Attraction

There is this guy at work. Let's call him D. D is hilarious, and easy on the eyes. Not much taller than me, but dark-complexioned and always laughing at some dark joke. Educated. Intelligent. Cynical. Mmm, yeah.

Several of my colleagues have commented that they think he's attracted to me. I think so, too...his gaze lingers just a little too long. He always seems to find a reason to come to my department, though he works elsewhere. You know.

I have to admit, I am attracted back.

D invited T and I out to the bar last week. T hates bars, and tried to convince me to go alone. I did the right thing, and decided to stay in. I am not a cheater, and 'cheating' doesn't happen by accident, but a night of drinking and dancing just didn't seem like the right thing to do. It seemed more like an accident waiting to happen. Not that I said as much to T, but it felt like the only choice to make.


Yesterday, I had a home inspection. T was at work.

The inspector, G., was tall, well over 6 feet, and had M's auburn coloring, dark earnest eyes, and freckles. He smelled distractingly delicious. He spoke in a quiet, reassuring tone, sounding competent and calm and confident without coming off as cocky. He laughed big, though, deep and hearty.

G had long freckled fingers not sporting any rings. He was patient with my million questions, and my tagging along, poking around at furnace vents and wall outlets. He explained what he was doing and why, without being condescending. I followed him up the ladder and into the attic, and down under the crawlspace. That ass going up the ladder was...well, let's just say it was a hell of a view.

There were places where I had to be right in G's space in order to see the things he was pointing out. The air crackled, and it was hard to pay attention to the plumbing with his cologne and low voice. When a strong arm reached over, brushing my shoulder to point to the wiring...well, it wouldn't take much imagination to go from there to a cheap Harlequin story. In fact, my imagination had no trouble with that, at all.

I am not sure I have ever become 'not single' in my head. I did the right thing not going out with D, and refrained from asking G any personal questions, like did he have a girlfriend, or what was he doing later that night. I had to work at it, though. I keep hoping that at some point, I will be so madly in love that I stop noticing anyone else, but it hasn't happened yet...

Sex and other random things

I have been saying for awhile now (though never in earshot of another boy) that the sex with M was probably the best I was ever going to get. I am thinking of revising that statement. Technically, sure. He had a knack for doing just the right thing for the moment. But, you know, he didn't want to be with me, didn't want any future. Sure, we cared about each other, but it was in a rather...restrained way.

T isn't the most experienced guy. He says he's not fussed about it, as long as it doesn't bother me. Nah. Less bad training to try to undo.

T wants to be with me. T wants a future. T is a quick learner.

Mmmm...yeah...



Last night, I was out at a meeting until past my usual bedtime. T was sleeping when I got home, and I crawled into bed, but couldn't get to sleep myself. I got up again, not wanting to wake him with my tossing and turning. I kept having all these thoughts about T, the pair of us, and life in general. So I wrote him a note, and leaned it up against the coffee pot where I knew he would find it in the morning. I was trying not to get too sappy - T is still nervous about 'mushy stuff', but I don't know how well I succeeded. He seemed happy enough - he woke me with a big kiss and a 'thank you for the note'. I really like it when he smiles at me like that...

Disclosure

T is an honest sort of guy. He doesn't seem to mind discussing any topic, now that the shyness has passed. I admire that.

There are parts of my history that, while I am not ashamed of, I can't say I am itching to share with a prospective long-term partner. Who I am still in the stage of wanting to impress.

T has shared some lass-than-savory details of his past, and although I am not going to end things over this, it does make me stop and think.

Then, I read this. It made me think (thank you, T-shirt, for making me think, again). I decided that I didn't want to have to worry about T finding my blog, or finding out about my history from someone else.

So, this morning, over coffee, I told T about Mr UK and M. Not all the details, of course, but enough. I told him that although I don't really intend to have any contact with M, Mr UK remains a good friend, and will still be part of my life. That Mr UK may be staying here, at my house, in June. That T is welcome to be here for the whole time, if it makes him more comfortable with the situation. Of course, Mr UK doesn't even know about T yet - that's a project for this weekend.

I don't know why I was worried. Moonbeam was quite prepared to distance himself from me, in order to make sure T didn't get jealous...thoughtful of Moonbeam, but the idea disturbed me. When I mentioned that conversation to T, he was apalled. He told me in no uncertain terms that I should not be losing friends over this relationship.

Right answer.

He did it again this morning. He said that he felt I was interested enough that he wasn't worried. I told him that a person can say they won't cheat as many times as they want, but it means nothing without the behavior to back it up. T said he believed me. Said he wasn't at all concerned. I could have kissed him. In fact, I did. Several times. What a relief.

Erasure

Over the weekend, M. sent a cryptic e-mail stating he was withdrawing his offer of a flight to Vancouver. I haven't talked to him since, except to email a reply of "yeah, no worries". I have no idea what the "change in circumstances" consists of, though I can make an educated guess.

I am certain M has a girlfriend.

Now, I do not, and have never had any right to get upset over this. To be honest, I'm not all that upset, though I AM disappointed that I won't get a free flight to visit my sister. Mostly, I feel resigned. It was inevitable, and I have known that for ages.

I went down to the post office on Tuesday, bought a little bubble-pack envelope, and mailed him his housekey back. No note - there's nothing much else to say.

I took the wicked photo of the two of us down from 'the gallery' on my wall. I don't want to look at him anymore.

I removed him from my hotmail 'favorites' list. I don't want to have his name hanging around in plain sight.

I am considering changing my phone number. I have already erased his from my address book.

If he is not going to be in my life, then he needs to be all the way out of it. I want it to look as though he never existed. As though 'we' never existed. I do not want to see photos of us kissing. I do not want to be reminded of him at all. I do not want to see him or hear from him or really to even have to think about him anymore.

This is beyond closure...this is erasure.

Dysfunction Break

They say bad luck comes in threes. I should be okay for awhile, now, as I have had my three bad man news items this weekend:

1) Beavis (see last post)

2) M. appears to have found himself a girlfriend. This is purely an assumption on my part, based on the fact that he withdrew his offer of a free flight to see my sis, but I can't think of any other reason.

3) Mr UK can't get holidays to come visit until June, when his annual vacation with his family is booked. His family hates me for long, complicated historical reasons, so I don't imagine I will be seeing him much, if at all.

None of these things is all that bad alone, and I have to admit I was half-expecting each of them, but not all at once. Suddenly, I find I am all alone, which might be a necessary break, anyway. It will certainly cut the frustration level in my world, anyhow.

But dammit, it's hard to feel loveable and attractive when you get ditched three times in the same weekend...

Three (not so wise) Men

M. sent a one word email yesterday. it said:

"regrets?"

hmmm. Not really. I got what I expected: a place to sleep while I was doing other things, and some meaningless sex. It didn't come as a surprise. I haven't mailed his key back, yet, but I'm thinking about it.

Beavis phoned. He wants to come up this weekend, and spend the night. I asked him, straight up:

"So, where, exactly, are you planning on sleeping?"

He didn't miss a beat when he replied: "in my truck". As long as we're all on the same page, I suppose. I'm glad he doesn't have any expectations.

Mr UK called. He didn't have anything in particular to say, except that it was a boring day at work without me sending him notes (I was on training). He just wanted to say goodnight. Wish I coulda been there to tuck him in and give him a kiss...

yeah, i know, i know...

"...so, if life were a video game, and you could reset when things went bad, what would you try?"

"Hmmm. I'd want to test-drive the stuff that I'd be really afraid of screwing up. Maybe some of the career options I vetoed in University...photography, history...maybe motherhood...What would you try?"

"I'd test-drive us"

"..."

"..."

"See you tomorrow..."


*****End of Weekend Edit********

Well, THAT was fun. It's awfully hard to regret doing something that leaves me feeling so sated and relaxed. AND I managed to get together with two girlfriends I really wanted to see, and do some home-hunting for when I put in a transfer application...a productive weekend all around...

Backbone Update.

Well, I was reading comments on a recent post, and I felt like I had more to say on the topic.

You know, I think the reaction I have when M contacts me is just...habit. An ingrained reaction. It just goes through my mind every time, but, on the other hand, it goes through my mind, then goes away.

Sure, a part of me would still like to be with him. No denying that. I can't figure out why I haven't shut that door entirely - usually when I break up with someone, or they break up with me, then it's over. Just done, over with, and time to move on.

Even with Mr Wonderful, who I didn't want to leave (but felt I had to), I told him he had a few months to get his act together, or I would move on. When the time passed with no action on his part, I went back to meet him the place we had shared for the requisite bitter-sweet goodbye sex on the floor of our empty bedroom before he handed in the keys, and that was that. Finis. Done. Never to be revisited.

M is...different. I've never really been in love with him. Oh, I love him, in a way, but I've never felt that sparkly, butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling. I know it could happen, like a word that's on the tip of your tongue, but it hasn't. It can't. He has such thick walls built up; they put me off, push me away, and I have never really been able to let my own guard down enough to just...feel.

We spoke for a few hours yesterday. He mostly respected the boundaries I have set, avoided talking about 'us', though he dropped a hint or two about having thought a lot about his commitment issues. I chalk that up to him not really wanting to let go, either. We didn't explore it. I have to admit, I am curious as hell, but if we have that talk, it will be when I am in a headspace to do so. He doesn't get to set the agenda anymore. I am fairly certain that the outcome of that conversation will be the usual conclusion that nothing has changed.

So we spoke for hours yesterday, and I feel...nothing, really. Not especially happy or sad, just kind of...indifferent. No real urge to go see him, though a part of me wants to go back and revisit the bits of the conversation that we avoided. Like I said, I'm curious, and right at the moment, he doesn't seem to affect me much, so the timing would be right. On the other hand, maybe it will hurt, feel manipulative, make me angry, and I can finally just say "enough".

Someday, I will pack up his housekey and all the baggage, mail it back to him, and just...walk away. Finally.

What's With The Sugar Daddies?

So, M sent an email. This is not terribly unusual. Infrequent, but not unusual. This one was about a mutual friend who I had lost track of, with a comment that she might not be doing so well, but no details. These are the sorts of things that drive me to pick up the phone.

So, I called.

Yeah, I know, I'm a sucker.

In the course of the conversation, asked how much time off I could get from work on short notice.

Huh?

Well, turns out his company is flying him to The Coast for training. Depending on how long the course goes, they will pay to either fly him home for a visit, or pay for someone to fly out and visit him. My sister lives on The Coast. He said:

"Now, this isn't a booty call or anything, but I thought you might like to take a free flight to see your sis, and you don't have to stay with me, or even see me, if you don't want to."

Damn. That's hard to pass up. And thoughtful. Damn. Double Damn.

I told him to call back when he gets the details...

Where Did My Backbone Go?

I have all the motivation in the world to stay as far from M. as humanly possible. I tell myself this every time he calls or emails, or even when a song on the radio remainds me of him. I remind myself that as great as he is, being around him always hurts, eventually. It's always great for a few months, then the big letdown when he reminds me 'this is not long-term' or 'we don't want the same things'. And it hurts more every time we go through this.

Why is this a battle?

Why does he have to be so FUCKING sweet?

Why can't he just grow up and realise that commitment does not mean the end of the world?

Why can't he recognise how wonderful I am?



Why do I email back?

Why am I considering going for a drive?

What am I going to do if I move to his city?


Damn.

Ancient History #3 - Sunshine on your Face

M. and I had discussed anal sex on several occasions. He wanted to try, just to see what it was like. My reply was that, in general, I thought it should feel good, since a gentle finger up my ass at the right moment was enough to send me over the edge. But, when I had actually tried anal sex, it had HURT LIKE HELL. I told him we could try, but I was pretty dubious about the whole idea. He never pushed it, though.

We went out for a nice Vietnamese dinner one Friday night, then came home, watched a movie in bed, and got it on. It was one of those not-quickie-but-not-all-night sessions, the sort of sex you have when you know someone really well, and can both get off pretty quickly, then get on to the snuggling-and-reviewing-your-week part.

After, we laid in bed, spooning, and discussing our respective weeks. I don't know what we were talking about, but something got his attention, and I realised he was poking me again. I rocked my hips a little, pushing back against him. We were just kind of messing around, but his cock was rubbing against my ass, and it felt good.

Wouldn't you know it, but he just slid in, no pain or anything. It felt great, and I told him not to stop. He didn't.

Well, I have to admit, Vietnamese gives me gas. A few minutes after we finished, I got that urgent feeling, like "uh-oh".

I ran to the toilet, sat down, and farted. Sort of. I mean, farts are just gas, right? This one was...drippy. Disgusting, really. He could hear it from the bedroom, and was laughing his ass off.

The next morning, M was up first. He noticed that the coffee pot hadn't been turned off from the night before. He blamed me.

I told him there was no way it was my fault.

I told him I was perfect, and would never forget to turn off the coffee pot.

I told him I had a halo and farted sunshine.

He looked at me and burst out laughing. "Is THAT what you call it?" he giggled. "Sure gives a whole new meaning to 'sunshine on your face'..."

Damn the past

Well, today's POF date, K., was...meh.

He was polite enough, funny enough, and the conversation flowed pretty well, for a couple of strangers. He was decent looking. I don't have anything specifically bad to say about him. I'd probably go out with him again. No real urge to make an effort to make that happen, though.

I think I have been spoiled by the men in my past. Three, in particular.

Mr. Wonderful is ancient, ancient history. We were together for 6 years, and lived together for 5. We've been broken up longer than we were together, but I am still searching for someone who will treat me as well as he did. He was absolutely devoted, but in a way that left me space to grow. He never failed to make me laugh, and brought me flowers for no reason. He bragged to his friends about how smart I was, and still sends my mother birthday cards, all these years later.

Mr UK is really only salient because he just spent a week spoiling me rotten, and reminding me how nice it is to be around a gentleman. Someone with a little culture. And have intellectual discussions. And no-holds-barred honesty.

M is haunting me right now. When I got in from the date with K, all I wanted was to be in M's arms. In fact, I phoned him, intending to invite him down to Ruralville for a 'visit', but he was busy, and I never got the words out. I'll probably be grateful for that in a week or so, but...Dammit.

I don't want to be pissing around with this dating crap. I want to skip the akwardness of meeting someone and getting to know them. I want to go directly to the part where you can just be in the same room, doing whatever, but not having to talk. The part where you know each other so well, you can predict what he'll do or say. The part where he makes your coffee with the right amount of cream and sugar, without having to ask. I want the comfort and trust and unspoken support.

Unfortunately, that takes years.

I'm not very patient.

Moth to a flame...

This cold is killing me. Quite literally, I'm afraid. I've been coughing till I throw up the last three days. I can't even focus my eyes to read, let alone post, which sucks, as I am totally bored with being sick.

Of course, as I haven't had the energy to drag my butt off the couch, I haven't been doing much on the dating front. In fact, I've been thinking about getting some adult diapers so that I don't have to bother dragging my sorry butt to the toilet, but that'd mean going all the way to the store. As you might guess, my overall motivation for anything much beyond breathing is pretty minimal.

I did call M last night, though.

I don't know if it's a mistake to stay in contact, but I can't seem to stop myself. Going to London set off a small existential crisis for me...I realised how dissatisfied I am with my current career and locale. Mr UK brought it up a couple times while I was there, and I hate to admit it, but he's right: I'm unhappy here. I was not happy living in London, either, but London had some huge advantages. For instance, here in Ruralville, 'culture' consists of the Classic Car Show in June and Rodeo Week in August. 'Painting' is what you do to the barn. Big conversational topics include trucks, fishing, and guns. "The Gallery" is where you go for target practice. Yeah, London was way cooler, that way...

As a feminist who fixes her own car and loves reading, Arab culture, and Dali, I am something of a freak here.

I spoken to Mom and a couple of girlfriends about this. Mom tends to go the 'whatever makes you happy, dear' route, which is not helpful when I'm looking for advice. My girlfriends are great, but sometimes live vicariously through me, which means they tend to advise me to do what would make them happy.

M. understands this stuff. He's one of the few who do. He knows when to shut up and listen, too, and just let me work things out for myself in conversation. And he knows me well enough to give a pertinent, considered opinion when I do get around to asking for it.

The conversation went suprisingly well. Relationship stuff didn't come up. We were talking about 'personal' stuff, but not personal stuff pertaining to "us". He listened, made all the appropriate noises during the appropriate conversational pauses, and generally acted like he cared. Without trying to talk me into bed. I actually felt better by the time I hung up the phone.

Unfortunately, if I were to move, my first choice of cities would be the one he lives in. Which adds sooo much potential for complication. I mean, we have a hard enough time staying away from each other when we live 200km apart. Imagine if we lived in the same neighbourhood?

Anyhow, it's all academic until I put in the transfer papers, and I'm going to consider this one for awhile before making any drastic moves.

Damn him for understanding me so well, though...

Who Not To Date #2

Who Not To Date #2

The Recidivist Commitment Phobe

(especially 2 years and 9 months after the FIRST time he dumped you)

[uber-especially when he's actually a nice guy AND a great lay]

Okay, everyone's gotta get one of these ones at least once in their lives. But really, the ex-sex never ends...at first, you think it's just an interim solution to your inability to get laid by anyone new. Next thing you know, you wind up spending weekends at his place, him bringing you coffee in bed in the morning and offering to babysit your dog while you go for your annual vacation to Europe. Three months later, you realize you haven't bothered making a date with anyone else in over two months. You comment to him that you're basically dating again. He concurrs, then two weeks later, he dumps you...again. Six weeks after that, he invites you over for a little hanky-panky, 'no strings attached'...Three years later, you realize you've just wasted an awful lot of your life on 'just a great lay...'




My dog shit in the spare room today. I realized it's a sign.

She had an attack of the runs a few weeks ago, and lost bowel control in that room. Of course, I didn't punish her; it was a medical thing, an accident. I guess I didn't clean it up well enough, as today she had an 'accident' that couldn't possibly have been accidental, for the second time in five days, right in the same spot.

This relates how? Well, girls, M. basically just shit in my spare room. He's inviting me to go waste another few months of my time trying to convince him to get over his commitment problem. He's doing it because he got away with it before. I guess I didn't clean it up well enough the last time. So, I called him and told him, straight up: if you ever do that again, I will change my phone number. Get it unlisted. Make sure we never speak again. He says he wants to salvage a friendship from the ruins...I told him that if he ever wants to be friends, he has to act like a friend, and friends don't shit in my house...

Almost Perfect

M. phoned last night.

I cried.

M. is the reason I'm dating, and probably a big part of the reason I'm blogging. He is the reason I was able to spend a year backpacking in Europe and Africa last year. And the reason I happen to have developed a taste for blueberry fritters and chunky redheads.

M. is very nearly the perfect man.

He is soft-spoken and considerate, but not afraid to stand up for himself. He understands the way I think, and can often tell that something is bothering me before I even figure it out. M. can communicate. My dog loves him. He is hilarious. He's reliable, and has never failed to do exactly what he's said he was going to. He is gainfully employed and financially sensible. He is the only person I have ever been able to spend a week in a foriegn country with, without wanting to smack repeatedly. My girlfriends think he's great. He is respectful. He is one of five people I have ever cried in front of. We agree about religion, money, child-rearing, and values. He has never tried to restrict my independence. I trust him utterly. He is the most incredible lover I've ever had.

He also believes that a houseplant is more responsibility and commitment than he can handle.

We spent three years exploring it, and I have come to the conclusion that it will never change. As incredible as he is, I want more than eternal non-committal dating. I want kids. Or at least the option of kids.

He called to say he missed me, and to ask if I'd like to drive (two hours) to his town to hang out. The last time I saw him was November 20th, when I packed up the last of my stuff and moved here.

I have just finally gotten to the point where I don't automatically start dialing his number whenever I pick up the phone. I still miss him terribly. When I have a bad day, he's the first person I want to speak to.

We talked for five hours last night.

And, really, nothing's changed.

I didn't go for the drive.

I curled up in bed and bawled.

I sure am glad I'm going to London, but I'm pretty sad, today.