red flag, being 9 years YOUNGER is not something I am looking to deal with but there have been things he has said on-line that were surprising and not in line with a boy of his age. So, why did I still meet up, even though I wasn’t feeling it? Having been stood up myself, I find it sucks, even last-minute cancellations. One cup of coffee in public won’t hurt someone. Additionally, we had arranged a quid pro quo for the future. He needs a patient for his dental board exams and I need some cavities filled. Having coffee and letting him drill my teeth doesn’t mean I need to fuck him, so I sighed and went through with our meet up.

Briefly, before I talk of our meeting, let me explain why I had reservations about following through. Online, the first chats are generally light, as you get to know people. The 3rd or 4th starts to show signs of more adult conversations, sex and sexuality as a whole. So, we start talking about our sexual leanings and I am a very open-minded person who has tried many things and realized in the end that sometimes a dish of vanilla is good, but that dish should be Madagascar bourbon vanilla bean. On occasion I like to add some coconut, caramel, and sea salt, perhaps some rosemary or citrus zest. Hell, even bacon. But, you can’t go wrong with good old plain hot sexy rich vanilla. So, he states that he ONLY likes rough sex. ONLY. Also, that he never lets a girl top him. Sex games can be great fun, as long as the emphasis is on FUN. If you aren’t doing it out of a mutual desire to enjoy and respect your partner, their body, and their boundaries , then it isn’t fun. Now, I suggested that his need for control might stem from the facts that he is a student without much control over his day-to-day life, his father handles his finances, pays his bills, etc. so perhaps it was the one time he felt he could be in control. He denied this but then later hinted at having been hurt by women in earlier relationships and this resentment being part of why he only has rough sex now, it detaches him. So, his sexual lifestyle is based on showing women what he can do and how in control he is, rather than them. He enjoys spanking and choking during sex as well. I think his style and his reasons are potentially volatile. I worry for him, that if he isn’t able to allow himself to trust and open up to a sexual partner, someone might get hurt. So, with all of this said, he is not in the running for a hot sex partner, but I’ll help him out with the exam and perhaps we will be friends.

When he arrives, I am already sitting in the back room and drinking my coffee. First physical impression, very cute. Adorable in fact. Holy dimples. I find it hard to believe that this cute thing is all about rough grudge fucking. Sad. We talk for an hour and the conversation is great, so good in fact, that I wish I had other info on him. If he was a huge snuggly thing that just liked regular sex, he could be very fun. He texted me later and asked if I had fun with him at our coffee date. I didn’t lie, I did. He’s charming.  But he is too risky.

I ran home, late, walked the dog, fed her, myself and jumped in the shower… late. Then a public transportation delay and late. But sweet goodness, my Future Lawyer who wants to save the world, was also late! Sigh of relief. Sometimes the unpredictability of public transportation is fantastic. We met at a bookstore café and then walked down to a small club listen to some jazz. This place has been in business for nearly 70 years. Great little hole in the wall.

We had four cocktails and great conversation. He’s studying for his bar this year, he is an RA at his university, he likes his parents and respects that I don’t like mine. (Shhh, he’s a Jew too, of course, duh) We eventually kissed and the boy has some great lips. So, we left, and thought about going somewhere else, only to realize that everything closes early in this town anyway. We made out for a while outside but it was freezing, we then decided to walk through the closed mall in an attempt to warm up while we planned out next move. It turned out that our next move involved an hour of making out on a bench in the mall, partially hidden by shrubbery in their faux indoor garden, we were mostly incognito. We hit 2nd base easily and it was fun. THEN, as things were more and more heated, and I leaned back a bit on the bench so he could lean into me, I put us just enough in view, that the security guard walking by saw us. Needless to say we were halted and thrown out of the mall by a mall cop younger than both of us. I would have been humiliated had it not been so damn hot.

We parted ways at the cab stand outside and texted each other a few pleasantries of what a great night it was and how we really enjoyed each other before sleep hit at 3:45 am.

Now, 12 hours later, I am meeting a 37 year old professional photographer for coffee, and running late because of the writing of this post.

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The weather was so great yesterday, a reprieve from the month of bone chilling temps. I awoke in the morning with multi-layered guilt. It was a guilt trifle, if you will. My pup has had cabin fever from a lack of canine fun and I had stood up the Turk numerous times, so I decided to combine the two and remove the guilt in one train ride. The pup and I met the Turk outside Starbucks and proceeded to walk and talk , get a tea, then walk and talk some more.We ended up back at his house eating some sautéed shrimp, drinking some wine and making out, with my having to lay down the law on 2nd base making out only. He was pouty about this but dealt with it.

He’s nice, young, eager, stable BUT…. there is always a but, isn’t there? I don’t feel it. My toes don’t get all curly when we kiss like they did with the Peruvian. I am also fairly confident in my belief that he is a bit of a player. That, in and of itself, is fine, however, don’t play me. If you want to have sex with me, DON’T feed me a line of bullshit to get me to go to bed with you. I will if I am interested and I won’t if I am not. While I am not easy, per se, I don’t play sexual games of cat and mouse if I want someone. The only time games are introduced is if they are naughty and sexy and mutually agreed upon. So, why do I think he is a player? Aside from the truth of the night we met and that we were both making out with numerous people, his words feel too rehearsed at times and he has condoms everywhere in his house. A ridiculous amount of them stashed everywhere. I lost one of my diamond earrings when we were making out and realized it a couple hours later when we had moved from the living room into the bedroom. He has condoms under his bed pillows, stuffed in the couch cushions and under the couch. At all times. Just in case. In case of WHAT? In case of the need to relocate your building?!  He has enough condoms stashed to be a live action version of the film Up, if he were to inflate them all with helium. At least he is into safe sex, but oy vey!

I guess my general feeling of Meh in regards to the Turk also stems from many superficial things that I can’t seem to get past. He razors his head… like Yul Brynner. He shaves his back, sometimes (what about the rest of the time?) because he admits to being a “really hairy guy”. BUT, he doesn’t wax his one giant eyebrow. Really? Why not? Oh, and there is a weird thing he did when we were making out at his house. Not that WHAT he did was necessarily WEIRD,but that he chose to do it so soon and without testing the waters. He is a tit slapper. What in the fuck is with that?! Yeah, no, I don’t like that. That’s distracting and silly to me. Stop that.

So, I have a general degree of meh-ness when it comes to him. I’m not excited about him, at all and that seems unfair to him, however, I don’t think he necessarily cares HOW excited I am, as long as I am willing to make out with him. I am however finding myself excited when I think about the Musician,Writer,Assoc Prod guy. I need a new name for him, any suggestions? Even though our date had to be delayed on Friday, I find our gmail chats to be refreshing and something I look forward to. He has a sweetness about him that makes me smirk. A smirk is a very good thing.

All in all, a slow week. The foreigner friend of mine and I are headed out for cupcakes to soothe my menstrual craving, nomnomnom, and perhaps a hazelnut mocha as well.

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