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...

Girly

I am not a girly girl.

As a teenager, I routinely got mistaken for a boy. Actually, that happened well into my twenties. I grew my hair and nails long so people would have visual cues, then I got fat and grew breasts, rendering all that a moot point anyways. I wear jeans and tank tops. I shop for shirts and shoes in the men's section out of necessity - I am an attractive girl, but not a little girl, and size 11 ladies' shoes are hard to come by. I do not spend huge amounts on clothing. I could care less about fashion. Motor oil does not wash out of $150 jeans any better than $40 ones. Being feminine just isn't practical.

T appears to be turning me into a girl. A girly girl.

I own makeup, for the three or four occasions a year I have to wear it. For some reason, I had the impulse to wear some a couple of nights ago. T had never seen me wearing makeup before. T was extremely vocal about how impressed he was. He said he does not generally like girls wearing makeup, and prefers the natural look (thankfully), but thought I looked phenomenal (huh?).

Likewise, I have a pair of super-comfy capri pants. I wear them when I am doing housework. T thought they were fantastic. Said so several times. Grabbed me and pulled me down on top of him on the couch to demonstrate how great he thought they looked. When we went out for dinner later that evening, I wore them out, with a pair of high-heeled sandals. T couldn't stop looking at my ass, and said so.

I went shopping yesterday. Now, shopping is not unheard of in my world; I am always happy to go to Home Hardware and pick up a few new tools. However, I went shopping for makeup and clothing. Pretty stuff. Capris. High heels. Mascara and lip gloss.

My fashionista sister is going to love this guy. Everyone else is going to wonder what the hell he's done to me. Including, possibly, me.

The things we do for love...

Another week.

Well, it has been another week of T, and although I have to admit he slides admirably easily into my life and routines, I am not sure where he fits in my head.

T. has never heard of half the music I listen to. He is forever saying "Who is this? I think I like them". Another common one is "What does that word mean? How do you spell it? I think it might be a [Scrabble] bingo". He certainly appreciates my intelligence. He is very respectful of my privacy and my space. But he is in it.

I spent seven years building up my home, full of MY things, done up the way I like it, and only allowing a very few good friends in. Apparently I have done the same with my head. Every now and then, I realise...omg, this guy is creeping in. My instinct is immediately to push him away, keep him at arm's distance. I love and hate that I can just call him anytime I want a hug and he'll be here in half an hour. Mind you, he is pretty much always here anyway, doing dishes after dinner or bringing me coffee in the morning. Good things that are a little disturbing because of their intimacy.

I went for drinks with Moonbeam last night, specifically to tell him about T, just in case. Moonbeam swears he just wants a friendship, which is perfect. He felt he should enlighten me about the inside of the male mind, however, and warned me that the L-word will likely get tossed into play in about 6 weeks. Given the situation, I wonder if it will take T that long, and hope he can/will hold back on that one. T is already routinely telling me how lucky and thankful he feels for having met me. He asks if I am always this nice, tells me I am beautiful. He is rather demonstrative, verbally and physically, which again is something of a mixed blessing. I do enjoy it, but...But.

I declared last night a night off again. I am thinking of doing the same tonight. T has spent the last several years alone, but I don't believe it was by choice. I guess I haven't been especially alone, but I have carefully arranged my life so that no-one, especially no man, can interfere with my freedom and independence and comfort. It is disturbing to realise I have cooked proper dinners every night for close to two weeks. I usually eat leftovers or a bowl of oatmeal.

Poor T may be getting a neurotic basketcase that he hadn't bargained on...but I am still doing my best not to shoot myself in the foot...

Onions

Every time I write Beavis off as a hopeless cause, he suprises me. I am not certain whether this is a good thing or another way for me to string myself along in hopeless relationships.

This time, there were a couple of things.

One: He really is acting like a gentleman. He always has, but it is easy to overlook, because he can be awfully rough around the edges at times. However, in terms of not pushing issues, not testing my boundaries, not questioning my choices...yeah.

Two: He respects the fact that I have a life. A girlfriend had a terrible week, and needed to just hang out. He offered to make himself scarce so that I could spend time with my friend. Again, the rough edges make it easy to overlook how thoughtful he can be.

Sometimes, it's like peeling back layers on an onion.

However, I really question whether I can cope with a relationship with someone as non-verbal as Beavis tends to be. He can get his point across, but he's not much for long discussions. As in, conversations of more than, say, twenty words...

And no, he most certainly didn't sleep in the truck...but he waited for my invitation. And that impressed me. A lot.

Taking It As It Comes.

I am a bit of a control freak. I like to know what is going on, how things are going to happen, and what the plan is. I am obsessive about knowing what is coming next. I like to be the boss, and I want things to happen on my schedule.

This is a poor attitude for dating.

I am forever questioning the motives of my date, second-guessing him, and obsessively deconstructing the evening in the car on the drive home. I am out of my element when dealing with the unpredictable quirks of other people's emotions and expectations while also trying to cope with the quirks of MY emotions and expectations.

This results in all sorts of quirky situations and miscommunications. For instance, with Beavis, it meant forcing the issue with sex after a couple of months, because I wanted to know if we were a good match in bed, wanted to know if he found me attractive that way, and was really, really horny. Not that he didn't want to have sex with me, but he wanted to take it slow, and me forcing the issue added a lot of confusion to his world. Like, we didn't talk for two months.

I am trying to learn to take things as they come. Moonbeam and I went for a nice supper tonight, and spent four hours chatting about 'stuff'. Stuff that included a lot of questions/comments about relationships, expectations, likes/dislikes, etcetera. I have no idea if he is wanting to date me, or just talking about random stuff trying to make friends. I am working VERY HARD not to 'interpret' anything, and just see what happens.

Likewise, with Beavis coming up tomorrow, I will try to just relax and let things unfold as they will.

This is difficult.

I want to learn, because I suspect (though I have absolutely no proof) that it might result in a more...respectful...relationship in the end, however that relationship might be defined. I suspect that my habit of taking the lead and stepping things up a notch is intimidating to men. I am certain that I have missed out on all sorts of fun courting rituals, simply because I didn't have the patience to enjoy the courting. I gotta tell ya, though, patience is NOT my forte...

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...

Courting

Mr UK remains incredibly disappointed that I won't let him fly me back over. We had a loooonnggg discussion about the nature of love, and the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. I mean, no-one doubts he and I love each other, deep down. But we're not in love. I told him that my biggest problem with the whole idea is that I am not even a little bit in love with him, and it feels cold-hearted to let him jet me around when there's no butterflies-in-stomach on either end.

I don't know if he realises it, but he's basically been courting me ever since that conversation.

I love it.

He sends me a zillion emails a day at work. Cute, short, 'just thinking of you' type notes.

He sent a little gift by mail, with a hand-written letter.

He calls every few nights, and we chat about nothing for hours.

We reminisce. We debate. We talk dirty. We laugh.

I worry that he is falling in love, a little bit. He's mentioned that he has reconsidered his statement that we would never work out as a couple (distance aside, of course). Honestly, after four or five sleep-deprived phone marathons, I am questioning that statement, myself. However, neither of us is prepared to move.

I worry that i might actually be falling a little bit myself.

He is threatening to come visit at the end of April. He can't really afford it right now, and doesn't really have the time off. I half-heartedly try to talk him out of it, but I'd love to see him again...

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.

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.

Pride.

My buddy Rockhead called tonight. We have been pals since forever. Platonic friends; he's one of the few men who has never, ever hit on me. Even when we went down to Mexico and got really drunk together. He's a geologist, and loves to argue politics.

He asked me what was new in my life. Sadly, I didn't have much to report...even my date for tonight backed out. Rockhead said he just got back from another Mexico trip, and asked me how my trip to London had gone, so I told him all about the incredible time I'd had. I mentioned that Mr UK had offered to fly me back again, but that it felt like too big a hit to my pride. Rockhead said: "pride doesn't buy you any plane tickets." Bastard. I hate it when people point things out so succinctly.



******Next day edit*******

I shoulda known better than to go looking for Rockhead's sympathy on this one. He flew me to Mexico last fall, and paid for the hotel and such. He's done that for several people, though, and says we can pay him back whenever. He really doesn't seem to care if any of us ever get him the actual cash. He says he doesn't want to waste his timeshare weeks, but he doesn't like going alone. I still owe him a bundle. It's quite a bit different, though; I WILL pay him back, eventually, and he will let me. I am not singled out for the special treatment, and I completely understand why Rockhead would do that. His motives are crystal clear.

Of course, Mr UK phoned not ten minutes after Rockhead and I hung up. It was 3am his time, but he said he was thinking of me. He "just called to say goodnight".

**melt**

He is such a sweetie.

It wound up being a long, interesting, and strangely intimate conversation about our history, the nature of our relationship, and the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. I had sort of been trying to keep all that emotional stuff out of things, but you know, maybe that's part of why I don't want to accept his gifts anymore. It just seems cheap and manipulative to accept such lavish gifts when there's no emotional connection. I know it is silly, but it feels different if there's love involved...

Airplanes and Hair Dye

Well, hell flight knocked a round out of me, as usual. The cold didn't help.

I'm happy to be home.

Tired to the point of hallucinating, but glad I went.

Mr. UK left me a sweet parting memory. I've been talking for ages about dying my hair, but I have always been too chicken. What if I don't like it? Well, I decided to go ahead and try. Mr. UK sat in the bathroom with me, reading out the instructions while I gobbed the gunk into my hair. Eventually, he decided I was missing too many spots, and got involved. There's something strangely intimate about having a guy wash your hair, or, in this case, work the dye in, then wash it out. It led to a great deal of less-mentionable activity, which is also good. I do double-takes when I see myself in the mirror...doesn't quite look like me, and it will probably remind me of him for quite awhile.

I went to London with 'cheap and dirty' in my head, and wound up with sweet and romantic. Mr. UK was wonderful. I am suprisingly unemotional about the whole thing, though. I am terrible at seperating sex and love, but for once, I just feel like a had a great week with a good friend, and really nothing more. No yearning to be with him, no wishing for the phone call. Just...content.

Ask me again in a week when I'm unbearably horny, though, and I might have a different opinion...