So, Monday after the sexcapades of Sunday, DD texts as I am getting dressed in the locker room of my gym:
"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for round 2. Last night was hot!"
1) thank you, sir.
2) yes it was.
3) holy hell, I am tired and I still can't feel parts of my wrist and I had to ice my nether bits this morning.
big smile on my face, I respond: "baby, i have to SLEEP!" as well as some mushy stuff so his ego isn't bruised.
Tuesday, my mother is convinced that there will be a tornado and terrible weather so I find myself having a slumber party with my sister, son and mother at her house for the evening.
DD sends some raunchy texts which I eagerly return and then wants to come over.
I have to let him down gently that I am slumbering in the same room that I did when I was a teenager.
Then, hilariously, Wednesday after a cardio kickboxing class, I receive a text that says:
"baby, I have tried to stay away, but I want...no, NEED, to ravish you tonight."
Well, hell, when you put it THAT way...
"come on over!"
Post-coital later that evening, he says with a smile "I was trying to stay away until tomorrow since I know we're spending so much time together this weekend."
I give him a look and recount that he wanted to come over both Monday and Tuesday after sexcapade Sunday.
He looks sheepish: "I guess I just can't get enough of you."
That's not such a bad problem, but I self-deprecatingly respond "give it time."
Either I've bewitched him or he's the kind of guy who jumps headlong and fast into lust and love. I don't trust people like that. They're the "blinded by love" folk that end up looking at you 6 months in and saying "I can't believe you always did THAT thing. It drives me crazy. You JUST started doing it" with regard to some fundamental personality trait that you can't fix, don't want to fix, and then you break up over.
People say I'm cagey about relationships, but I think it's just smart planning for the future. I don't LOVE any less in the long haul. I just get there with a great deal of caution, skepticism and side-eyes.
He invites me to go with him to a birthday bbq for his buddy that we went to the Royals game with, but I have agreed to work at the theatre that night for the education folks. I had planned to take my son with me, but when I mention this and offer to come to the BBQ when we're done, he says that won't work (he has his girls and needs to get them home around the time that I would be getting off. Then he says something that I think I must have heard wrong:
"How about if I come over after work and pick up [your son] and take him over to Joey's with me and the girls? Then I can bring him back after I drop off the girls."
I have to clarify that I haven't heard him wrong: "you want to take my child with you to spend time with WITHOUT me?"
He smiles in a way I'm becoming accustomed to. He's amused by me and thinks I'm young in this smile. I appreciate that he thinks I'm so youthful and that he doesn't talk down to me when he responds "I think it would be good for us to spend some quality time together without you around."
I frown seriously at him. "Stop trying to make me fall in love with you."
This cracks him up.
I'm a little bit serious though and begin to wonder if this is all a devious plot to win my affections more quickly. That's how jaded I am.
I feel a bit less jaded and a little more mushy the next night when he sends me pictures of all the kids playig outside while I am working backstage for the local high school tony awards.
I feel even more mushy when he arrives home after me carrying my sleeping child up the stairs. A sleeping child which I promptly put to sleep and who nods and smiles when I ask him if he had fun.
We're both exhausted this night, and we lay down and talk more and then fall asleep. No hanky panky - just some glowy family talk.
"This just feels different," he says at one point before we pass out. "I feel like you're someone I can build a life with."
I make a noncommittal sound in response, glow inwardly at the thought, and freak out in the next millisecond at the realization that I feel somewhat the same. Currently the only thing weirding me out about him is that nothing is weirding me out.
Friday rolls around with the promise of some adult fun - GAME NIGHT with my two best girls friends and their man friends. The girls have been waiting patiently for me to find a man for eons, so I am excited to host game-night, drop my kiddo off at his grandma's, and put DD up on the alter of friendship judgement.
Before that can happen though, DD comes to retrieve the laundry that I somehow allowed him to do on Wednesday night at my house (I gave him the stink eye about it and he said "I'm spending the next three nights here - when do you want me to do it?" at which point I stopped being a territorial asshole) right after I get off work.
I had planned my time Friday eve before everyone was coming over very carefully, and when DD texts about his clothes, I tell him when I'm going to be home with the thought that he'll be there right then and I can continue on to the grocery store, to drop off my kiddo and get ready for everyone. I'm an event planner by industry and it carries over to my life.
When DD shows up 30 minutes after I get home, and I've only accomplished some minor housecleaning, I internally command myself to be flexible, make-out for long enough to get worked up and then slap myself into go-mode.
"I've GOT to go," I say firmly.
"So..you just want me to go home and come back in 2.5 hours?" he asks.
This is the non-question question I am finding DD to be a master of. It's SO clear what he wants, but he's politely (passive-agressively?!) asking a question instead of just saying "you mind if I stay here while you do what you gotta do?"
I tell him he's welcome to join me as I run OR he can stay here and hang out. He says he'll shower and take a quick nap while I run.
I have the first "ugh, what a man" moment, but take off and carry about my business. When I get home from dropping off my son and picking up more food than 6 people could possibly eat in one evening, I see that DD has NOT showered, but it peacefully sleeping on my bed. I have anohter "ugh what a man" moment followed by a strange sense of possesivenes or happiness or something at the site of him sleeping in my bed. Almost like I wouldn't mind seeing it more often. I softly close the door on him and get to work on the food.
He wakes at some point, comes out to kiss me and then hops in the shower. I realize I have an empty house and a soapy man, but a time crunch. I hurry up cutting veggies. Somehoe, it's 7:15 when the food is done and DD is about to get dressed. I pounce, but he glances at the clock.
"I was trying to leave enough time to seduce you," I lament, realizing we don't have enough time to safely accomplish anything without risk of interruption even though I'm wearing a skirt and he's already in just a towel.
"Someone's a little horny, huh?" he says, getting that dark look all men get when they know they're wanted.
I nod, frustrated, and tromp into the kitchen to open a bottle of wine.
"And you have to leave by 9:30, right?" I confirm, knowing he has to pick up his girls at that time and has them for the WHOLE weekend, which means the likelihood of any sexy times is slim to none.
"Somewhere around there," he says, following me into the kitchen to hug me from behind.
I grumble at this. We have made plans to attend the Circus tomorrow evening with all the kids, go to church with all the kids Sunday morning, and I invited him (and the kids) to spend Memorial Day Monday with me and my family at my mom and dad's house for swimming and a cookout.
"All this time together and none of...that. That's going to lead to some major anticipation," I say, gulping down some wine in hopes of cooling my hormones.
"I thought about that. We may have to figure out something. Maybe we could all stay here tomorrow night?"
I have a 2 bedroom townhome. My son has a full-sized bed, but that still puts me a couple beds shy of a hotel...and with 3 sleeping kids within 20 feet. Dear old married couples with children, HOW DO YOU DO IT!? I am gaining leaps and bounds of appreciation for successful married couples with kids. Your life is no easy thing. We're so impressed upon to believe that that is the norm, the way your life is SUPPOSED to go, but your life is not easy, nuclear family heads. You definitely have to work at keeping the hot stuff hot in the face of family obligations, sleeping children, soccer games, and the like.
Before we can chat too much about a potential family slumber party, the first couple shows up and the evening is off.
We suck at Cranium and lose horribly, but DD keeps up with my friends in social banter. We're a bit of a motley crew, but he's pleasant, has shaved, and is wearing a nice pink button down in which he looks both tailored and manly at the same time. I enjoy my wine, the game (even as I lose) and the companionship...especially his as he sweetly reaches over to squeeze my knee or rub my back a few times. I believe in physical affection. Anybody can talk the talk, but you know you are liked - genuinely - when someone can't keep their hands off you.
I am pleasantly tipsy when DD has to leave, and actually glad for his absence so that I can come back upstairs after sending him off to get everyone's honest opinions.
I walk him downstairs, and change my tune slightly, the wine and sudden denial of any sexy times making my naturally MORE desirous.
We kiss and kiss some more. "I wish you didn't have to go," I say.
"Me too," he says, then kisses me some more. "Til tomorrow."
"Till tomorrow," I agree, finally pulling back and retreating to the hall.
I am in a slightly drunken haze of attraction as I float back upstairs.
"She is in la la land," my friend Jenny says upon my return and observance of my face.
"I LIKE him," I declare.
My friend Sarah's boyfriend - a veritable bar master - starts mixing up cocktails...POTENT cocktails...as we discuss DD. Everyone likes him so far. And, I quickly learn though the second round of cocktails, that both girls have totally spilled the beans on Sexcapade Sunday to their boyfriends. This leads to some questions and, somehow or other, I end up bringing out my infamous sex bag to illustrate visually the lovely dichotomy of DD's admirably family values and devious sexual values.
At some point - an 8-inch dildo ends up suction cupped to my fridge. It's just that kind of conversation. It's hilarious to watch the boys and girls react differently to the tale of attraction, dating and sexcapading. To my great surpise, when I end up outside with the two boyfriends, Jenny's boyfriend Kyle says "I just want to make sure you don't move to fast. You're moving really fast."
I know I'm moving fast...or rather, I have felt that HE is moving fast and I have been along for the ride so long as my comfort level has allowed it. Given my usual cold feet - which I point out to Kyle - this seems to bode well for the depth of our attraction.
"I've been in those kind of relationships. They go fast and then they fall apart."
This disheartens me until Mike, Sarah's boyfriend, who is of a general relationship cagey nature says "I think this is a good thing for you. I would tell you otherwise. I spent a lot of time having to make myself realize my issues were MY issues, and not take that out on Sarah."
"Sarah's GREAT," I exclaim, at which point I realize how drunk I am.
"She is great. She was always great. I just didn't trust it. But that was ME, not her. I'm not saying jump too fast, but I think this guy seems like the right kind of guy for you."
He goes on to say that his roommate, and my former boyfriend, was not.
"He is such a good guy though," I defend, protective, however, strangely, of my ex-boyfriend.
"He's a great guy. He just wasn't the right guy for YOU."
Somehow, the conversation veers to his other friend - hot lawyer - who I'm drunk enough to admit - vehemently - that I don't understand why we didn't make out.
"I thought you would!" Mike exclaims.
"Me too!" I say.
I have a major moment of regret - being of a relationship status that prevents the possibility of a solid make-out session with hot lawyer.
We get quiet - probably both realizing this. Or maybe he's quiet becuase I've admitted that I want to make-out with his buddy, in the same sentence that I exclaimed a state of intense "like" for the person I'm in a relationship with (and who I still can't quite get comfortable calling my "boyfriend")
"Maybe when you're attracted to someone, things just fall into place," I say later that evening to my friend Jenny.
"We weren't facebook offical for 7 months," she says of her boyfriend of 2 years. I was facebook official after 5 weeks.
"Well, we'll either be married in the next year or this will end horribly," I decide finally.
"I think those the options for any relationship," she returns, master of the obvious.
Whatever.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Guest Post # 1: Live From Sheboygan "Kodak Moment"
Welcome to Sheboygan, Wisconsin--population slowly inching to 51,000, tucked on the Lake Michigan shoreline just 50 miles north of Milwaukee. I moved here in the dead of winter to take a dream job, the job a million girls in my field would kill for. But it didn't take long for my new city--and I use the term generously--to confirm what I've long known: Sheboygan may be the Bratwurst Capital of the World, but my taste for such, figuratively speaking, is rather persnickety.
Sheboygan has no shortage of men, I assure you. 40% of the city's jobs are in manufacturing, so the male-to-female ratio is quite favorable. On a/an (insert your expletive of choice here) freezing night after being holed up and lonely in my apartment for just over a month, I reconnected with my old pal match.com. Now, back to that plethora of men and my persnickety taste. Yes. One quick search of the eligible bachelors in my area and I immediately expanded my geographic search to stretch 75 miles beyond my zip code.
Sigh.
Relief.
Search results left me...salivating.
I feel it's only fair that I preface these rendez-vous with this: I believe in match.com, full-heartedly. Truth be told, I'd probably be in a very committed relationship with a fella from match if I still lived in Kansas City. But 10 hours is far too far for me. And timing is everything. And I digress.
Bachelor #1 | 34 years old | Milwaukee, WI
Kodak Moment
(If you bust out with Ray-J's "Sexy Can I," I won't hold it against you. I'll even give you this link so you can listen as you read)
I took this kid's humor in our online banter hook, line, and sinker. His handle eluded to CEO aspirations, and of course I bit that one too...until he told me these plans included him giving all his money away. Damn those do-gooders. The manjewelry hanging from his neck took me back to the mid 90s, but I figured if this relationship had legs, that thing could easily walk itself to the trash, right? Apparently I wasn't the only one hypothesizing.
As I devoured my last slice of VPN pizza, I hear my date say, "Oh wow, that was a good one." I look up mid-chew, with sauce dribbled on my chin. He's grinning at his iPhone.
"What?" I ask.
He's still grinning, his eyes reflecting the glow from his phone. "This is great," he tells me.
"Please...please don't tell me that you just took my picture."
I'm horrified.
"--Why?" He still doesn't get it.
"Because it's creepy, that's why."
"...But...suppose this goes somewhere."
"What?"
"You know, suppose we start dating. Or. Suppose it goes even further than that..."
My jaw drops.
"Don't you want a photo to remember our first date?"
I'm suddenly wishing I had more pizza to stuff my face for distraction.
"I don't know, I'm just the type of guy who'd make something to randomly put in your purse....to remind you of this night...when we met....years from now.
Probably a good thing my mouth was empty...I would have choked. I then immediately entered freaked out bitch mode, started laughing and said, "OK creepster, be a good boy and delete that nonsense from your phone."
I should have told him to delete my phone number while he was at it.
Sheboygan has no shortage of men, I assure you. 40% of the city's jobs are in manufacturing, so the male-to-female ratio is quite favorable. On a/an (insert your expletive of choice here) freezing night after being holed up and lonely in my apartment for just over a month, I reconnected with my old pal match.com. Now, back to that plethora of men and my persnickety taste. Yes. One quick search of the eligible bachelors in my area and I immediately expanded my geographic search to stretch 75 miles beyond my zip code.
Sigh.
Relief.
Search results left me...salivating.
I feel it's only fair that I preface these rendez-vous with this: I believe in match.com, full-heartedly. Truth be told, I'd probably be in a very committed relationship with a fella from match if I still lived in Kansas City. But 10 hours is far too far for me. And timing is everything. And I digress.
Bachelor #1 | 34 years old | Milwaukee, WI
Kodak Moment
(If you bust out with Ray-J's "Sexy Can I," I won't hold it against you. I'll even give you this link so you can listen as you read)
I took this kid's humor in our online banter hook, line, and sinker. His handle eluded to CEO aspirations, and of course I bit that one too...until he told me these plans included him giving all his money away. Damn those do-gooders. The manjewelry hanging from his neck took me back to the mid 90s, but I figured if this relationship had legs, that thing could easily walk itself to the trash, right? Apparently I wasn't the only one hypothesizing.
As I devoured my last slice of VPN pizza, I hear my date say, "Oh wow, that was a good one." I look up mid-chew, with sauce dribbled on my chin. He's grinning at his iPhone.
"What?" I ask.
He's still grinning, his eyes reflecting the glow from his phone. "This is great," he tells me.
"Please...please don't tell me that you just took my picture."
I'm horrified.
"--Why?" He still doesn't get it.
"Because it's creepy, that's why."
"...But...suppose this goes somewhere."
"What?"
"You know, suppose we start dating. Or. Suppose it goes even further than that..."
My jaw drops.
"Don't you want a photo to remember our first date?"
I'm suddenly wishing I had more pizza to stuff my face for distraction.
"I don't know, I'm just the type of guy who'd make something to randomly put in your purse....to remind you of this night...when we met....years from now.
Probably a good thing my mouth was empty...I would have choked. I then immediately entered freaked out bitch mode, started laughing and said, "OK creepster, be a good boy and delete that nonsense from your phone."
I should have told him to delete my phone number while he was at it.
You Know It's Good When You Need A Hooha Ice Pack The Next Morning OR How I Got Roped Into Being a Girlfriend
People of the world, let it be declared: I have bagged myself a Grade A Sex God.
The result of which, by hook or by crook, is that I am now a GIRLFRIEND.
Confused?
Let me back up.
I worked a VERY long work week, had a 16-hour event day Saturday, then managed to get up, go to church, have a ladies' lunch, work out and go to my ex-boyfriend's brother's graduation party. I had early on said that I would call DD upon departure from the grad party and we would get together but after all of THAT, I was flippin' TIRED. And, as mentioned, DD and I have a terrible track record for JUST SLEEPING.
I call and he says he's been out working in the yard all day and will need to take a shower.
I seize the opportunity to offer a raincheck.
"I don't really want to unless you do," he says, sounding a little pouty about the whole thing.
"Shower away. See you soon," I say.
Damn it all.
I go home, bathe my child and put him to bed before I hear my phone alert me to a text message.
"Hey, got the impression you're not really up for a wild night. I would like to come see you, but if you're not down for it I guess we can reschedule...if you ARE up for a wild night, I would appreciate you dressing up in your sexiest outfit for me."
Well, that sounds promising.
"I will rally," I text back.
DD arrives and has clearly taken a trip to the adult fun store. Bold and awesome. Of the few things he takes out to SHOW me (promising some surprises for later) I am impressed, frightened, and totally excited.
Kids, I like sex. I've never been accused of not liking it, and I've had some pretty fantabulous nights of debauchery in my time.
This one takes the cake.
I'm pretty sure an hour and half in that I almost pass out, and have to tell him to LEAVE ME BE for like 30 seconds or I'm going to die.
And as the blindfold comes off and I see it's 1:00 in the morning, I don't know where the energy came to survive it all, but I'm sure glad that it did, and I find myself uttering the single dumbest phrase that a girl has ever uttered to a man:
"There's literally nothing you could ask of me right now that I wouldn't do for you."
REALLY!? Where did that come from? Somewhere deep in the depths of my sex coma. I got sex stupor-ed or something. I don't know! Damn you, hormones!
He pauses in the dark and then says "I know what I want from you."
I don't get worried until he turns away from me. "I can't look at you to say this."
OH God. Oh God, it's going to be bad. He's been given carte blanche by my dumb ass to ask anything that his little old hormones desire and I'm about to find out he likes midgets or scat or something horrific that I've never even thought of.
With him facing away from me, I sober up from the sex high and fear for the worst, ready myself for that other shoe to drop and to learn that I've been dating some sort of sociopath or sexual deviant.
"I don't know how to say this without sounding like a dick..." he continues.
Oh, it's something that will be degrading and that will make me hate him. What could it be? I think of as many gross terrible things that might come out of his mouth as I can muster in a few seconds, try to prepare myself for the possibilities, but my brain isn't functioning fully yet. It's still offline from the marathon sexcapades. Come back, brain! Damn you, hormones!
"I want you to claim me."
Wait, what?
"Uh...what?" I say out loud, wondering if this is some code I don't understand in some sexual world I'm not a part of...yet.
He rolls back over to look at me, suddenly very serious. I would feel more capable of seriousness if he would undo these damn handcuffs that are starting to hurt as the adrenaline is fading. There's something to be said for the fuzzy handcuffs that I owned with an ex-boyfriend once upon a time that if I pulled hard enoughI could escape from. These suckers are LEGIT.
"I want you to claim me," he repeats emphatically. Finally reading my mind...or realizing this is a conversation to be had with both parties unrestrained, he reaches up to release me and I rub my wrists while he continues. "I want you to take down your match profile and to put on facebook that I'm yours. That you want to be with me."
Oh. OH! Oh, oh, oh!
I try to recover quickly - something I'm not fully capable of yet. "You want to be my boyfriend" I sing-song playfully.
He doesn't even crack a smile. Just looks at me seriously. I swallow hard.
"Ok....ok," I say softly.
"Ok?" he repeats as if he expected me to say "HELL TO THE NO"
"Ok," I affirm, crawling under the covers and wondering if there is nerve damage in my hand because I can't feel part of it.
"I was thinking about what you keep saying about non-labels, and taking it slow...but, I was getting aggravated working on the lawn today thinking about it. I mean, we've met eachother's kids, and friends, and everything's going great...and I mean, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...it's a fuckin' duck, right? And it doesn't mean you can't change your mind tomorrow. If we're going to do this, then let's DO this. I just...I mean, I've been in relationships where one person has liked the other more...I'm usually the one that likes the other less but I think this may be the opposite."
"I LIKE YOU," I say for the thousandth time. Is he listening to me!?
"But..."
"Oh listen," I say, suddenly realizing the root of his worry, "I like you a lot. And here's what you should think about...I get freaked out when I like someone a lot. I start thinking about the future and the implications of it all and my sense of self gets weirdly threatened...so, just remember, the cagier I get the more it means I like you. Everytime I'm weird, just sit back and say "oh, she's REALLY liking me." Does that help?"
He looks at me a little bit like I've sprouted a third eye but nods.
"You've got to remember these are uncharted waters for me. I haven't been married, I haven't even lived with a man, I've never dated someone with kids and I've only dated one other person since I had a kid. I'm going to be cagier about some of this stuff than you are in your Yoda-like dating experience," I explain.
He smiles at that.
"So you're my girl?" He puts his arm around my shoulders.
"I'm your girl."
After round i've-lost-count of sexual deviance when we wake up in the morning, I have a thought that he knows me well enough to know that I am atypical in the girl sense. Women are accused of using sex as a tool to get what the want, but I am 99.9% sure that my now-boyfriend sexed me into a coma in order to have my defenses down. Granted, I knew I was on borrowed time with my lame "slow and steady wins the race" business, and I'm OKAY being a girlfriend.
I realized today that it's not being HIS girlfriend that bothers me. I was a girlfriend once. A devoted, ridiculous girlfriend. I lost myself in that relationship, in that boy. After him, something in me decided that had SUCKED and worked hard to find a sense of self and independance. Falling for someone, letting them in, feels like someone chipping at this giant wall of SELF. From that damn toothbrush to this declaration of official relationship-dom, my warning bells have nothing to do with the so far nothing-but-fabulous DD, but with my own lack of confidence in my ability to maintain my SELF and also be GOOD GIRLFRIEND. I didn't know how to be both with the last person I fell in love with. I chose what I thought GOOD GIRLFRIEND meant.
But DD made it feel different.
"I know there's something real here. You...you're what I'm looking for," he said.
"Oh, you...just wait," I say like a broken record waiting for him to find something he hates about me.
"I don't expect you to be perfect. I don't think you're perfect, I like you for being exactly who you are. So long as you're not pretending to be someone you're not..."
"I'm NOT," I interject defensively.
"Then just be you. I like YOU. I like all the things that make you YOU."
Oh, lord Jesus, I am in trouble.
And so, Monday morning after DD leaves for work, I sit down at the computer and cancel my match.com membership. "I've met someone" I mark on the "why are you leaving?" survey options. I forward him the cancellation.
Then, perhaps with even more trepidation, I get on facebook and change my status to "in a relationship" with him.
There, done. That wasn't so hard. I get up from the computer, grab the icepack I was sitting on to heal my sexcapade battle wounds (holy crap!), glance at my bruised wrists and bounce off to work with a smirk on my face and a new relationship in my pocket.
The result of which, by hook or by crook, is that I am now a GIRLFRIEND.
Confused?
Let me back up.
I worked a VERY long work week, had a 16-hour event day Saturday, then managed to get up, go to church, have a ladies' lunch, work out and go to my ex-boyfriend's brother's graduation party. I had early on said that I would call DD upon departure from the grad party and we would get together but after all of THAT, I was flippin' TIRED. And, as mentioned, DD and I have a terrible track record for JUST SLEEPING.
I call and he says he's been out working in the yard all day and will need to take a shower.
I seize the opportunity to offer a raincheck.
"I don't really want to unless you do," he says, sounding a little pouty about the whole thing.
"Shower away. See you soon," I say.
Damn it all.
I go home, bathe my child and put him to bed before I hear my phone alert me to a text message.
"Hey, got the impression you're not really up for a wild night. I would like to come see you, but if you're not down for it I guess we can reschedule...if you ARE up for a wild night, I would appreciate you dressing up in your sexiest outfit for me."
Well, that sounds promising.
"I will rally," I text back.
DD arrives and has clearly taken a trip to the adult fun store. Bold and awesome. Of the few things he takes out to SHOW me (promising some surprises for later) I am impressed, frightened, and totally excited.
Kids, I like sex. I've never been accused of not liking it, and I've had some pretty fantabulous nights of debauchery in my time.
This one takes the cake.
I'm pretty sure an hour and half in that I almost pass out, and have to tell him to LEAVE ME BE for like 30 seconds or I'm going to die.
And as the blindfold comes off and I see it's 1:00 in the morning, I don't know where the energy came to survive it all, but I'm sure glad that it did, and I find myself uttering the single dumbest phrase that a girl has ever uttered to a man:
"There's literally nothing you could ask of me right now that I wouldn't do for you."
REALLY!? Where did that come from? Somewhere deep in the depths of my sex coma. I got sex stupor-ed or something. I don't know! Damn you, hormones!
He pauses in the dark and then says "I know what I want from you."
I don't get worried until he turns away from me. "I can't look at you to say this."
OH God. Oh God, it's going to be bad. He's been given carte blanche by my dumb ass to ask anything that his little old hormones desire and I'm about to find out he likes midgets or scat or something horrific that I've never even thought of.
With him facing away from me, I sober up from the sex high and fear for the worst, ready myself for that other shoe to drop and to learn that I've been dating some sort of sociopath or sexual deviant.
"I don't know how to say this without sounding like a dick..." he continues.
Oh, it's something that will be degrading and that will make me hate him. What could it be? I think of as many gross terrible things that might come out of his mouth as I can muster in a few seconds, try to prepare myself for the possibilities, but my brain isn't functioning fully yet. It's still offline from the marathon sexcapades. Come back, brain! Damn you, hormones!
"I want you to claim me."
Wait, what?
"Uh...what?" I say out loud, wondering if this is some code I don't understand in some sexual world I'm not a part of...yet.
He rolls back over to look at me, suddenly very serious. I would feel more capable of seriousness if he would undo these damn handcuffs that are starting to hurt as the adrenaline is fading. There's something to be said for the fuzzy handcuffs that I owned with an ex-boyfriend once upon a time that if I pulled hard enoughI could escape from. These suckers are LEGIT.
"I want you to claim me," he repeats emphatically. Finally reading my mind...or realizing this is a conversation to be had with both parties unrestrained, he reaches up to release me and I rub my wrists while he continues. "I want you to take down your match profile and to put on facebook that I'm yours. That you want to be with me."
Oh. OH! Oh, oh, oh!
I try to recover quickly - something I'm not fully capable of yet. "You want to be my boyfriend" I sing-song playfully.
He doesn't even crack a smile. Just looks at me seriously. I swallow hard.
"Ok....ok," I say softly.
"Ok?" he repeats as if he expected me to say "HELL TO THE NO"
"Ok," I affirm, crawling under the covers and wondering if there is nerve damage in my hand because I can't feel part of it.
"I was thinking about what you keep saying about non-labels, and taking it slow...but, I was getting aggravated working on the lawn today thinking about it. I mean, we've met eachother's kids, and friends, and everything's going great...and I mean, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...it's a fuckin' duck, right? And it doesn't mean you can't change your mind tomorrow. If we're going to do this, then let's DO this. I just...I mean, I've been in relationships where one person has liked the other more...I'm usually the one that likes the other less but I think this may be the opposite."
"I LIKE YOU," I say for the thousandth time. Is he listening to me!?
"But..."
"Oh listen," I say, suddenly realizing the root of his worry, "I like you a lot. And here's what you should think about...I get freaked out when I like someone a lot. I start thinking about the future and the implications of it all and my sense of self gets weirdly threatened...so, just remember, the cagier I get the more it means I like you. Everytime I'm weird, just sit back and say "oh, she's REALLY liking me." Does that help?"
He looks at me a little bit like I've sprouted a third eye but nods.
"You've got to remember these are uncharted waters for me. I haven't been married, I haven't even lived with a man, I've never dated someone with kids and I've only dated one other person since I had a kid. I'm going to be cagier about some of this stuff than you are in your Yoda-like dating experience," I explain.
He smiles at that.
"So you're my girl?" He puts his arm around my shoulders.
"I'm your girl."
After round i've-lost-count of sexual deviance when we wake up in the morning, I have a thought that he knows me well enough to know that I am atypical in the girl sense. Women are accused of using sex as a tool to get what the want, but I am 99.9% sure that my now-boyfriend sexed me into a coma in order to have my defenses down. Granted, I knew I was on borrowed time with my lame "slow and steady wins the race" business, and I'm OKAY being a girlfriend.
I realized today that it's not being HIS girlfriend that bothers me. I was a girlfriend once. A devoted, ridiculous girlfriend. I lost myself in that relationship, in that boy. After him, something in me decided that had SUCKED and worked hard to find a sense of self and independance. Falling for someone, letting them in, feels like someone chipping at this giant wall of SELF. From that damn toothbrush to this declaration of official relationship-dom, my warning bells have nothing to do with the so far nothing-but-fabulous DD, but with my own lack of confidence in my ability to maintain my SELF and also be GOOD GIRLFRIEND. I didn't know how to be both with the last person I fell in love with. I chose what I thought GOOD GIRLFRIEND meant.
But DD made it feel different.
"I know there's something real here. You...you're what I'm looking for," he said.
"Oh, you...just wait," I say like a broken record waiting for him to find something he hates about me.
"I don't expect you to be perfect. I don't think you're perfect, I like you for being exactly who you are. So long as you're not pretending to be someone you're not..."
"I'm NOT," I interject defensively.
"Then just be you. I like YOU. I like all the things that make you YOU."
Oh, lord Jesus, I am in trouble.
And so, Monday morning after DD leaves for work, I sit down at the computer and cancel my match.com membership. "I've met someone" I mark on the "why are you leaving?" survey options. I forward him the cancellation.
Then, perhaps with even more trepidation, I get on facebook and change my status to "in a relationship" with him.
There, done. That wasn't so hard. I get up from the computer, grab the icepack I was sitting on to heal my sexcapade battle wounds (holy crap!), glance at my bruised wrists and bounce off to work with a smirk on my face and a new relationship in my pocket.
A Meeting o' Manfriends Past and Present
Friday night I worked 13 hours, followed by a 16 hour Saturday. My job is demanding.
Through fortune or fate, Friday night is a night where invited friends and family can attend the show that we had rehearsed all week for Saturday night's event and at which both DD and first-love/current-friend would both be attending. I wanted DD to see where I worked and get a glimpse of what I did. When I learned that FL/CF would be there, I thought it was a good chance for them to meet...very briefly.
I was slightly worried that FL/CF would be a dbag to DD, but was pleased when upon conclusion of the show as I walked DD upstairs to get my keys so he could go back to my place and wait for me that we met FL/CF, his mother and his mother's best friends (whose daughter was in the show) and they were cordial...and it was brief.
This led to an interesting conversation regarding platonic relationships between men and women, and also the reality of friendships with exes.
"You're friends with your ex," I point out.
"I'm friendly with my ex becuase of our daughters. It's not the same," he says.
Valid point.
"I might be weird then. I have always had close male friends. I used to crash in my friends' beds without so much as an inappropriate move made, and vice versa."
"Not even a boob squeeze attempt?" DD asks. He's not even joking.
"Nope."
"They thought about it."
"Well, I didn't. And if they did, they knew me well enough to know they'd get an elbow in the eye in retaliation."
"You're a tough girl," he says.
I've never been considered tough. Weeny. That's my usual label.
"You really think so?" I ask, settling into the idea that I might secretly be a badass and not even know it.
"You don't take shit."
"Well, that's true," I agree.
"I'm don't feel jealous. I get jealous, but I don't feel that right now. Maybe becuase I trust you or believe that there's nothing to worry about...in this moment. I mean, I don't really want you sleeping in other guys beds NOW..." I quickly interject that this is a non-issue. I am a mother of morals and virtues. He gives me a little look on the "virtue" part of my statement.
"So, in this moment, I'm fine with it."
There were a LOT of disclaimers about being fine with it now as if to say that may not ALWAYS be the case.
"Well, they're not going anywhere," I say, bristling
"That's fine."
Good, I think. He's being cool about this things that all my girlfriends think will be my great relationship downfall - or one of the things that is doomed to be my great relationship downfall - my man friends (space intended). I've had friends tell me that no guy will EVER be okay with me being as close to boys as I am. I've always argued that the right man would be.
There has to be something wrong with this guy. Things can't be this easy, can they? He's clearly a closeted axe murderer. Or he hits puppies or something.
Through fortune or fate, Friday night is a night where invited friends and family can attend the show that we had rehearsed all week for Saturday night's event and at which both DD and first-love/current-friend would both be attending. I wanted DD to see where I worked and get a glimpse of what I did. When I learned that FL/CF would be there, I thought it was a good chance for them to meet...very briefly.
I was slightly worried that FL/CF would be a dbag to DD, but was pleased when upon conclusion of the show as I walked DD upstairs to get my keys so he could go back to my place and wait for me that we met FL/CF, his mother and his mother's best friends (whose daughter was in the show) and they were cordial...and it was brief.
This led to an interesting conversation regarding platonic relationships between men and women, and also the reality of friendships with exes.
"You're friends with your ex," I point out.
"I'm friendly with my ex becuase of our daughters. It's not the same," he says.
Valid point.
"I might be weird then. I have always had close male friends. I used to crash in my friends' beds without so much as an inappropriate move made, and vice versa."
"Not even a boob squeeze attempt?" DD asks. He's not even joking.
"Nope."
"They thought about it."
"Well, I didn't. And if they did, they knew me well enough to know they'd get an elbow in the eye in retaliation."
"You're a tough girl," he says.
I've never been considered tough. Weeny. That's my usual label.
"You really think so?" I ask, settling into the idea that I might secretly be a badass and not even know it.
"You don't take shit."
"Well, that's true," I agree.
"I'm don't feel jealous. I get jealous, but I don't feel that right now. Maybe becuase I trust you or believe that there's nothing to worry about...in this moment. I mean, I don't really want you sleeping in other guys beds NOW..." I quickly interject that this is a non-issue. I am a mother of morals and virtues. He gives me a little look on the "virtue" part of my statement.
"So, in this moment, I'm fine with it."
There were a LOT of disclaimers about being fine with it now as if to say that may not ALWAYS be the case.
"Well, they're not going anywhere," I say, bristling
"That's fine."
Good, I think. He's being cool about this things that all my girlfriends think will be my great relationship downfall - or one of the things that is doomed to be my great relationship downfall - my man friends (space intended). I've had friends tell me that no guy will EVER be okay with me being as close to boys as I am. I've always argued that the right man would be.
There has to be something wrong with this guy. Things can't be this easy, can they? He's clearly a closeted axe murderer. Or he hits puppies or something.
Total Rewind # 6: "Look, we just took a relationship step!"
Wednesday night, DD and I find ourselves post-coital and I am blissfully drifting towards sleep when he asks "so...what are we doing here?"
"Having fun," I mumble against his chest, not opening my eyes. I have been working late all week...will be working late the rest of the week...and I am going to sleep. If DD and I have any problem it's that we appear to be incapable of going to sleep at a decent hour due to too much sex and yakking about our lives, our hopes, our dreams, our likes, our dislikes...and right now, apparently, the status of our relationship (or non-relationship as the case may be)
"Yes, but what do you want to be doing here?" he persists, emphasizes there is deeper meaning to this question.
GO TO SLEEP! It's after midnight! Let's talk about this later!
"What do YOU want to be doing here?" I counter, cracking one eye to look up at him and see that he, for his part, is WIDE awake and staring down at me intently.
"You know what I want. I've been pretty clear. You're the one playing it close to the vest," he says.
Bah humbug. We're going to have to talk about this. I sit up and cross my legs so I can look at him while I give my speech.
"I like you," I declare.
"I know," he says with a clear unspoken "but what does that mean?"
"Things are going great. Sometimes too great. It's weird that none of this is weird. I see you more in a week than I have seen anyone that I can remember recently. Your toothbrush got to stay in my bathroom. I just don't see why if things are this good NOW they won't be this good in three or four weeks when we can talk about this again. I just...I mean...I told you...slow and steady wins the race."
I'm going to have to work on this speech for next time. Hopefully I have a few weeks before we have it again.
By the look on DD's face, I'm not so sure.
"I get that, I guess. But, I mean, are you still wanting to see other people?"
Oh! I'd talked to a friend about this very thing this week when discussing labels, lack of labes, danger of labels, etc etc etc.
"No!" I exclaim, ready to roll. "In fact, I don't want to see other people NOR do I want to sleep with other people. And I'd like for you to not sleep with other people."
"Not an issue."
"Good, then, there's our relationship step for the day. We are not sleeping with other people. Just eachother," I say triumphantly.
He gives me a look. "I don't think there's a facebook status for that."
I grin. "Sure there is. 'It's complicated.'"
"This isn't complicated," he counters.
It's true. It's blissfully uncomplicated.
"Well, they don't have a "it's uncomplicated." I say.
Although at this rate with my neuroses, we may be "it's complicated" before we know it.
"Having fun," I mumble against his chest, not opening my eyes. I have been working late all week...will be working late the rest of the week...and I am going to sleep. If DD and I have any problem it's that we appear to be incapable of going to sleep at a decent hour due to too much sex and yakking about our lives, our hopes, our dreams, our likes, our dislikes...and right now, apparently, the status of our relationship (or non-relationship as the case may be)
"Yes, but what do you want to be doing here?" he persists, emphasizes there is deeper meaning to this question.
GO TO SLEEP! It's after midnight! Let's talk about this later!
"What do YOU want to be doing here?" I counter, cracking one eye to look up at him and see that he, for his part, is WIDE awake and staring down at me intently.
"You know what I want. I've been pretty clear. You're the one playing it close to the vest," he says.
Bah humbug. We're going to have to talk about this. I sit up and cross my legs so I can look at him while I give my speech.
"I like you," I declare.
"I know," he says with a clear unspoken "but what does that mean?"
"Things are going great. Sometimes too great. It's weird that none of this is weird. I see you more in a week than I have seen anyone that I can remember recently. Your toothbrush got to stay in my bathroom. I just don't see why if things are this good NOW they won't be this good in three or four weeks when we can talk about this again. I just...I mean...I told you...slow and steady wins the race."
I'm going to have to work on this speech for next time. Hopefully I have a few weeks before we have it again.
By the look on DD's face, I'm not so sure.
"I get that, I guess. But, I mean, are you still wanting to see other people?"
Oh! I'd talked to a friend about this very thing this week when discussing labels, lack of labes, danger of labels, etc etc etc.
"No!" I exclaim, ready to roll. "In fact, I don't want to see other people NOR do I want to sleep with other people. And I'd like for you to not sleep with other people."
"Not an issue."
"Good, then, there's our relationship step for the day. We are not sleeping with other people. Just eachother," I say triumphantly.
He gives me a look. "I don't think there's a facebook status for that."
I grin. "Sure there is. 'It's complicated.'"
"This isn't complicated," he counters.
It's true. It's blissfully uncomplicated.
"Well, they don't have a "it's uncomplicated." I say.
Although at this rate with my neuroses, we may be "it's complicated" before we know it.
Total Rewind # 5: Family Time
And by "family time" I mean time with DD, his kids and my kids - an instant family of 5 by all accounts.
Sunday after the toothbrush incident, I find myself trudging across a park with my son, bundled up due to unseasonal cold in May, to watch DD play in a rec kickball playoff game.
We're late because we went to church and then had to stop twice for my son to go to the bathroom and get water.
I like that DD plays rec kickball. I thought it was cute before I showed up, but when I show up to Gillham Park and see HUNDREDS of people and three kickballs games commencing, I upgrade "cute" to some other word of appreciation. This is a fun extracurricular thing that DD does. This is a good sign. He has friends and a life that are important to him. It makes me understand why he keeps saying that he appreciated that I have a life and friends. I appreciate it in him. I'm just not as good at gushing as he is.
We manage to catch DD scoring a run just before his team loses and is out of the playoffs. Luckily, there's free beer and they are going to grill hot dogs and brats and hang out.
I peg his girls instantly. His oldest is wearing a fuzzy pink jackets with hearts on it and embellished jeans with flowers on them. Somehow, this is exactly what I thought she would be wearing. The younger one is sullenly slumped in a lawn chair, stocking cap pulled down over a pair of askew blonde pigtails. She spares me a glance and then looks back out at the kickball players. The older one seems to know who I am, takes in MY son, and smiles.
Okay, that's good. I don't know what I expected. They're old enough to not like people purely for the sake of not liking people. I don't know what they know about me or what "dating" means to them.
DD sidles up, hugs me and kisses me on the cheek.
"is this okay?" he asks, meaning the PDA. I glance at my toddler, who is oblivious and running towards a tree.
"I think I'm fine for HIM, but you tell me on...I mean, it's your call," I say awkwardly.
I'm out of my element and I don't know the rules of this particular game.
Luckily, the game plays itself out. We grill and someone sets up a game of ladder ball which the girls and my son play at. They're surprisingly sweet with him and makes sure to give him a turn, and to gently remind him to let THEM have a turn. At one point DD heads to the luxury port-a-potty that is across the park from us, and I find myself sitting next to his oldest (who is manning the grill, and I'm trying to keep myself warm by staying in proximity to the warmth of the grill) and his youngest comes in from kicking the ball around with my son. She looks at me.
"I'm bored and I'm hungry," she says petulantly. It reminds me of my little sister.
I grin, stifle a laugh and say "well, that's a terrible combination. I think the hot dogs are almost done though, so we can knock half of that off. And when your dad gets back we're going to head over to the playground. Sound like a plan?"
Her eyes brighten just enough that I think I've passed some test with her. She nods slightly and then asks my son if he wants to keep kicking the ball. They run back onto the field and I make small talk about choir and girl scouts with the older one.
The good news is that the girls have a similar dynamic and juxtaposition of personality as my sister and I did as kids so I feel comfortable with my course of conversation with BOTH. It's easier than I thought (not that I could have pegged what I really THOUGHT).
We all head to the playground and everyone gets to run around. I chase my son around the playground, and it's as we're sliding down a slide backwards that I look up and see DD grinning at me.
"What?" I say, looking at him upside down from where I lay on my back on the slide. I lift my son off of me and let him go play and scramble to right myself.
"I didn't realize that you were a playground kind of girl," he says, still grinning.
"I like playgrounds," I say, trying to make it sound both defensive and like "who doesn't!?"
"I guess it hasn't been that long since you've been on them yourself," he cracks, making me roll my eyes.
"Alright, Old Man," I say, getting up and hugging him.
We walk over to the swings where all three kids have run to in time to see his youngest daughter picking up my toddler and putting him on a swing before retreating to her own swing and letting her older sister push my son on the swing. I don't know why this moment struck me so deeply, but I watch a 9 and 10 year old easily accept a 2.5 year old and it was a surreal moment in which my brain jumped years into my future and thought "this could work. this could be SOMETHING."
"We should head home," I say out loud when I pull myself out of the crazy girl thoughts.
We legitimately need to go home, but I've also freaked myself out on the inside. Time to go.
"Thanks for spending Sunday with us," DD says charmingly after getting his kids in the car and walking me and MY kid towards mine.
"It was great," I say genuinely, with just enough of my real surprise and delight that he seems to feel it. I get my tired tired toddler strapped in and turned to kiss DD. We pull back and just grin at eachother for a moment.
I have another internal future flash, pull away quickly and wave goodbye as I FLEE.
Am I on my way to inheriting teenage girls and a family of 5?
Sunday after the toothbrush incident, I find myself trudging across a park with my son, bundled up due to unseasonal cold in May, to watch DD play in a rec kickball playoff game.
We're late because we went to church and then had to stop twice for my son to go to the bathroom and get water.
I like that DD plays rec kickball. I thought it was cute before I showed up, but when I show up to Gillham Park and see HUNDREDS of people and three kickballs games commencing, I upgrade "cute" to some other word of appreciation. This is a fun extracurricular thing that DD does. This is a good sign. He has friends and a life that are important to him. It makes me understand why he keeps saying that he appreciated that I have a life and friends. I appreciate it in him. I'm just not as good at gushing as he is.
We manage to catch DD scoring a run just before his team loses and is out of the playoffs. Luckily, there's free beer and they are going to grill hot dogs and brats and hang out.
I peg his girls instantly. His oldest is wearing a fuzzy pink jackets with hearts on it and embellished jeans with flowers on them. Somehow, this is exactly what I thought she would be wearing. The younger one is sullenly slumped in a lawn chair, stocking cap pulled down over a pair of askew blonde pigtails. She spares me a glance and then looks back out at the kickball players. The older one seems to know who I am, takes in MY son, and smiles.
Okay, that's good. I don't know what I expected. They're old enough to not like people purely for the sake of not liking people. I don't know what they know about me or what "dating" means to them.
DD sidles up, hugs me and kisses me on the cheek.
"is this okay?" he asks, meaning the PDA. I glance at my toddler, who is oblivious and running towards a tree.
"I think I'm fine for HIM, but you tell me on...I mean, it's your call," I say awkwardly.
I'm out of my element and I don't know the rules of this particular game.
Luckily, the game plays itself out. We grill and someone sets up a game of ladder ball which the girls and my son play at. They're surprisingly sweet with him and makes sure to give him a turn, and to gently remind him to let THEM have a turn. At one point DD heads to the luxury port-a-potty that is across the park from us, and I find myself sitting next to his oldest (who is manning the grill, and I'm trying to keep myself warm by staying in proximity to the warmth of the grill) and his youngest comes in from kicking the ball around with my son. She looks at me.
"I'm bored and I'm hungry," she says petulantly. It reminds me of my little sister.
I grin, stifle a laugh and say "well, that's a terrible combination. I think the hot dogs are almost done though, so we can knock half of that off. And when your dad gets back we're going to head over to the playground. Sound like a plan?"
Her eyes brighten just enough that I think I've passed some test with her. She nods slightly and then asks my son if he wants to keep kicking the ball. They run back onto the field and I make small talk about choir and girl scouts with the older one.
The good news is that the girls have a similar dynamic and juxtaposition of personality as my sister and I did as kids so I feel comfortable with my course of conversation with BOTH. It's easier than I thought (not that I could have pegged what I really THOUGHT).
We all head to the playground and everyone gets to run around. I chase my son around the playground, and it's as we're sliding down a slide backwards that I look up and see DD grinning at me.
"What?" I say, looking at him upside down from where I lay on my back on the slide. I lift my son off of me and let him go play and scramble to right myself.
"I didn't realize that you were a playground kind of girl," he says, still grinning.
"I like playgrounds," I say, trying to make it sound both defensive and like "who doesn't!?"
"I guess it hasn't been that long since you've been on them yourself," he cracks, making me roll my eyes.
"Alright, Old Man," I say, getting up and hugging him.
We walk over to the swings where all three kids have run to in time to see his youngest daughter picking up my toddler and putting him on a swing before retreating to her own swing and letting her older sister push my son on the swing. I don't know why this moment struck me so deeply, but I watch a 9 and 10 year old easily accept a 2.5 year old and it was a surreal moment in which my brain jumped years into my future and thought "this could work. this could be SOMETHING."
"We should head home," I say out loud when I pull myself out of the crazy girl thoughts.
We legitimately need to go home, but I've also freaked myself out on the inside. Time to go.
"Thanks for spending Sunday with us," DD says charmingly after getting his kids in the car and walking me and MY kid towards mine.
"It was great," I say genuinely, with just enough of my real surprise and delight that he seems to feel it. I get my tired tired toddler strapped in and turned to kiss DD. We pull back and just grin at eachother for a moment.
I have another internal future flash, pull away quickly and wave goodbye as I FLEE.
Am I on my way to inheriting teenage girls and a family of 5?
Total Rewind # 5: The Case of the Toothbrush
This gets its on post.
So, the night of prom, DD announces as we're drinking Mickey's and chatting that he remembered to bring a toothbrush and deodorant over. I'm the first in the mornings to jump up and brush my teeth to avoid the dread morning breath kisses, so I think it's sweet he's returning the favor.
"Well, good, now you won't be the stinky morning guy," I crack with a smile.
The next morning, after prom, as we're brushing our teeth with our (okay just MY) ridiculous morning hair, our (okay MY) smudged make-up and with the shaky legs that come after a GOOD night, I have a moment where I glance down into my bathroom trashcan and my eyes rivet to a strange sight. I realize there is toothbrush packaging in my trash can.
I spit toothpaste, rinse, and look back at the trashcan to make sure I'm looking at what I think I'm looking at. When I look up to question DD, I find that I'm looking up at the exact moment that he's putting his BRAND NEW TOOTHBRUSH in my toothbrush holder.
I freeze for a moment, trying to absorb what has just happened.
"Oh, it's STAYING here," I blurt out sensitively and astutely.
He smiles at me, but it's a little tentative.
"Is that okay?" he asks, reaching for his deodorant which he also takes the packaging off of.
Oh, THAT'S STAYING here too!?!?
I recover quickly.
"Yup. Yup. Totally okay," I say, finding that it both IS and IS NOT.
I look at the blue CVS toothbrush hanging out with my green dentist toothbrush in my toothbrush holder.
I've had boyfriends. I've had sex. I've had friends with benefits. I've dated people.
I have never had another toothbrush in my toothbrush holder.
"Are you going to freak out?" he asks, putting his deodorant down in what he has determined will be his deodorant's home on my bathroom counter.
"Nope," I say quickly, still eye-ing the toothbrush.
He laughs. "Okay, you can freak out after I leave. In the meantime, you're going to have to stop staring at the toothbrush."
I smile and retreat from the bathroom in order to stop staring at the alien toothbrush.
It makes SENSE. He's spending at least 3 nights a week here. He shouldn't have to be stinky. I appreciate that he's NOT going to be stinky. I LIKE him being in house that much (which is WEIRD). It doesn't bother me that it's his - it bothers me, for whatever illogical reason, in principle.
Every time I walk by the bathroom that day, I give the toothbrush the stink eye.
I talk to any friend that will listen about it.
"There's a TOOTHBRUSH in my bathroom," I exclaim to friends that are married or have boyfriends and to which this is not that big of a friggin deal.
Everyone either wonders if he's moving too fast on me or if I feel like I didn't have a say in the appearance of the toothbrush. I can't seem to explain that I don't mind that it's his toothbrush that is there. That feels okay. I will be fine when he spend that night this week that he has a toothbrush in my bathroom.
It's something greater - something that I find especially as I recount this from a week and a half later.
It's the first sign of someone encroaching on my independence...on my space. It's a strange sense of territory akin to the likes of which I have never experienced.
"Let's talk about this toothbrush," I say for the fiftieth time to my sister and her friend over a lunch at Chipotle with my son after toddler gymnastics.
"What's going on?" my sister's friend asks innocently.
"My sister is Mr. Big," my sister deadpans unforgivingly. "Get over it."
Why am I the GUY all of a sudden? I was the clingy GIRL in my one and only significant relationship but suddenly I'm the one playing my emotions close to the vest, I'm the one freaking out about someone leaving STUFF at my place.
Luckily, I'm still girl enough that I have to tell everybody about it. This is heartening.
I still put the toothbrush in a drawer for a solid 24 hours.
It's a process.
So, the night of prom, DD announces as we're drinking Mickey's and chatting that he remembered to bring a toothbrush and deodorant over. I'm the first in the mornings to jump up and brush my teeth to avoid the dread morning breath kisses, so I think it's sweet he's returning the favor.
"Well, good, now you won't be the stinky morning guy," I crack with a smile.
The next morning, after prom, as we're brushing our teeth with our (okay just MY) ridiculous morning hair, our (okay MY) smudged make-up and with the shaky legs that come after a GOOD night, I have a moment where I glance down into my bathroom trashcan and my eyes rivet to a strange sight. I realize there is toothbrush packaging in my trash can.
I spit toothpaste, rinse, and look back at the trashcan to make sure I'm looking at what I think I'm looking at. When I look up to question DD, I find that I'm looking up at the exact moment that he's putting his BRAND NEW TOOTHBRUSH in my toothbrush holder.
I freeze for a moment, trying to absorb what has just happened.
"Oh, it's STAYING here," I blurt out sensitively and astutely.
He smiles at me, but it's a little tentative.
"Is that okay?" he asks, reaching for his deodorant which he also takes the packaging off of.
Oh, THAT'S STAYING here too!?!?
I recover quickly.
"Yup. Yup. Totally okay," I say, finding that it both IS and IS NOT.
I look at the blue CVS toothbrush hanging out with my green dentist toothbrush in my toothbrush holder.
I've had boyfriends. I've had sex. I've had friends with benefits. I've dated people.
I have never had another toothbrush in my toothbrush holder.
"Are you going to freak out?" he asks, putting his deodorant down in what he has determined will be his deodorant's home on my bathroom counter.
"Nope," I say quickly, still eye-ing the toothbrush.
He laughs. "Okay, you can freak out after I leave. In the meantime, you're going to have to stop staring at the toothbrush."
I smile and retreat from the bathroom in order to stop staring at the alien toothbrush.
It makes SENSE. He's spending at least 3 nights a week here. He shouldn't have to be stinky. I appreciate that he's NOT going to be stinky. I LIKE him being in house that much (which is WEIRD). It doesn't bother me that it's his - it bothers me, for whatever illogical reason, in principle.
Every time I walk by the bathroom that day, I give the toothbrush the stink eye.
I talk to any friend that will listen about it.
"There's a TOOTHBRUSH in my bathroom," I exclaim to friends that are married or have boyfriends and to which this is not that big of a friggin deal.
Everyone either wonders if he's moving too fast on me or if I feel like I didn't have a say in the appearance of the toothbrush. I can't seem to explain that I don't mind that it's his toothbrush that is there. That feels okay. I will be fine when he spend that night this week that he has a toothbrush in my bathroom.
It's something greater - something that I find especially as I recount this from a week and a half later.
It's the first sign of someone encroaching on my independence...on my space. It's a strange sense of territory akin to the likes of which I have never experienced.
"Let's talk about this toothbrush," I say for the fiftieth time to my sister and her friend over a lunch at Chipotle with my son after toddler gymnastics.
"What's going on?" my sister's friend asks innocently.
"My sister is Mr. Big," my sister deadpans unforgivingly. "Get over it."
Why am I the GUY all of a sudden? I was the clingy GIRL in my one and only significant relationship but suddenly I'm the one playing my emotions close to the vest, I'm the one freaking out about someone leaving STUFF at my place.
Luckily, I'm still girl enough that I have to tell everybody about it. This is heartening.
I still put the toothbrush in a drawer for a solid 24 hours.
It's a process.
Total Rewind # 4: Second Chance Prom
Finally the day came that DD has asked me about after only our first date! I remember thinking when he asked me three weeks prior to the actual prom date that it was pretty bold or I must have tricked him with my feminine wiles into thinking that setting up a date three weeks after a first date was a good plan.
The second chance prom he invited me to was something I had heard only rumblings about over the past few years. It's hosted by a radio station and it an excuse for adults to dress up and go watch bands and dance and have fun. Any excuse to dress up sells me.
I dress up in a formal dress from high school that magically fits and might even look better now than it did once upon a time. Not wanting to take the experience TOO seriously, I crimp my hair and wear black jewelry to "funk" the look up.
DD shows up with an armful of stuff - the best of which is surprisingly a CORSAGE. This ranks up there on the cuteness scale with the flowers - maybe higher because of the points he gets for creativity. He also has 2 40s of Mickey's - because it "wouldn't be prom without pre-partying" he says with a grin. He's both confident and a little shy about the whole thing.
I find I can't stop kissing him, and don't share that I didn't pre-party at my proms because I was a Goody Two Shoes.
We drink some beer and watch a couple videos of the bands we're going to see before heading downtown to the Midland Theatre.
The dresses, the suits - the whole thing is HILARIOUS. We arrive during the second band and dance and have another beer. The whole thing is fun and light-hearted and I have a BLAST.
Sometime after midnight, we leave downtown and head back out South. DD says he's hungry and wonders if I might like to complete the prom experience with a trip to IHOP. This takes me back because I definitely ended most high school dances at an IHOP.
We have breakfast at 1 AM - which helps me sober up just a smidge after a couple of beers - and then head back to my place.
We're barely in the door - I'm setting my purse on the kitchen table actually - when he hugs me from behind and his hands go to the zipper of my dress.
"I've been wanting to do this all night," he whispers in my ear.
And no prom night is complete without a little bit of THAT too. ;-)
The second chance prom he invited me to was something I had heard only rumblings about over the past few years. It's hosted by a radio station and it an excuse for adults to dress up and go watch bands and dance and have fun. Any excuse to dress up sells me.
I dress up in a formal dress from high school that magically fits and might even look better now than it did once upon a time. Not wanting to take the experience TOO seriously, I crimp my hair and wear black jewelry to "funk" the look up.
DD shows up with an armful of stuff - the best of which is surprisingly a CORSAGE. This ranks up there on the cuteness scale with the flowers - maybe higher because of the points he gets for creativity. He also has 2 40s of Mickey's - because it "wouldn't be prom without pre-partying" he says with a grin. He's both confident and a little shy about the whole thing.
I find I can't stop kissing him, and don't share that I didn't pre-party at my proms because I was a Goody Two Shoes.
We drink some beer and watch a couple videos of the bands we're going to see before heading downtown to the Midland Theatre.
The dresses, the suits - the whole thing is HILARIOUS. We arrive during the second band and dance and have another beer. The whole thing is fun and light-hearted and I have a BLAST.
Sometime after midnight, we leave downtown and head back out South. DD says he's hungry and wonders if I might like to complete the prom experience with a trip to IHOP. This takes me back because I definitely ended most high school dances at an IHOP.
We have breakfast at 1 AM - which helps me sober up just a smidge after a couple of beers - and then head back to my place.
We're barely in the door - I'm setting my purse on the kitchen table actually - when he hugs me from behind and his hands go to the zipper of my dress.
"I've been wanting to do this all night," he whispers in my ear.
And no prom night is complete without a little bit of THAT too. ;-)
Total Rewind # 3: Friend Approval
I'm trying to catch up folks. Stay with me.
Friend approval is vital for me. With my first boyfriend - who very few of my friends liked - I was stubbornly resistant to the idea that friend approval wasn't key, objective, and a clear step in the process.
Having won over DD's bestie from high school and HIS girlfriend at the Royals game, it seemed natural that the next night at our roller derby date we should meet a bulk of the "crew" that I spend my time with.
Now, what I didn't anticipate was DD gravitating towards my latest ex, who happens to be roommates with my best friend's boyfriend (follow that?) This Ex - who I wish I could find a nickname for since he gives EVERYONE's nicknames - is a reporter and thus, a great first person to meet. However, after 15 minutes I find myself texting my sister: "I think [DD] and [Ex-Boyfriend] are on a first date. I'm just sitting here."
It's only after the derby (which was DD's first) that we retire to a local bar that we spend many a weekend night at that things really get good. DD, I discover, is funny to other people too! My judgement isn't impaired! My best friend's boyfriend laughs at solidly 3 or 4 of DD's jokes - none of which are assuming or polarizing.
When he goes to the restroom, I immediately ask the table "what do you think!?"
Everyone offers approval - some of which is slightly surprised since I have a history of falling for not the greatest guys.
Friend approval # 1: check.
Now, there are a couple of people that will be TOUGH friend approvals with boys. The first of which is my best friend from high school who is an army guy now. Granted he's grown up a lot thanks to the army, being married for almost 3 years and having a baby on the way, but he's still protective of me.
Needless to say when he's home for a brief 2-week stay before deploying to Kuwait, I worry that he'll do or say something that we'll both regret on the Wednesday night that he and his wife come over to see me and I know DD is coming over later as well.
Shock # 2 that DD shows up and hits it off with my army buddy! What?! Are you a mutant man from the land of good boyfriends? Why haven't you been discovered??
I'm not sure, but it strangely makes me both thrilled and MORE skeptical at the same time. This is the cynic in me. I assume since he appears to have nothing wrong with him that the "wrong" thing just hasn't manifested itself yet.
Makes sense, right?
Or not.
Needless to say, this is where we stand:
Good conversation: check
Good sex: check
Friend approval: check
Kid approval : half check (he's met mine but I haven't met him)
Geographic convenience: check
Job: half check (he has a job but it's a band-aid job, he doesn't finish his degree program until December).
Looks promising, folks, looks REEEEEAL promising.
Friend approval is vital for me. With my first boyfriend - who very few of my friends liked - I was stubbornly resistant to the idea that friend approval wasn't key, objective, and a clear step in the process.
Having won over DD's bestie from high school and HIS girlfriend at the Royals game, it seemed natural that the next night at our roller derby date we should meet a bulk of the "crew" that I spend my time with.
Now, what I didn't anticipate was DD gravitating towards my latest ex, who happens to be roommates with my best friend's boyfriend (follow that?) This Ex - who I wish I could find a nickname for since he gives EVERYONE's nicknames - is a reporter and thus, a great first person to meet. However, after 15 minutes I find myself texting my sister: "I think [DD] and [Ex-Boyfriend] are on a first date. I'm just sitting here."
It's only after the derby (which was DD's first) that we retire to a local bar that we spend many a weekend night at that things really get good. DD, I discover, is funny to other people too! My judgement isn't impaired! My best friend's boyfriend laughs at solidly 3 or 4 of DD's jokes - none of which are assuming or polarizing.
When he goes to the restroom, I immediately ask the table "what do you think!?"
Everyone offers approval - some of which is slightly surprised since I have a history of falling for not the greatest guys.
Friend approval # 1: check.
Now, there are a couple of people that will be TOUGH friend approvals with boys. The first of which is my best friend from high school who is an army guy now. Granted he's grown up a lot thanks to the army, being married for almost 3 years and having a baby on the way, but he's still protective of me.
Needless to say when he's home for a brief 2-week stay before deploying to Kuwait, I worry that he'll do or say something that we'll both regret on the Wednesday night that he and his wife come over to see me and I know DD is coming over later as well.
Shock # 2 that DD shows up and hits it off with my army buddy! What?! Are you a mutant man from the land of good boyfriends? Why haven't you been discovered??
I'm not sure, but it strangely makes me both thrilled and MORE skeptical at the same time. This is the cynic in me. I assume since he appears to have nothing wrong with him that the "wrong" thing just hasn't manifested itself yet.
Makes sense, right?
Or not.
Needless to say, this is where we stand:
Good conversation: check
Good sex: check
Friend approval: check
Kid approval : half check (he's met mine but I haven't met him)
Geographic convenience: check
Job: half check (he has a job but it's a band-aid job, he doesn't finish his degree program until December).
Looks promising, folks, looks REEEEEAL promising.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Total Rewind # 2: Record Breaking Man Sightings and Big Steps
So, having had a veritable sex marathon over the course of the weekend, I'm surprised to find myself allowing DD to come over the following Wednesday night after my son is asleep. This night though, I pick his brain ad nauseum about dating with children - his experience with his own kids and his experience dating other women with children. He tells me that most women aren't as protective of their children and meeting a man/date/whatever as I am.
"Then you're dating idiots" I say.
This makes him laugh. "I didn't say it was RIGHT."
"It's not right" I say indignantly, and go on to spew what all the literature and books have told me. My personal bible "Sex and the Single Mom: A Guide to Dating, Mating and Relating" gets the most air time. When I get off my soapbox, I look at him though to see him smiling as if I've done something cute. This annoys me a little, but I try to stay calm.
"It's uncharted territory for me. And a little bit of a chicken and the egg situation in terms of...well, I don't want to introduce my son to just anyone BUT I also don't want to fall for somebody and then have them not like my kid. Because that's a dealbreaker. Plain and simple."
Friday morning rolls around - we've made a date for Saturday night to go to the roller derby with my friends.
I get a text:
"Do you want to go to the Royals game tonight? Buck night, fireworks...could be fun!"
This sounds awesome, but...
"I would love to! But, since we're going out tomorrow night and I have to work tomorrow, I need to hang with [my son] tonight."
I know he'll understand this.
"No pressure...and you can introduce me as a friend...but the ball field is a great place for little people."
I find myself with a strange lack of hesitation and immediately reply "well, if you don't mind him coming along, we're in!"
If there's a way to a single mother's heart, it's most rapidly achieved through a great date with her kid involved.
We have a fabulous time at the baseball field. DD is not only good with my son, but I have this glimpse as he holds him and I pay for a Royals shirt and as he puts the carseat in of what life might have been like if I had had help raising my son so far. Help...what would that have been like?
It's nice, but neither obtrusive nor makes me too melty. He's respectful the whole evening of his behavior towards me and when we come home and I put Peyton to sleep, that's when he kisses me for the first time. It's perfect. He doesn't stay the night that night - we're both exhausted.
It's official: I am in like.
"Then you're dating idiots" I say.
This makes him laugh. "I didn't say it was RIGHT."
"It's not right" I say indignantly, and go on to spew what all the literature and books have told me. My personal bible "Sex and the Single Mom: A Guide to Dating, Mating and Relating" gets the most air time. When I get off my soapbox, I look at him though to see him smiling as if I've done something cute. This annoys me a little, but I try to stay calm.
"It's uncharted territory for me. And a little bit of a chicken and the egg situation in terms of...well, I don't want to introduce my son to just anyone BUT I also don't want to fall for somebody and then have them not like my kid. Because that's a dealbreaker. Plain and simple."
Friday morning rolls around - we've made a date for Saturday night to go to the roller derby with my friends.
I get a text:
"Do you want to go to the Royals game tonight? Buck night, fireworks...could be fun!"
This sounds awesome, but...
"I would love to! But, since we're going out tomorrow night and I have to work tomorrow, I need to hang with [my son] tonight."
I know he'll understand this.
"No pressure...and you can introduce me as a friend...but the ball field is a great place for little people."
I find myself with a strange lack of hesitation and immediately reply "well, if you don't mind him coming along, we're in!"
If there's a way to a single mother's heart, it's most rapidly achieved through a great date with her kid involved.
We have a fabulous time at the baseball field. DD is not only good with my son, but I have this glimpse as he holds him and I pay for a Royals shirt and as he puts the carseat in of what life might have been like if I had had help raising my son so far. Help...what would that have been like?
It's nice, but neither obtrusive nor makes me too melty. He's respectful the whole evening of his behavior towards me and when we come home and I put Peyton to sleep, that's when he kisses me for the first time. It's perfect. He doesn't stay the night that night - we're both exhausted.
It's official: I am in like.
Total Rewind # 1: Let's just chat about this vasectomy thing, shall we?
I could make this the world' longest post to cover the last two weeks, but I think that I will break it up in chapters. Let's start with going back over the highlights that I covered all too briefly earlier - which was the third date with DD.
To refresh, I had booted SmartyPants to the curb on a Thursday after a very successful day-date with DD over lunch on a Wednesday. DD and I made plans to go bowling (with the necessary disclaimers in place regarding my atrocious bowling abilities) on Saturday night - the night which my son was spending with his grandparents. A whole night. To myself. I knew it was going to be trouble. I felt it in my bones.
And then he showed up with flowers.
Let me just talk about flowers for a second. That first love of my life guy had a ridiculous opinion on flowers being a waste of money since they died a few days later. He also didn't believe in cards. I love cards. It's the THOUGHT behind them that counts, not the longevity. You build something by a card or a gesture. There's a reason that he and I didn't make it. I'm far less romantic thanks to my relationship with him, and to watch him age and start making home-cooked dinners and mixed tapes for subsequent girlfriends made me believe in some sort of relationship trait swapping that occurs between two people. More on that later.
The flowers make me swoon. No joke. Grin on my face, can't contain my happiness, think that I might hear angel choirs swooning.
Bowling is fun. We both suck. We play two games and each win one and then head to the bowling alley bar to chat over a pitcher for a long time about relationships and past relationships. I learn he was married for 8 years at a very young age. His ex wife is a couple of years older than him. He had a great relationship with her as the mother of his children. This is key. There's no bitterness. He admits that his first real heartbreak was NOT his wife but a subsequent long-term relationship - of which he's had two since his wife, each lasting about 1.5 years. I do this math and start to peg him as a relationship guy, until he talks/references all the different type of women he's dated and what he's looking for and realize he's definitely 33 and has been around the block a few times and I should shut up and listen.
We talk about our kids. A lot. I love this. It makes me like him more to hear him go on about how important being a dad is and the things he loves about his kids.
We end up back at my house and I make us both a couple of VERY strong gin and tonics which reminds me briefly of my last boyfriend with whom I had a similar scenario. This was the same night I had discovered with him what sexual incompatibility was - something I hadn't experienced before. (I have a brief flashback to a humbling moment of BJ failure which I quickly try not to think about even as the words "it's not you" echo through my skull)
We chat some more until finally we're just sort of smiling like idiots at one another and he finally kisses me. Kissing begets more kissing...and before I know it we're retreating from the couch to my bedroom, clothes trail being created in movie-esque fashion (I'm not sure how this happened - I blame the beer)
I'll spare you the gory details except to say that things escalate until I remember my brain and my son and pause in the half-second before anything REALLY serious might happen to say, responsibly, "do you have something?"
This is an awkward question. It always will be. And I don't want to go dig in my bathroom cabinet for the surely expired condoms that are hiding down there from days gone by. I'd just like for there to be some new code - maybe not even a verbal one - that responsible adults can avoid breaking a hot moment with this clunky question.
"yes..." he says, but I hear the "but" coming before it escapes his lips and feel myself brace myself for some sort of bomb.
"Yes..." he says "but, I guess I should go ahead and tell you this before we go any further....I've had a vasectomy."
I pause and consider this briefly.
"So, did you ever want to have more kids?" he asks hesitantly, as if this is a dealbreaker question.
Oh, no no no.
"Are we going to have this conversation now?" I ask. "On a third date? In the half second before sex? Could we table the "are we having children?" conversation for the fifth date?"
"It's been an issue before," he persists, clearly looking for validation.
I'm fumbling, sex high receding.
"I don't know...I mean, I never thought about it except that I guess I always thought that I'd have more kids. Not tomorrow, but...someday. Are you...you have no desire to have more children," I say awkwardly.
"Well, I had it done after my girls were born. I'm not saying never...just that it would take some planning...and some science," he says.
I'm naked, in the dark, and talking about having children with a man I only sort of know via artificial insemination. It doesn't get anymore real than this, folks.
"You know, honestly, a planned pregnancy would be a nice change of pace for me," I joke. "And...actually...the first thing I thought when you said that you had a vasectomy...for a girl that people look at funny and gets pregnant...is "hot damn! he can't get me pregnant" That's just where MY brain is at...here...right now...on date 3."
That seems to satisfy him and thus ended by very very long period of voluntary abstinence.
Now, date 3 is freakin' speedy considering that I did not sleep with my last boyfriend for our entire relationship due to my hang ups with the motherhood/sex issues.
It just...felt right though.
It felt right again the next morning before I kicked him out unceremoniously so that I could go retrieve my son.
...And the next night when I had a brain clot and allowed him to come over after my son was asleep. Seeing somebody twice in two days? UNHEARD OF.
We stayed up late chatting, fell asleep and then he was up and out of my house before my son was awake given that I'd told him "I don't have a plan of action where this is concerned for a 2 year old. and I don't want him to walk in here and have to explain your presence."
Strangely, he seemed to understand this personal dilemma.
And that made me like him even more.
To refresh, I had booted SmartyPants to the curb on a Thursday after a very successful day-date with DD over lunch on a Wednesday. DD and I made plans to go bowling (with the necessary disclaimers in place regarding my atrocious bowling abilities) on Saturday night - the night which my son was spending with his grandparents. A whole night. To myself. I knew it was going to be trouble. I felt it in my bones.
And then he showed up with flowers.
Let me just talk about flowers for a second. That first love of my life guy had a ridiculous opinion on flowers being a waste of money since they died a few days later. He also didn't believe in cards. I love cards. It's the THOUGHT behind them that counts, not the longevity. You build something by a card or a gesture. There's a reason that he and I didn't make it. I'm far less romantic thanks to my relationship with him, and to watch him age and start making home-cooked dinners and mixed tapes for subsequent girlfriends made me believe in some sort of relationship trait swapping that occurs between two people. More on that later.
The flowers make me swoon. No joke. Grin on my face, can't contain my happiness, think that I might hear angel choirs swooning.
Bowling is fun. We both suck. We play two games and each win one and then head to the bowling alley bar to chat over a pitcher for a long time about relationships and past relationships. I learn he was married for 8 years at a very young age. His ex wife is a couple of years older than him. He had a great relationship with her as the mother of his children. This is key. There's no bitterness. He admits that his first real heartbreak was NOT his wife but a subsequent long-term relationship - of which he's had two since his wife, each lasting about 1.5 years. I do this math and start to peg him as a relationship guy, until he talks/references all the different type of women he's dated and what he's looking for and realize he's definitely 33 and has been around the block a few times and I should shut up and listen.
We talk about our kids. A lot. I love this. It makes me like him more to hear him go on about how important being a dad is and the things he loves about his kids.
We end up back at my house and I make us both a couple of VERY strong gin and tonics which reminds me briefly of my last boyfriend with whom I had a similar scenario. This was the same night I had discovered with him what sexual incompatibility was - something I hadn't experienced before. (I have a brief flashback to a humbling moment of BJ failure which I quickly try not to think about even as the words "it's not you" echo through my skull)
We chat some more until finally we're just sort of smiling like idiots at one another and he finally kisses me. Kissing begets more kissing...and before I know it we're retreating from the couch to my bedroom, clothes trail being created in movie-esque fashion (I'm not sure how this happened - I blame the beer)
I'll spare you the gory details except to say that things escalate until I remember my brain and my son and pause in the half-second before anything REALLY serious might happen to say, responsibly, "do you have something?"
This is an awkward question. It always will be. And I don't want to go dig in my bathroom cabinet for the surely expired condoms that are hiding down there from days gone by. I'd just like for there to be some new code - maybe not even a verbal one - that responsible adults can avoid breaking a hot moment with this clunky question.
"yes..." he says, but I hear the "but" coming before it escapes his lips and feel myself brace myself for some sort of bomb.
"Yes..." he says "but, I guess I should go ahead and tell you this before we go any further....I've had a vasectomy."
I pause and consider this briefly.
"So, did you ever want to have more kids?" he asks hesitantly, as if this is a dealbreaker question.
Oh, no no no.
"Are we going to have this conversation now?" I ask. "On a third date? In the half second before sex? Could we table the "are we having children?" conversation for the fifth date?"
"It's been an issue before," he persists, clearly looking for validation.
I'm fumbling, sex high receding.
"I don't know...I mean, I never thought about it except that I guess I always thought that I'd have more kids. Not tomorrow, but...someday. Are you...you have no desire to have more children," I say awkwardly.
"Well, I had it done after my girls were born. I'm not saying never...just that it would take some planning...and some science," he says.
I'm naked, in the dark, and talking about having children with a man I only sort of know via artificial insemination. It doesn't get anymore real than this, folks.
"You know, honestly, a planned pregnancy would be a nice change of pace for me," I joke. "And...actually...the first thing I thought when you said that you had a vasectomy...for a girl that people look at funny and gets pregnant...is "hot damn! he can't get me pregnant" That's just where MY brain is at...here...right now...on date 3."
That seems to satisfy him and thus ended by very very long period of voluntary abstinence.
Now, date 3 is freakin' speedy considering that I did not sleep with my last boyfriend for our entire relationship due to my hang ups with the motherhood/sex issues.
It just...felt right though.
It felt right again the next morning before I kicked him out unceremoniously so that I could go retrieve my son.
...And the next night when I had a brain clot and allowed him to come over after my son was asleep. Seeing somebody twice in two days? UNHEARD OF.
We stayed up late chatting, fell asleep and then he was up and out of my house before my son was awake given that I'd told him "I don't have a plan of action where this is concerned for a 2 year old. and I don't want him to walk in here and have to explain your presence."
Strangely, he seemed to understand this personal dilemma.
And that made me like him even more.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Sass Nugget # 2
There is a long post well overdue about the last two weeks. So little time though.
In the meantime:
"So, do you have any venereal diseases I should know about? I realize I should have had this conversation two weeks ago, but better late than never."
(laughter) "No, I'm clean."
"Oh, good. It would really dampen the romance if I found out that you gave me the herp. That little present might counteract the flowers."
In the meantime:
"So, do you have any venereal diseases I should know about? I realize I should have had this conversation two weeks ago, but better late than never."
(laughter) "No, I'm clean."
"Oh, good. It would really dampen the romance if I found out that you gave me the herp. That little present might counteract the flowers."
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Sex and flowers
I have fresh flowers on my kitchen counter.
More importantly, I got laid tonight.
Those are the only two things I can think of to say at 5 AM.
Oh.
It was magnificent.
More later.
HALLELUJAH!
More importantly, I got laid tonight.
Those are the only two things I can think of to say at 5 AM.
Oh.
It was magnificent.
More later.
HALLELUJAH!
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