Statsis

I almost went out with the Republican again. I knew it was a bad idea the whole time, but he got under my skin. Then he asked how something made me feel, and I told him and he got all pissy and said "I had a lot to think about, and think about it and text message me tomorrow" and that was just too much for me. If he didn't want to know how I felt, he shouldn't have asked. So I canceled, but it amazes me how hard it was to do that.

But, The Ethicist in The New York Times' Sunday Magazine for tomorrow confirmed what I felt (and I was no where near 'rage'--fear and concern were more like it):

A lover’s feelings, even rage, ought not be so crudely suppressed. Quite the contrary, intimate partners should be free to reveal themselves, to be known and understood. ... If you are to cultivate a close connection to another person, you should not promote a plan that discourages her from confiding her feelings or from disclosing herself.

Even as I intellectually demand that for myself, I don't emotionally buy it. Emotionally, I feel like I'm too much work, too much angst. And yet, I could never be in a relationship where I didn't feel comfortable, no, more, encouraged, to express my feelings. (And I express my feelings pretty well!)

A couple of other interesting things:

I was embarrassed to blog that I was going out with the Republican again, on the off chance that either John or Steven read this. I don't want them to know my weaknesses. That affects the whole energy of the blog. Maybe I should cancel this one and start something under another name, or give this up all together. I'm leaning towards the latter. Having an active blog is different than having once had a blog that you deleted, and I feel like if I'm going to give the vanilla guy (or guys) a real shot, I need to actually do that.

I think Steven read a posting I wrote long ago, on a message board, about loving to have a man seduce me out of my clothes. I'm, not sure, but I had a flash that that was why he did. Which was one of the most lovely, loving things anyone has ever done for me. He's the only man that's ever really cared what I wanted.

I don't seem to to do well with dates on Saturday nights that involve me getting more naked. John, Steven and the Republican all fell apart on that. (For some reason, I seem to do well with dates on Monday nights--but that is a low-key night--very different expectations.) In part, I think that, with the exception of Steven, it was too fast for me. But also because I don't like to work that way. I'd rather have an evening and see where it unfolds. For me to say "I'll do x, y & z," when those are difficult things and the whole relationship is hurtling along too fast for my comfort, well, that changes the energy. I want to be seduced, not depositioned and committed. But in all instances, if the man hadn't done the honorable thing, which is setting what are expectations are beforehand, so I won't have regrets and having good communication, it would have been much easier for me, and I, in all honesty, would have gone where he led. It doesn't say much for my feminism. Sex can't always be put in neat little labels.

So, I spose I'm in holding mode. There are a couple of sweet vanilla men out there. I think I need to spend more time there. But I ache to surrender.