Talking Sex with an Ex
I'll admit it: I talked at length about sex with an ex, namely Behinder (the guy my friends say I am still in love with). I usually cringe when calling him an ex, because we only really dated for a couple of weeks, but whatever. Right? We dated. It was hot and heavy and surprisingly serious. He's an ex.
It started when I shared the comments of, interestingly enough, one of the same people who has been jeering me about still having feelings for the guy. "You need the sense fucked into you," he said. I might as well come up with a name for the guy, since I've mentioned him twice now. Er... yes. The Goblin, because it suits his personality well.
Goblin was harassing me about having hot and heavy sex talks with behinder on a semi-regular basis. Prompted by me? No, no, definitely not. Behinder would go out of his way to try and bring up past shared sexual experiences to gauge my reaction, or tease me with things he knew I found arousing. His coup de gras was getting me to masturbate after getting so excited that I couldn't help myself. Not in his presence mind you. Just online via chat. Of course, he was doing the same thing.
Was it wrong? It felt wrong, but oh-so-right at the same time. Later, much later, I found out that he was dating the STD nurse during this whole eight month long fiasco. She had no idea at the time what her boyfriend was doing with me, nor did she know of the overlap between us when they first met. Eventually she 'forgave him' his transgressions, because "nothing physical ever happened". Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?
When I found out about him having a girlfriend while seducing me yet again, I blew up. Wasn't pretty, but was drawn out. I felt betrayed in ways I couldn't describe - even more so than if we'd done the deed (again). Why? Because to me, the seduction was more intimate than any sexual encounter Behinder and I had shared - and we'd shared some intensely personal sessions. And so now, I won't talk sex with an ex - because I know now that (a) he's probably got someone else I don't know about, and (b) its so much more intimate for me to get in my head than get in my pants.
Updates on My Dates
Lots to share in a short time frame. Let's see how much I can cover!
The Farmer decided that he had to tell me he was going on a non-date with a woman he'd made out with before last Saturday night. The non-date (his words) were to occur at a pool with her in her bikini, which he assured me was a very good thing. Before I could ask why this was important information for him to share, he was gone. The next day, he tells me he was too sick from some sort of food poisoning to "do her again" in the morning, aka morning sex. He still was adamant it wasn't a date. Suddenly, he seemed to realize how inappropriate his rantings were, and mentioned he was doing a pretty good job of putting his foot in his mouth. I haven't bothered talking to him since.
A series of strange events with Better than Sex Guy has had me calling him at his request, and him not picking up or returning my calls, although when I ran into him on the street the other day (completely unawares it was him at first - he looks quite a bit older than his pics in person), he made me promise to call him again. So, I did, one last time, to invite him to the farmer's market. He ignored me, I went anyway, and lo and behold who do I run into as I'm leaving? Him, his son, and a very attractive young redhead, who waved and said hello to me while I tried to get Better than Sex Guy's attention. Somehow he never saw me, so I chatted briefly with the woman at his side. When I got home, I had an email from him stating his son's mom was in town, so this weekend was bad for him - but what's going on on Canada Day? Yeah, no.
Behinder and I have chatted a bit since the big fallout the other day, but nothing has been resolved. We even ran into each other on the street the next day; for some reason I'd chosen to get all dolled up before leaving the house, so as soon as he spotted me, he plastered a shit-eating grin all over his face. Still, I have to wonder about a man who extolls my virtues and amazingness, knows I've wanted him by my side for almost two years, yet pulls a little emo side story as an excuse why he can't date me anymore, and finds the fastest, quickest gal to casually start dating. *sigh*
So that's the sad state of my dating life right now: no dates with which to speak of. Just weird coincidences and behavior from a bunch of motley fools.
Must-Read Dating Blog
Honestly. Sexagenarian and the City is incredible. A recent post,
If he doesn't love me that absolutely, or (okay, let's be honest here) doesn't show signs of being about to become the kind of person who wants to be the first in the emergency room with me when I'm full of tubes and needles, when my life or death is visible in little green zig-zaggy lines and audible in beeps, when my face can barely be seen under the sheets and the masks, when the nurse checks every few minutes to write things down on the clipboard - then I don't know if I can find within myself the emotional energy to do the things to his penis that give him such exquisite pleasure.
Although I may be a bit more torn about the reasons why I enjoy sex (I quite like being in a position of power that allows me to pleasure a lovely penis), I agree that this feeling she's describing is a familiar one to me. Why can't we, as empowered, sexual women, have it all?
Addicted to Chat
I've realized the past few nights that I don't really have much of a social life; most of my 'social' time is spent chatting with potential dates and/or friends online. So when everyone - very suddenly! - becomes unavailable to chat, I get a bit antsy. Not that I don't have a bajillion other things to do with my time. But I think perhaps I am addicted to chat.
And what isn't there to like? If a particular chat buddy is in any way literate, the instant gratification is hard to beat. Sure, online its pretty much impossible to create that heady chemistry that makes you swim with desire, but it can get pretty damn close. Ok, so the Ex from Hell was able to do it with me, but that relationship wasn't the healthiest of passions.
So when, two nights in a row, I found myself sans chat buddy, I felt a bit empty and unsure of what to do with myself. Yes I have a stack of fascinating books I've been meaning to devour, and I could quite easily play an hour or two of Final Fantasy 8, my new obsession. But I want to feel attractive, desired and intelligent right NOW! At midnight on a weeknight.
Usually Goblin and I feed our compulsive chat addictions nightly with either a debate about the merits and drawbacks of jumping the Behinder or a circular argument about why him and I aren't dating each other (answer: because I'm still stuck on the Behinder, obviously, and I know Goblin too well to put him in the potential rebound position).
Then there is the Farmer, where up until two days ago we'd been chatting for hours every morning and night about taboo topics such as ex's, diseases of the colon, friends with benefits, and the acceptability of being a carnivore. I've never even met the guy and I realize I miss our unpredictable sittings.
Of course there is the Behinder, with whom I usually shoot the shit with at least once a day depending on his work schedule. Yes, yes. We live mere meters from one another. And when we see each other, invariably one of us has a book or game to share with the other; me some literary smut like Nancy Friday's My Secret Garden, and him Warren Ellis' Transmetropolitan. Behinder however is out of town visiting friends for six days, and although he's occasionally been online, I've chosen the route of space-giver due to our last conversation (And You Say Women Are Confusing?), as well as the fact that I have a sneaky suspicion that part of his visit is to meet up with one of the gals he left me for eight or so months ago. Still, as my sister informed and reminded me just yesterday, I love the guy. Truly, completely, unconditionally - and its obvious. I'm missing him more than the rest combined.
There's also an ex-gf who I'll just refer to as S; we talk once in a while late-night too, but she's now a single mom with a 2-year-old, so I don't see her online as often as I used to. S always gives me perspective while openly sharing her affection for me . S is great for the ego - and yet another reason why I'm so addicted to chat.
I think I'll take a chat break this weekend. More hiking, less computer. Yeah.
Emotionally Distant Men
Alright. I've dated my fair share. Behinder is probably the worst of the bunch, although he was the opposite when I first met him. *sigh* Anyone getting tired of my moping about this guy yet?
So anyway... when I was looking for reprint permission for the quote from yesterday about men not wanting what they have (Just What I Needed To Hear), I found another Q&A from Christian Carter about emotionally distant men.
Hm. I don't think I gave this guy enough credit the first time around. Here's the Q&A, also in its entirety; I'll comment further in another post later on today when I have a chance.
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Just What I Needed To Hear
I've read Christian Carter's "Catch Him and Keep Him". It was an interesting, if rambling read. Nothing really new in the eBook, and if he'd presented the information in a more logical manner, I probably would be extolling more of its virtues right now. But as it stands , it felt like the author was just trying to create more white space and/or increase the length of the eBook.
I mean really now. Do we need a paragraph break after EVERY SINGLE SENTENCE?
I think not.
So I usually ignore emails from Christian Carter or articles written by him. But for some reason, I read his piece in Date.com's newsletter today about winning a guy back. One line in particular, I swear, was written just for little ole me:
If a man doesn't know what he wants, he generally doesn't want what he's got.
Succinct, to the point, and a bit too close to home. Could this be my answer to the million dollar question: Its Not You. Its Me?
Its Not You. It’s Me.
I've noticed a theme in the past couple of years in my dating life. I meet someone, its intense and lovely, and things are humming along nicely for a month or two. Then I'm suddenly sideswiped by The Talk: he's met someone else and its already in full swing. When I ask what happened between us, I'm given a similar answer by each: something is missing. I don't know what it is. Sorry I hurt you. You deserve better.
Sometimes these betrayals have stung longer than they should have, but most I just look back at with gratitude. Meaning: I'm very thankful that I found out early on what kind of men they were. And frankly, of the men who intimated something was missing, only one touched my heart.
But this theme makes me wonder. Is saying, "It's not you, it's me?" just a cop-out now? Does it really mean diddly squat? Is it just the easy way out? Or is there sort of dating deal breaker I'm sporting that only becomes readily apparent around the six week mark? One that is so elusive and/or fear-inducing, that it instills an immediate cease and desist.
Finally!
No, I'm not dating the guy I've been yapping about for weeks. This is better! Finally - FINALLY - a smarty-pants man has listened to women and their rants about what is wrong with dating today, and blogged about it. Marc F., resident blogger over at the Diary of a Disillusioned Dater, blew up (deservedly) at all the guys out there who "screw my shit up". Meaning, the jackasses that trample over women for their own personal gain, making it harder for the real men out there who actually want to date. Because let's face it: most single women by the time they hit 30 are nursing at least one serious love wound, and I don't hear about nice guys inflicting that kind of lingering damage.
I've never heard of Marc before. I found his link in a forum I read once in a while, and thought the blog name sounded intriguing. As I read further and further into his diatribe however, I was left mumbling to myself, "Finally!" or nodding my head in agreement. Yes sir, you've pretty much pegged every smarmy thing a guy can do to a single woman looking, and did so with the disgust and language the behavior deserves. Brava!
My Tarot Card Love Forecast
Once in a while I like to read my own tarot cards. I picked up a deck a number of years ago, and when I feel the urge, I sit down and do a reading. Last night I read my cards for the first time in months.
I used a new four-card spread that I've never used before, found in a tarot card reading book. Its basic intent is to read the situation, obstacle, action recommended and outcome of a specific situation. I thought it would be interesting to do a reading about the guy I'm still in love with (according to my friends). What the hell, right?
I should add that every single piece of advice I've been given on the subject - both from friends and random blog commenters - has been to be direct with the guy. Let him know how I feel. Take the reigns and stop living in wait. Which I know is what I need to do, but I'm a gutless coward about these kinds of things. Whatever happened to men pursuing? Well with this guy, I've always known I'd have to be the pursuer. It's just the way he's wired.
So I wasn't shocked when my first card (situation) told me that I either needed to, or was meditating about a problem. I wasn't acting, I was thinking, and it was the right course of action. Take some time to rest and relax, contemplate and meditate. Spend some time alone and don't make any decisions.
Yup, that's pretty much what I've been doing.
My next card (obstacle) told me - literally - to stop worrying, and that everything was great. I have a bright future ahead of me. Think positively.
I was a bit stunned after that card.
The next card (action required) blew me away. I'll just quote exactly what is written on the card. "Be bold. Unleash your adventurous side! Take risks and be daring."
I ended the reading (outcome) with a card that said by following the tarot card's guidance, I would be unleashing my inner goddess.
If that isn't a smack in the arse, I don't know what is.
The Behinder (so named by a friend because he lives behind me) and I have tentative plans this weekend to watch a movie at my place.
Still In Love With Him
Earlier today, a friend of mine commented, "Oooooh. You're still IN LOVE with him! Now I get it..."
I was mortified.
Ten minutes later, after making myself seem like even more the fool by trying to explain that I'd never quite fallen in love with him in the first place... I gave up.
Yes. I still have feelings for the guy. Yes. I'd love to date him again/for real. Yes, our first date was my favorite date of all time. Yes, I blog about the dude (what seems like constantly). But no, I'm not obsessed with him, and no, I'm not still in love with him.
I'd like to say I am. It would probably make things a bit easier, and my friends might be a bit more understanding. But I only knew the guy a couple of weeks before we had to part ways initially, and although we've kept in touch and now live eerily close to one another, I'm pretty sure I've screwed up any chance in hell that we'll ever date again.
So I'm trying to date other people - or at the very least MEET other people. It's not going as well as I'd hoped, and I'm finding this town a bit more challenging with its number of eligible bachelors. As in, there aren't a lot. Statistically. I haven't given up. Yet.
But I should be able to mention the gent's name without my friends catcalling silly little songs, right? (A and B, sitting in a tree, K I S S I N G...) Right? Or am I just too damn sensitive for my own good?
I really wish I hadn't screwed things up. Perhaps I'll blog about it... how royally I goofed... maybe someone will have a solution. Maybe I didn't goof up as badly as I'd thought, and he's thinking the same damn thing.
Jeezus! Listen to me. I sound like a 14-yr-old schoolgirl with a crush, not a 30-something woman who knows damn well there were genuine feelings on both sides - at one point.
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