Trying to Date

A man who a) lives in the same city as me and b) is cute and c) seemed pretty darn compatible just turned me down, after we made plans to meet, because I wouldn't give him my phone number. I told him why I don't give out my number (one of the more hellacious on-line-seeping-horribly-into-real-life-experiences, but I don't write about it because the cops said this was the only case they'd heard like it and I don't want to publicize a technique for men being horrid to women).

Anyway, it really bothered me. I seem to be at this place where I want men to protect me and I believe men should protect women. Before I always felt like women could take care of themselves, but I don't feel that anymore. I'm glad I realized so quickly he wouldn't respect what I need. But it bothered me more than it should.

In an attempt to move on with my life, I'm forcing myself to flirt and trying to be open. It is harder than it has ever been. I have little tolerance for twits (one guy would only chat if I got yahoo. I refused with no regrets, but that is totally not like me!).

I have been flirting with 2 men. We'll call one of them "Colorado" and the other one "Suburbs." (Gee, I wonder how I came up with those names?) Both are openly into D/s and read the innuendo in my profile, but there the similarities end.

On paper, Suburbs would seem like the better bet, and not just because he lives 15 miles from me, but continuing to flirt with him feels like an obligation. Nothing fun about it at all. He is relatively handsome, but not intellectually curious. Worse, he jumped straight into the capital letters/lower case letters thing (which is a convention some people in the D/s community use to show who is Dominant and who is submissive) and I abhor that. There have been a very few moments where it was fun (and only when men asked permission to do it and had a sweetness to it), but mostly I find it boorish and annoying.

As soon as men do it , it immediately gets my hackles up. I really want a man who will meet me as equals, dance as equals, and only lead when it is appropriate. Men who demand the lead too soon, it is all wrong. I used to tolerate it, and now it just sends my danger signals up.

"Suburbs" also seems to have the problems I associate with the suburbs. (I hate the suburbs. I get affluenza very easily, and for me it does really send me into a depression until I get out. That mixture of restlessness and aimlessness assuaged only by consumption is really toxic to my system.) We have nothing in common that I can see, aside from the kink. He is into conspicuous consumption, and I suppose I am too, but of a very different sort. I'm totally happy to buy classes, trips, experiences. And I know those all cost money, but it just isn't the same to me as a car, or the latest apple gadget. Things you can buy bore me (although experiences you can buy don't.)

I seemed to have scared "Suburbs" off anyway--he said "ask me anything" so I did:

What do you get the most excited about? What makes your eyes light up? Do you like people who talk quickly or slowly? What do you most like about your current life and what would you most like to change? What are you looking for and what have you found?

Evidently--I'm too intense for Suburbs. And for most people. But I kind of knew that already. I'm trying to figure out if I just wasn't into him because he seemed available, but I don't think that's the case.

Meanwhile, there is Colorado. I'm not particularly attracted to him on a physical level, but we keep having lovely conversations. I started talking to him in an attempt to get out of my post-John funk. We've acknowledged the D/s interest, and that we live too far away, but we just keep chatting, and I'm really enjoying our conversations. We seem to go a little deep--not a lot, but we keep touching on the introspective sides. He and I have remarkably similar professions, and it is fun seeing things from his angle. We also seem to have similar values.

Part of me is looking for a fling as I think it is the only way to get John out of my system. And I think 'well, why not? There's no danger of me becoming too attached in the long run" but maybe there is. My ex wasn't my physical type either. But if the other parts of our relationship had worked, that wouldn't have mattered. I don't want a long-distance relationship. But I suppose it would be better than pining over John. I doubt, seriously, that anything would come of it. But it is good for me to start the process of moving on.

Confiar

In Spanish, Confiar means “to confide in” and “to rely on.” And for me, the two really are the same. It isn’t possible to separate them. As I started to confide in my blog, I relied on it. I’m embarrassed that I care about the occasional comment. The mere fact that occasionally people write is a form of acceptance. And as I started to confide in John, that was far, far more. It was an embrace and a dance.

If there are any long-time readers, you can save yourself some time by just remembering the blog from a little over a year ago. This is three moments from the last day (my internet is out, and oh, is this a difficult time for my internet to be out!) It is less intense this time, but in a way more devastating, because, well it was much more of me and there was just about nothing left of my public persona. I completely misunderstood John. I thought he was seriously considering us. I thought he thought that I was someone he wanted to play ‘for keeps’ with. And he does want to want to, but he doesn’t want to, if that makes sense. Intellectually, I’m what he wants, but something isn’t right. He likes hanging out and he’s open to keeping a finger in the wind, to see if it changes. He said: “All the ingredients are there. I don’t understand why it’s not soup.” I was everything he told himself he wanted. But it wasn’t enough.

And that is one of the most devastating things anyone has ever said. I know John would say this is absolutely not what he means. But to me, what it says is: “Wow--you are right. I totally thought you were wrong, but having taken the time to get to really know all of you--I can’t love you.” I believe he would say, "I want to give it time to see if something changes.” And if (when) it doesn’t work I expect he would say: “it isn’t you--it’s just us. You’re actually pretty amazing.”

I still think, though, if John and I were physically intimate, it would gel. I do believe that is the missing ingredient--the cornstarch if you will. But he doesn’t, and he isn’t willing to try and see. And I do appreciate that he doesn’t want to hurt me (as if that were possible, but still--he could hurt me more). He can’t be physically intimate with me, unless he knows we’ll work, and I don’t believe we can know that unless we’re physically intimate. He thinks time might solve it. I think sex probably would.

But it isn’t time I’m scared to give. I feel like, with him, I was a butterfly, living on the end of a pin in a display case. Leaving means ripping part of my soul out from under that pin. Staying means confirming my worst fear about myself. It means trading the possibility for a soul mate for a good friendship.

I regret little. I had to try and see if things would work, or I wouldn’t be able to let go of John (not that I know how I'd do that right now) and I’d have massive regrets at being scared to try. I can’t regret not playing games because the authenticity of our friendship is what brought it value. I do regret that I couldn’t be the person he saw on that first date, the only time he has referred to me as his girlfriend. But, re-reading our correspondence, I really couldn’t. We met because he really wanted to explore S&M and there were several things he said that would freak me out if he said them today. I do believe I was right then even if I wish I were different.

I think, and I don’t think it is just me reacting in pain, I think I can’t do this anymore. I can’t want something that I’m obviously never going to have. And I don’t mean “John.” I mean a life-partner. Did you ever see that Judy Dench movie where she plays an old spinster school teacher, and talked about the aching loneliness of not being touched for decades? Maybe she would be happier if she hadn’t hoped for something more. Maybe it is the act of wanting more that makes the pain so much greater. There’s one man I promised a month ago I’d go out with when he gets back from Japan in a couple of weeks. And then, I think, that’s it. No more dating for me. I’m too tired and too broken. Of course, if I meet someone in a bookstore, and we’re both reading the same thing and start a conversation and magic happens, I’ll be open. But I don’t believe in magic.
I can’t be satisfied with someone like my ex. I just can’t. Even if he had been kinder in bed, it wouldn’t have worked. I need someone care about me, to want to plumb the depths of introspection, to be truly, vitally, alive. Or I can’t be with him. It might work for a year. But not for a life. And so maybe, I need to just let go of that dream. To know that it doesn’t happen to people like me. Our society is too fucked up. A fraction of a single percent of men would explore the introspection that is far more vital to me than I care to admit. Maybe I just need to hire a shrink and a masseuse. Pay someone to care about my feelings and someone to touch me, and to find other things in my life to focus on. Get a dog. Dogs always love.

My astrologist (yes, I go to an astrologist once a year, and he’s great and it is very helpful) said that the great love of my life appears in 2011. Now, I’ve never really believed in astrology for dates, as much as “you tend to gravitate towards this.” But it certainly seems it is not happening in the near future. It would be nice to know that I do get to have a great love in my life. But if I want a family, that’s too late. I don’t need a family. But I can’t live with my life on hold for 3 years, hoping an astrologist is right.

“It’s just not fair!” screams the 8-year old. “What did you expect?” snorts the teenager; “Life’s a bitch.” “No, it is the patriarchal system that objectifies women and makes it impossible to have a joining of equals” shouts the 20-something feminist. “John is a good man, destroyed. He had no problem dating women he didn’t view as equals, or even calling you his ‘girlfriend’ before he knew you well enough to know who you were. But the patriarchy has destroyed the chance for men to love equals. There’s nothing wrong with you. It is the system.” But the nearly 40-year-old woman says: “I don’t care if it is the system or me; I can’t change the system and the end result is the same. I’m unlovable.”

Women like me, women who don’t fit in, who buck social trends, who are too smart for their own good and don’t fit societal beauty norms, who demand authenticity, and who could never respect a man she manipulated by adhering to “The Rules,” we have to find another way. In today’s society, most men want someone cute who doesn’t challenge them. I know the games women are supposed to play. I just harbored hopes that it wasn’t actually necessary. That an exceptional man would embrace the chance for something more. Not just intellectually--viscerally.

The women John has dated (funny enough, the names I know all start with “J”s)--the J-Girls have one major thing in common: they were damsels in distress whom he saved. When he realized they were using him, he was deeply hurt. He wanted someone to love him for him, and not for his money. He doesn’t like his pattern, and he recognizes it. But recognizing it isn’t enough to change it.

And I’m not only not a damsel in distress, I also didn’t play hard to get. I looked at him and said “wow--one in a million. Wow.” And I let him know it. I kept dating other men--mostly because I thought I had to. I thought if I didn’t, I’d get clingy and it would destroy our chance. But they became less frequent because I knew I couldn’t bond with someone else if John were in my life and I felt like I was using them.

My ex and I both compromised and said “Sure--it’s as close to soup as we’ll get.” And that’s a disaster. John is right to demand authenticity.

I hope like hell Maslow (as in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs) is wrong and I can develop self-actualization without love. The twenty-something feminist would say that Maslow is only reinscribing the patriarchal obligations. But I’m scared Maslow’s right. I’ve never been able to do it. But to hope, and to wait for, is just too painful. I’d rather be wistful than bitter.

Looks as Currency

I went to my brother's New Year's Eve party (with my parents). All my brother's friends are guys and they all have stunning beautiful, annoying, bitchy, shallow girlfriends

The next day, both my parents were totally attacking thses women--how awful the women of my brother's age (he's almost 10 years younger than me). How shallow the women are. How did such lovely men get taken advantage of by such horrible women?

I had a very different reaction. I wondered why these men were so shallow that looks became the only thing that mattered in their girlfriends. These men are accomplished (finishing PhDs), but not super-wealthy or glamarous types. They drive Priuses and are very much in the socio-economic group that finds Priuses to the car-du-jour. The future college professors of the world. If the only thing they care about are looks, to the point that they will date (and plan on marrying) women who seem more like some reality TV show, who work in retail and talk about fashion, what hope is there for the world?

I don't know whether my brother's friends are representative of the late 20-somethings. My brother struggles with this because he knows he wants a partner who is in intellectual equal, who is spiritually grounded with strong progressive values, but she must be drop-dead gorgeous (preferably without make-up or time spent on her looks). But, ultimately, he's willing to compromise on everything but looks. 6 months ago he was dating a 19-year-old, who worked at Victoria's Secret. Unlike his friends, he couldn't imagine a life with her. But it's not like he'd ever consider dating one of the other doctoral candidates. They just aren't cute enough.

This, ultimately, is where feminism has no answers. Men have the power here because being alone is such a huge price to pay. And if men only care what women look like, then that does become hugely more important.

When my ex and I met, when we first met and I was about 10 feet away, he whisptered "wow" under his breath. He claims it wasn't a trick and he doesn't remember saying it. And I was far enough away that I didn't think he said it for my benefit. That little word worked SO well for me to just relax and be confident and comfortable with him. But the longer we were together, the more he'd make comments. He sat next to a 16 year old on a bus, in super short-shorts, and he talked about her thighs for a week after. I knew I could never match up.

John and I had a really interesting discussion about this. He seems to have a view of beauty much closer to that of Ricky in American Beauty than of the standard conventions. He notices me spark, but he also really appreciates a side of me I don't find attractive, the laxed, softer side. But John is an extraordinary gem. Truly one in a thousand. Yes, I probably actually have flirted with, talked with or dated a thousand guys. John is extraordinary.

Looks and Personality

So OKCupid (the only on-line dating site I currently do) has this thing called "Quickmatch" where you give each person 1-5 stars based on pics and a truncated profile.

I generally, if I like someone enough that I think I might have coffee, give at least 4, even if I don't think their looks really are a '4' because it doesn't matter if they're a 2 or a 3 if I think we'd click. (To me, a "1" is "someone I couldn't really think I could date for whatever reason".) If both people give the other one at least a 4 in any category, the site e-mails both to tell them.

The vast majority of the time, you get 2 e-mails--one for looks and one for personality both being 4 or 5 stars. And, honestly, nothing more ever happens than that. I never e-mail 'cause I figure if he were interested, he'd e-mail me. And that's that.

So the really weird thing is, I've been getting a few of these where the guy likes my looks and not my personality! And even weirder--younger, cuter guys like my looks and older guys who aren't as cute like personality. Tonight, a 30 year old, very handsome Indian man liked my looks. And honestly, if he'd liked my personality too, I might have dropped him a note. He has a lively, light-filled, vibrant face and an engaged, grounded profile. Meanwhile a not-nearly-as-handsome 41 year old liked my personality. They were both the same height. The 41 year old has a lot less hair than the 30 year old and a look from the 70s. All of which might have been OK, except I'm not cute enough for him!

And I'm like--what the heck is going on? On two levels. The first is, I'd say I'm totally in the 41 year old's league, but there are a lot of older men out there who are far more picky about looks than the men in their 30s. Weird. And I wouldn't think I'd be in the 30 year old's league (not just based on age--I tend to prefer men my own age or a little older--the 30 year old is much more handsome).

Now, I expect men to reject me for my looks. That doesn't surprise me. But to like my looks and not like what I've written, that actually really surprises me. It doesn't surprise me that someone would not like my personality once we've met. I can be pretty intense. Say, just as a hypothetical example, if someone was a Republican and voted for McCain and started explaining that Sarah Palin was qualified, in some way, and I starting laughing and got some mimosa in my nose, and it burnt a little and tickled a little and, with the alcohol, I just couldn't stop laughing and then tried to stop, but then was like stifling a laugh at the whole Palin=qualified thing. And he actually thought she was qualified. Yeah, I could see why someone might not like it.

But my personality in my profile is, like, really damn good! Like a few people e-mailing me to say it's the best profile they've ever read good. I mean, I know how to occasionally use the keyboard.

So the whole thing just startles me.

Meanwhile, on the "John" front, we resolved our heated argument. I wish I could say we 'kissed and made up" but the kiss part didn't happen. I'm really proud of myself for telling him what I needed. A couple of other times similar things happened and I didn't because I didn't want to be demanding. But, if any friend I hadn't been romantically interested had done something similar, I'd be like "Hey--I need this." But he stuck through it with me. And I care about him more than ever. I just keep feeling like, well, why would he be willing to process an argument if he doesn't care. At least on some level? Why would he waste his time with me, if he doesn't care?

And I have this absolute fear that I'll finally meet someone I sort of like, and start going out with this other person, and then, just as I start to get emotionally sticky with this new guy, John will read my old blog postings at two the morning and it will turn out there was some misunderstanding and he and I will have missed each other again. And I will have to live with wondering what might have been for the rest of my life.

Stasis continues

Finally met Zachary. What a waste of energy. But I'm trying to figure out if I weren't still stuck on John if I'd be interested in Zachary. I don't think so, but it is possible.

He didn't remember stuff I'd told him 3 times. Important stuff. Like when I took a pill for pain, he asked what it was for and I was like "My ankle" and he was like "You hurt your ankle?" But I know I've told him that at least 2 and probably 4 times. And frankly, I didn't notice anything he had remembered from our conversations. Nothing built off the other conversations.

He believes in the 9-11 conspiracy theories with no evidence more than 'what I read on the internet.' I can't stand this sort of generalized paranoia that thinks Bush planned 9-11 (because he was just so competent he could pull something like that off?) and Cheney murders babies and drinks their blood. Anyone that makes me defend Bush makes me hate the person that forced me to do it. What is SO hard about having facts and evidence to back up your paranoia? He heard on the radio that there was a bomb the morning of 9-11 at the WTC so it must be true? Because no one reported wrong news that day?

It didn't help that his pictures were 10 years old. And I get paranoid if I don't have something less than 6 months up.

Instead of taking time with make-up this morning (I actually forgot to wear earrings!), I wrote John a long e-mail, saying something along the lines of 'look--I don't want you to read my blog in 4 months and find out we both wanted the same thing and we just messed it up again.' The secrets of a girl's 'drafts' folder. I broke up with my ex almost a month before he broke up with me, and never sent it. There are several e-mails to John there that, for better or worse, were never sent.

Funny things is, though, we went to a restaurant with lots of mirrors, and I looked really cute! I mean, really, really cute! My self image of myself is one of Renoir women. Plump, but beautiful and vulnerable. And I didn't really recognize myself. I wouldn't have called myself plump--just pretty cute!

A guy I'm nominally flirting with (if he lived less than 1,000 miles away, I wouldn't bother because he isn't my type--I eat meat and he doesn't think people should) said yesterday that I was 'totally doable' and it was a nice compliment. Not if he lived within dating distance, but outside of dating distance, it is.

So it is back to the status quo of adoring John and finding no one that can compare to him. Something will have to break the stasis. It always does. Life is not a Chekhov play.

Wow! Whoah! Wow!

In college I met the only man I regret not slipping with ;we'll call him "Zachary!" And we'll put the exclamation point at the end of his name, because he always did.

So Zachary! was married to a lesbian, in an open relationship (I think for financial reasons), and he pursued me for 3 years. And for a couple of months I flirted with him because, well, he was very seductive. One day he put a pencil up to my face as if to put on eyeliner under my eye, and I looked away from the pencil as he ran it along under my eye and managed to not blink. And then he ran his hand along my cheek and every cell in my body melted. One of the most intensely erotic, 'surrender' moments in my life.

And I kissed him once, and it was an amazing kiss. And then I freaked out. For two reasons, one is that I've never wanted an open relationship and two is that I thought I would get clingy and couldn't handle an open relationship. He is the only man I clearly had the opportunity to sleep with that I ever think about, that part of me regrets. Intellectually I think I probably made the right choice (for the second reason), but he appeared in my dreams repeatedly for a decade.

And this week, I've met another Zachary. Same name, same hair. Different man (who does believe that Monogamy is more than a Parker's Brothers' Board Game). We're having dinner on Monday. And this man has the depth of John. We've talked about things that matter. Hopes, vulnerabilities, successes and insecurities. (We're both shameless show-offs on our personal ads--we both have a photo with one of the top 100 celebrities in the world--although he actually worked with his celebrity and I just got a 5 minute conversation with mine. Oh, and I should say, I respect and admire my celebrity--I believe s/he's really important--it isn't just cynical star-fucking, but I just say 'celebrity' because otherwise it is too easy to figure out who she is.)

Zachary seems more vanilla than I am, but then I think maybe I'm more vanilla than I thought I was. And he totally agreed with the GGG label on my ad, so who knows?

And I'm like "What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fucking, fucking fuck" to quote Jerry Spring, the opera (not my celebrity). Damn damn damn damn. Now, chances are, it won't work. Chances are we'll meet and something will be off (he's a decade older than I am, but that seems OK). But it is SO confusing. It's the first time I've been excited to go on a date with someone since, well, John.

I adore John. I miss him. We haven't talked or e-mailed since Saturday, aside from a couple of little things, and I feel like life is a little less bubbly. If he and I have a chance to be together, ... I don't want to go off with some guy based on a few good e-mail and phone conversations. But I don't know what John wants. But I think he doesn't either, but it isn't me. If he wanted me, he'd know it.

Part of me thinks John wishes he could be attracted to me, but he's just not. That is the best rational explanation for his behaviour that I can deduce. Part of me feels like I'm cheating on him because emotionally I haven't been seeing other people, even when I've gone through the motions of like going on dates. I wish I could just sit him down and say "what's up?" but I think if I did that, it would destroy any chance we might have because emotionally, I feel like we might have a chance, even though my intellect screams "He's just not that into you."

Part of me, a cynical parts, says--play the field. Men are always more interested in someone that is harder to get. But there is a human toll, not just to me, but also to someone who seems like a good man. I wouldn't want to do that. I feel like I owe it to him to figure out exactly what is going on with John before I agree to see him, although I know that is silly. Dinner is not a commitment.

And, of course, if I did get involved with someone else, it might give John what I think he might want, which is me as a truly platonic friend with no pressures for a romantic relationship. If I were in a relationship with someone else, and I felt like John and I could be friends without flirting or hurting that relationship, I'd relish it. I just don't know if I can be attracted to other men if I'm seeing John at all.

It seems good to actually be mildly interested in someone. It is the first man since the Republican (aside from John), that I've been interested in. But what a mess!

Replaying old patterns or making new ones?

So, I lied to John last night. For probably the first time, I think. He said I seemed "highstrung" and asked if anything was wrong, and I said basically no. I wasn't even aware of lying--more of making the saying the 'least bad' thing. When in fact, the truth is, but I didn't even realize it till I slept through the night, is I have no idea if he's flirting with me (I think he is--I really, truly think he is), or just wants to be platonic friends (there are other times I think he does). But I want to kiss him so badly, I ache when I'm with him. But every time I've tried to take too much of an initiative with him, I've fucked it up, so I'm trying really hard not to push anything. To just see where it goes. And I'm terrified.

He continues to delight me and drive me crazy. Intellectually, I'm terrified of falling into the Edwin trap. I have so much fun with him, so much. But I just don't know that I can be platonic friends with him and not put the rest of my life romantic on hold. I'm not seeing other people much because I keep comparing other men to him and no one can compare. And now I'm like "if they haven't truly captured my interest and moved beyond banalities in 5 e-mails or one date, it just wouldn't work." I should mention that John is the only man who ever had an ad as introspective, insightful and clear (and long) as my own, so we started with a level of depth and just went deeper and deeper and deeper. But now it seems like we're different on e-mail (much more flirty) than in person (more vanilla and platonic).

I just can't tell if he'd consider me as a romantic partner. He does things that make me think he might, but then he does things that scream "He's just not that into you!" Especially the fact that he hasn't tried to be romantically involved with me since I couldn't keep up with him a year ago. If he were interested, I expect he'd make a move. And he's said things that imply he doesn't want a relationship with me, or maybe not exactly--can't handle one right now. The kind of things men say when they don't want to be with a gal, but it seems like he's genuine. I'm not sure. I just don't know.

I crave clarity. I crave us sitting down and talking things through and if he doesn't want a romantic relationship, I need to know. I need to force myself to stop thinking about him that way and see other people. Or sleep with my ex again, or something. But I know that that M.O. has never seemed to work for us. So I'm continually biting my tongue so that I won't do it. I would do anything I could to give us a chance to work and if biting my tongue at my incessant desire for clarity and focus gives us a chance, then so be it. Maybe he is trying to decide if he'd want to be with me, and I need to let him have the time to make that decision.

I have so much fun with him. And I think he has that with me. I know he could get someone much cuter than me. I'm just not in his league when it comes to looks. But over and over he's implied that he thinks I'm attractive, and whatever the issue is, it isn't looks. Which is odd. And scary, because my looks are what I think of as most wrong with me. I'm used to being rejected for not being pretty enough. And then the fact that I'm too strong of a personality, too opinionated. But he seems to not mind that. And then the fact that I have this compulsive need to peel away the surface and find the meaty issues underlying the facade. But he does that too; we match each other there. Intellectually, I know this is irrational. But emotionally, I'm like "well, my three biggest flaws aren't an issue for him, and there's still something wrong with me--how the hell do I fix that."

We played chess last night, and it was interesting because I reverted to the middle school kid who quit playing chess because she wasn't smart enough and lost every single game. And the way I play chess is kind of the way I date. I assume there's something deeply wrong with me and I'm going to fuck up. So instead of trying to find a way to win at chess (or be genuine with a partner who could truly love me for who I am and who I'm striving to be instead of who I pretend to be), I look for the 'least bad' move. Not that dating is chess (I hope!) but I do seem to have this underlying "I'm stupid/ugly" mentality for the two. But John let me win at chess. ;)

Thinking Back

This week has brought countless comparisons with 8 years ago. I don't know a lot of the Obama people, but when I find out about them, it's all good. 8 years ago, I didn't know who Bush's people were, but their records terrified me.

But, the real comparison for me, is 14-10 years ago, when Edmund was my best friend and I couldn't figure out what to do. I spent 4 years thinking we'd end up together. 4 years talking with him for 20 hours a week (or more!) on the phone, doing all the silly little things that couples do. And I swore I'd never do that again.

But you know what they say makes God laugh? Humans making plans. So here I am in a very similar situation.

I haven't figured out the role of this blog if John is in my life. I asked him to pick whether he'd read it or not, so at least I'd know, and he hasn't. But he said he isn't reading it right now.

Sometimes I feel like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction (not that I've seen the movie, but she's the scary stalker chick I always think of).

Sometimes I wonder if John would be more interested in me if I weren't so interested in him. I should go buy a copy of The Rules and stop just being myself. But that would wreck what I like so much about him--our honesty. Our clarity. Our vitality.

Deep down, my fear is that that he wishes he were attracted to me. He thinks it would be ideal if only I were prettier. He has never said anything to make a smidgen of evidence that that is the case. He has, on numerous occasions, complimented me looks. He takes photos of me that make me look lovely. But I can't think of any other reason that we wouldn't want to give this a try.

We have similar ways of finding joy. Similar ways of killing time. Our minds think in mutually simpatico ways. He's more visual than I am, far more able to frame an image and desiring to capture it (I've never been out with him when he hasn't taken his camera out, and he takes beautiful photos.) But on the stuff that matters--we're both introspective on a path that is parallel although not synonymous with psychoanalysis. Self-psychoanalysis if you will. We're both bright. Neither of us owns a TV. We both have an intellectual curiosity that is more focused on breadth than depth, although we both burrow in depth in whatever interests us that season and then move on. We both make silly puns. We find these silly/awkward moments when all the wiitwd stuff floods a moment with a second meaning and we're aware of it, but we never let that overwhelm everything else. Wiitwd is a subtextual spice--it is not the main ingredient. But I don't have to deny that part of me or feel like I must protect that vulnerability. It is safe to be vulnerable with him. Being with him is joyous.

He is thoughtful and playful and kind and considerate. He is a good man with an evil streak and he knows it and delights in it, and I believe would absolutely protect me from it.

I go deeper when I'm with him. And unlike any man I've ever been with, I don't self-censor. I didn't self-censor with my ex, but mostly that was because he didn't care much. I realized, I couldn't give him my blog URL because he wouldn't read it when it wasn't that much about him, and that would hurt.

So it is odd that I want to know whether John is reading this. And it is because I do self-censor with John. Not a lot, but a little. I think in some ways he takes for granted that he could have me anytime he wanted and I want to preserve a little mystery. A little semblance of having my life together. Of being intrigued without being obsessed. Not that I'm obsessed, but I am definitely smitten. OK, maybe I'm a little obsessed.

I have no idea if we're supposed to live happily ever after (although, if it were the two of us, I expect we wouldn't exactly qualify for the "No-Drama Obama" administration), but I just believe that we are supposed to be together. I don't know for how long. Maybe a month. Who knows?

But there is some reluctance on his part that I just don't understand. Twice now he has gone with someone else instead of me. I understood the first time. I don't understand the second time, and if it happens a third time, I'll be devastated, and far less capable, I fear, of opening up to another person. Not that I ever plan to get to know someone the way I got to know John. But I'm sure that certainity just makes God laugh.

Class and snobbiness

So I've been talking with a sweet, vanilla guy, that I've been enjoying . And then it turns out he is a fedex delivery guy. He wasn't exactly upfront with me about that, but my first reaction was that seemed like it would be a good fit with me. But I didn't want to be snobby, so I still planned on meeting him. He wants to teach karate. But he isn't yet a blackbelt, so it would be at least 4 years before that happened, and then he'd need the start-up money to get a studio. It seems like a very hard plan to have for a career.

But, then it turns out his ex-wife is paying him alimony. That totally threw me the wrong way. I could see being willing to pull more than half, but if it didn't work out, there's no way I would want to support him. They have no kids--why should she pay alimony (and yes, I would feel the same way if the genders were reversed. I can see alimony 30 years ago, and I can see it for a few years if one person helped the other through college. If Sarah worked as a secretary support Sam in college and then they split--sure, Sam can help Sarah get through college.) I've worked my butt off to get where I am. I work a second job around 3 nights a week to make a little extra. I love what I do, but I also made a lot of sacrifices to get here. He has sort of floated around, not committed to anything. Why should I risk supporting him? I know, I know. It would only be if we got married. And if we got married I could insist on a pre-nup. But if we got married, he would lose his alimony from his wife.

So, am I just being shallow here? My ex dropped out of high school, but he was more successful than I was and very smart. I was proud of what he did. It honestly was never an issue. Part of me thinks I should just be glad he's being open about this, but then I wonder if there's other stuff he hasn't disclosed. And the alimony thing just feels wrong to me.

Creepy old men

So I joined a new web site, PlentyOfFish. They have a feature where people can vote on how attractive your pictures are. You can turn this off, but for some reason I didn’t.

I originally put up a photo without makeup and had a guy in the 18-25 vote four and 3 guys in 33-40 vote 6. Then I changed it to a really cute picture with makeup. (This is a super, super cute photo--maybe the cutest photo I’ve had taken in my life. The camera is looking a little down on my. My hair is swinging and I have an impish charming smile. I’m in a party dress and you can tell my arms aren’t super thing, but it is a great photo.)

Here’s what the men voted on a scale of 10.

Average (33 votes): 5.21
18-25 (4 votes) 3.5
26-32 (5 votes) 4.4
33-40 (7 votes) 8.29
41+ (17 votes) 4.59

So this really seems weird. First of all, I’m kind of flattered by the 33-40 year olds. And surprised. The 18-25 year olds, they shouldn’t think I’m cute. I’m too old for them. But the 41+ is creepy. Now there are, I’m sure, 42 year olds who aren’t doing this, but, for the most part, what I’m seeing is much more judgment from older men. The number of older guys who have, out of the blue, contacted me to say mean things (really mean, like "You're stupid and ugly--why don't you give up") has really surprised me, and is a large part of the reason I left CollarMe. I never put a finger on it before (and, of course there are some very nice men who happen to be older than me that I’ve met along the way).

But what the hell is going on with these men? I mean why are there
a) so many older men checking me out (more than all the age groups under 41)
b) they are so much more judgmental than men my age?

I used to think if I dated an older guy he would be happier with my body, but I’m beginning to question that. (I should mention, I wish they had a better breakdown of age data--clearly a 43 year old is different than a 65 year old).

What if these older guys have never accepted that they are getting older? And they know they can't date teenagers anymore because the teenagers won't go out with them, but they are just angry at the women in their 30s for not looking like teenagers?

I also found it very interesting that about 5% of the men allow women to vote on their pics. And when men did, the men were SUPER-bitchy to the other men, giving them ones and two, but the women were super nice to the same guys--giving them 8s and 9s.

Over my Head?

So my ex and I have been hanging out more. Lovely evening last week. He took me to the restaurant I've always wanted to go to, and dropped numerous hints the entire time we lived together, but we never went. It is in a park, and we sat outside and had a lovely meal.

And then he said he didn't want to come over to my place. He said we either need to figure out if we're on the path to getting married, or if we just want to hang as buddies, but no more fooling around.

He also said, he had the conversation with himself about 'having another kid wouldn't be that bad.'

And he said "I can't have it on my conscious that I kept the love of my life from having kids."

Furthermore, he said he wouldn't be so selfish in the future, regardless of whether he got back together with me. He had this idea of D/s, but he has been doing more research, and he doesn't think anyone is able to actually make D/s work with his previous idea of it. That the Dom has to really take care of the sub's needs, not just except the sub's needs to disappear.

So. Whoa. And Wow. I don't know what I think or feel. First I'm touched and flattered he would even, in passing, call me the love of his life. I joked it off, but it meant a lot.

But I need to figure out what I want so I'm not using him, but I'm too confused to know what I want. I know that I enjoy being with him as friends. And I enjoy waking up in his arms. And for the last month, he really has been different with me. But I don't know that we've ever had great sex. At least for me. I know we have for him. But not me. We click intellectually, and that's a lot. I think I could fall for him again, if I let myself, but I have been very wary to do that.

So then we slept together last night. Sex, sex. Not just oral sex. And, again, he was lovely. Cherishing, adoring, tender, rough, demanding--all the good stuff rolled into one.

And after he left for work, I went back to bed. And had a dream about Michael. It wasn't even a good dream. He was dating a woman from Texas, but sort of wanted to check in with me to see how I was doing. But it wasn't like "drop everything--I realized I do want to be with you." And walking through the park today I went by a set of swings that Michael and I played on, and I could feel this sort of stab to my heart. I don't know how to let him go. I know I must. I know that if he were truly interested in me, he wouldn't e-mail, say "Let's go out for dinner and drinks" and then not e-mail for a week, then another e-mail a week later, then nothing for 2 weeks. A man that is interested in a woman, well he doesn't do that. But I don't understand why I'm still emotionally sticky towards him.

Part of it is that I'm still defended against my ex. He woke me up in the middle of the night to have sex a second time, and he was rough and demanding and it hurt and I remembered one of the reasons we broke up. I can't just let go and be with my ex as he is right now, without being suspicious that he will go back to how he was.

And maybe I'm just using Michael as a symbol of what I can't have. Maybe I'll never be satisfied with the possible. Or maybe I'm using Michael to not get in too deep with my ex. How knows. But somehow, I thought, we might end up together. I don't know why I adored him so much, or how to let that go. Part of me wants to e-mail him and just have it out with him. Not have a loose end. I hate loose ends.

But, maybe, just being with me ex, curling up in his arms, kisses and cuddles and conversations. Those will build. I'm sure of it. I'm much less reluctant now than I was. So who knows.

Through the Looking Glass

I slept with my ex Thursday. No sex-sex (which I define as vaginal or anal). But oral sex and other stuff. So here was my impression Friday:

He was sweet, kind, gentle. Dominated, but he didn't make my soul shudder or make me run away. He wants me back. But the weird thing is, as much as I enjoyed waking up in his arms. And I did enjoy waking up in his arms. I don't want to be with him permanently. I would be very happy to wake up in his arms a couple of times a week while we both continue to explore our own several ways.

When we broke up, I made him promise not to come after me for a quickie because I couldn't handle it emotionally. I didn't want to be emotionally sticky with him, wanted to get over him. But I'm more sticky with Michael than with my ex. And my ex is getting very sticky towards me. Part of me thinks I should just break it off because he is falling for me the way I fell for him when we first met, and I'm not falling for him the way he didn't fall for me when we first met. And I don't want to be unfair to him.

So it is Sunday. And I wish he'd call. I knew he had a date with a woman he has seen very occasionally for the last few months (she lives a hundred miles away, or so--but he fell for her very hard when they first met). And I know he probably had sex with her today. Phenomenal sex. And I know that she has left and he is alone right now, and I wish he'd call me. Not her, me.

Intellectually, I expect he'll be back. I'd lay odds he'll be back and I rarely bet. But I wouldn't lay odds that I'll keep from being sticky towards him. He is different than he was before. We fooled around once, a couple of months ago, and it got him out of my system. He was selfish and didn't take care of me. Exactly as he was when we dated.

But this week he transformed. Totally different. He had always forbidden me to cut my hair when we were together. When I cut about 6 inches after we stopped dating, he hated it, and let me know it. I cut off another 6 inches a couple of weeks ago and he grabbed my hair, in a way that made my knees weak and said 'look--there's still enough to grab' and kissed my throat. It was a way of saying--'you can be who you are--I love who you are becoming, and you can still come home to me.'

At one point, he edged towards a rough tone, and he could feel me retreating emotionally. Immediately he backed off. No panic attack on my part, no nothing except him picking up that I wasn't responding to his roughness. If we sleep together again this week, and if he is again thoughtful and kind, he will get under my skin. I can feel it already happening, in the change from my certainty that he wants me to wondering if he does, in my wishing he would call, in my having to not call him. He's the first man I've slept with since we broke up. And if I'd had an evening like that with anyone else, I'd be completely head over heels for him.

I don't even know what I want anymore. Maybe it is worth giving this a second chance.

Bitchiness v. Vulnerability

This pull has run through much of my interactions with men for the last few years. On the one hand, I want to be open, trusting and able to connect deeply. On the other hand I want to protect myself. Rightfully so.

The fact is, men create bitches. What I'm beginning to see is that men divide women into two categories: "hot" or "not." And the "not"s are most of the women, most of the time. When a 'not' becomes 'hot' to an individual guy, it is lovely (if he treats her nicely). I'm still a 'not' to 60% of the population (whereas I used to be a 'not' to 99% of the population). But, and I shouldn't say this, but it's true, in the kinky world, the standards are lower. Maybe I'm a 6 or a 7 in the vanilla world. But I'm a 9 in the kinky world.

(Since my weight and size comes up, I'm a size 14 or 16 (very rarely, a 12), depending on the manufacturer. This means I wear a large to extra large in the regular sizes. There was a time when I was bigger--size 20 at my height. It is a huge difference in how people treat me, but I don't feel any different! I don't exercise any more--I just moved from avoiding fat to avoiding carbs. Aside from my size, I'm actually pretty beautiful. And I photograph well.)

But men don't just create bitches. They like them. Just like women often fall for the 'bad-boy-with-a-heart-of-gold' (see Dirty Dancing, for example), men want the woman who is a bitch to everyone but him. I used to try to do all this work to stay open and vulnerable. To not be a bitch. To not let one man's inappropriate behavior impact how I dealt with another man. Lately, I've been saying "ah, to hell with it. Y'all are assholes unless you can prove to me you ain't." The thing that surprised me is how many more men are pursuing me than when I tried so hard not to be bitchy.

Of course, the other issue is that I've fallen a little for Michael. (Michael is someone I knew long ago who popped into my life more recently. I flirted with him long ago because I could tell he was kinky, but he had no clue I was. Recently, I dropped a hint that we were simpatico in that area, and he said a few things that indicated we might be more than just friends, but hasn't followed through with any of it.) Intellectually, I know how foolish it is. His actions (despite his words) bely any hope I might have. And I swore after Edmund that I wouldn't do that again!!!

So here I am. Bitchy on the outside. But sweet on the inside. Not interested in the guys that want me and pining for a guy that doesn't care. It'll be an interesting summer.

Way back when...

Had lunch with Edmund yesterday (if you care, Edmund was introduced last year in the "Can't We Just be Friends?" entry--given that I'd forgotten his nom de blog, I assume no one else remembers him.)

Long, long ago. Say 1990. I wished that I could be attracted to Edmund. Because long, long ago, I thought he was flirting with me, and I just wasn't attracted to him. And long, long ago, I thought if I could just fall for men in my 'league' and not go do something crazy like fall for a John, it would all work out. And I fell for Edmund. Somewhere along the way. And he appreciated that for his ego. He kept me hanging on. But he never reciprocated.

Edmund and I were definitely in the same league looks-wise. He was 5'5", very thin (although he isn't any more), with a receding hair line in college. So his rejection of me, which was tied with confused manipulation, flirting, and keeping me interested because it was good for his ego, even as he'd complain at least every week that no woman was interested in him, hurt my self esteem greatly. (I should say, I don't think it was conscious on his part--he is a good man and I don't think he ever meant to hurt me. It just happened.)

Edmund was my best friend for 5 years. We got together for 3 or 4 times a week, spoke on the phone every day, for hours each week. I loved him dearly. He is the only man I thought I would marry.

There are also very clear reasons we would have been a disaster; mostly that he is vanilla to his core. And I knew that, and knew I wasn't, and still thought we would marry, and I would have an active fantasy life and not try to deal with that. And, if you believe in astrology (and I do), I have a ton of fire in my chart and no earth, and he has quite a bit of earth, and no fire. And that is a fair representation of the differences between us.

Edmund didn't date for maybe 5 years after I 'broke up' with him, as a friend. (We'd get together every couple of years, so I'd keep tabs on him, but recently, I hadn't kept tabs.) But we had lunch, and as he sat down I noticed his ring. I'm very happy for him, but it was a poignant happiness.

I met his wife, and she is a small town girl, who will be a wonderful mother (they are pregnant with twins) and they have a 20 acre farm, with horses and chickens and pigs. And Edmund is happy. (And just to make this too bizarre in blog world--they are naming their kids Jane and the "John" of this blog's real name. Now, obviously, Edmund's real name isn't Edmund, but Edmund Burke, who I named "Edmund" after, was married to a Jane! --I'd looked up what I wrote about him before we had lunch, so his favorite philosopher to hate was fresh in my mind. And, of course, I kept thinking about John.)

But his wife is such a polar opposite to me. And she is what men are far more likely to want. She is thinner than me (or was, before her pregnancy), wears make-up, laughs easily, is warm and easy-going. She is sweet and genuinely kind. I'm harsher, abrasive. I dislike lots of things (although I'm loyal to the core for the people I love). I have enough of a prissy streak that shoveling out a barn would just not be on my radar, and I love the city. But Edmund and I had scintillating, smart, fast-moving conversations that jumped from idea to idea, plumbing one in depth only to swing like trapeze artists onto another and make connection deep down and spread out, bringing in more ideas and more ideas and more ideas. That, and his laughing, sparkling, dancing eyes were why I loved him SO much. His wife isn't dumb in any way, but she is thinks and talks slowly. Edmund seems on a different speed setting with her than the Edmund I knew.

I'm happy for him, but sad for me. It seems to me, a lot of the time, that I'd make a much better man in our society than a woman. Or a better Dominatrix than submissive. The Republican is e-mailing me once a week saying things like "I wish I had you in a cage right now" (because it would kill him to just ask me out for coffee) and another young'un (25!) can't remember my name but e-mails me every couple of days for a 'kinky massage,' and then this sweet man, who is clearly a little kinky but not very, is maybe smitten with me (although we haven't met, so how can he be?) but I just don't know that I could be attracted to him!!!! I wished once to be attracted to someone I wasn't. I'll never make that wish again.

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.

Staying Focused

Here I stand, head in hand, turn my face to the wall.

The vanilla man, lets call him Luke, is out of town for work. And, of course, given that we've only been out once, I should chill. But I'm restless. If the Republican called, willing to concede my concerns, I would be interested, even though I intellectually know it would be a poor match. But I'm hungry. I've been hungry for SO long. I don't act on it, but it is hard to always deny what I want. I do believe I can't do casual. I just think it is wrong, morally, for me. (Not for others, but it is for me, and I would pay for it.)

No where people stare. No one laughs at me.

Because no one sees me.

I'm also really questioning if I want to be in the D/s right now. That is a difficult issue for me--I know I will crave the D/s if I end up in a relationship with out it. I crave it now. Frankly, I need to be spanked. I need to have someone grab my hair and pull it back and devour my neck. My bones ache.

And yet. I always try.

Unless the tone is right, it feels really, really wrong to me. I don't want to say 'abusive' because I have consented to everything that has happened to me, and it isn't fair to use a word like that when there is consent. It just isn't. But it feels that way to me. The Republican made it clear that I have not-so-deep fears and trepidations from being hurt when it wasn't healthy for me.

You've got to hid your love away.

Luke hasn't seem a glimpse of my private girl, and until he does, I won't fall for him. I need to see how I'm comfortable, if I can be comfortable, letting her out to play. I don't even know if she can exist in a vanilla light. Steven commented that he could only love me once he met her, and I believe that is true for many men. Although she isn't nearly as bright as the public woman. Both the Republican and John had very negative reactions to her. Or maybe John had negative reactions to the public woman's attempt to protect her. Yes, that is more it--John, more than anyone I ever knew, was willing to embrace my raw vulnerability and say 'Yes. I've been there too." And I love him for that. Part of me still wishes I was enough of a masochist to match him in that realm. But I'm just not.

And so, truth be told, I log into MS Messenger and change my status from "Appear Offline" to "Online." And truth be told, I'm sort of hoping the Republican, or one of the other men that I know it wouldn't work with, that they'd e-mail or IM me. The girl yearns to be recognized, acknowledged, embraced. And everyone who has ever seen her has a little bit of power over her. And the girl has only ever had that happen in the D/s context. I hope to find a way to let her out in another context, and if I could, I think that's all she needs. But she only comes out under very certain conditions. My hotmail account is basically dead. it associated only in that world and I've started to cut off the ties in that world. And I will have the discipline to not take any initiatives and see what happens with Luke, and a couple of other nilla men I'm currently talking with, but it is hard to tell her she needs to hide away until it is safe, and it will take a lot of time. She hasn't had much time in the sun. It is spring.

Why should she hide her love away? Someday she will win. Someday he will see me, laugh with me and he will say: Love will find away. But for now...

My New Favorite Nightie

It clings to my breast, cradling them in a sexy way, and then wafting out to just below my undies. It is diaphanous, without being obscene, flattering and sexy. Oh, and it is ballerina pink with a little rose and bow under my left breast. It is the same as the ivory one that Steven so lovingly and gently removed from my breasts and hips when my hands were handcuffed behind my breast, carefully kissing each inch of skin that he lovingly revealed. And it is the kind of nightgown a woman would wear who was being lovingly revealed. The object of the Father Figure song, not a trashier predecessor.

I've worn it every night since the Republican called me a stupid bitch. I even came home from work the other day, and took a nap in the middle of the day, in this nightgown. Normally, it is the sort of thing I'd save till I had someone to wear it for. But I seem to have this chasm of vulnerability and neediness that I don't want to just dump on an unsuspecting guy. I need to comfort myself, and this nightgown is a reminder that I am cherishable and worthy of love and kindness. And then I run my hand over my cheek and fall asleep, trying to cradle myself.

Fundamentally, I think I'm not looking for a kinky relationship. They just don't feel healthy to me. I want kinky sex within a vanilla relationship. But I want tons of vanilla. I want hugs, and appreciation and gentle caresses and warm words and encouragement and kindness and love. And within that, I want someone who will do evil things to me, but always with an overriding kindness and love.

It was actually a lovely date with the eharmony man. We didn't talk about sex at all--not even hint. But we talked about the fact that I played dumb for years, and I can't date men that aren't smart because I start to play dumb again. And we talked about difficulties at work and what selfish superpower we'd each pick, if we could (he wants mind-reading--I opted for either staying my current age or time travel), and what altruistic one we'd pick (he'd stop hunger, me global warming), and what we were reading, and whether we believed in God and what that meant, and what we'd change about work, and our families, and the cost of gas, and our favorite youtube videos and some of our fears, and the rightward tile of The Economist's US coverage in the last decade. It was a lovely evening. He isn't under my skin the way the Republican was after a date, but the Republican made me super-vulnerable and followed it up with making me feel insecure, which was actually a really manipulative thing to do, and I've fallen for that one-two punch before. I think this is actually better, healthier, for me. I'm not questioning my worth, the way I do when someone pulls that trick on me. And I'm just going to trust that if everything else worked, we could make that work too. But I seem to have this huge chasm of yearning. Usually that hunger is a raw, sexual hunger barely (but completely) hidden under a proper lady, but, right now at least, it is a hunger for comforting and kindness more than sex.

Wow--Excited and Nervous

I have a date with the eharmony guy tomorrow night, and I'm nervous! I really like this man. He is bright, engaging, optimistic, and seems to actually see some of me. He really likes my writing (and that is just on eharmony, and some emails) and he writes really well too. I think we'd have a lot in common (we are in complementary professions), and we could support each other.

And the whole 'how-the-hell-do-you-talk-about-sex' thing looms large. Very large. First of all, I'm not sure if I know how to fall in crush with a gentleman off the dance floor. If said gentleman is strong, turns me the way he wants me to go, lifts up my chin when I look down, brushes some hair out of my face, then, perhaps. But if said gentleman lets me control the situation, I will lose interest. And the thing is, I will try to control the situation. I really will. I wish I wouldn't, but I will. I will test him to get a sense of how strong he is. (And if he is strong, I will test him to get a sense of whether or not he would take good care of me.) I wish I didn't work that way, but it is like having a pint of Ben & Jerry's in the freezer--I'd eat it, even if I'd wish I wouldn't. That is just how I work.

I've sort of tried to figure out how I might drop hints. So far, he has had two. The first is my eharmony profile, which says:

• What I'm looking for includes: it wouldn't hurt if you had an evil streak and wanted to do unspeakable things to me, if we were serious about each other.
• 5 things I can't live without includes: Fabulous, frequent, faithful sex, vanilla +++
  
• And most private thing I'm willing to admit says: I want a true partnership of equals in the world, even as I yearn for someone to sweep me off my feet and take charge on the dance floor and in our erotic lives. Working out that balance of power--when is it appropriate to lead, when to follow and when to row together is a tough one, and one I think our society is scared to talk honestly about. I welcome that honest dialog, not because I know the answers, but because it is darn important.

So, really. That kind of says it all, right? Then, at one point, I said "I'm really blunt! We've already talked about religion and politics, so I guess we should move on to money and sex!" I was joking, but, I was also trying to reinforce that last point. He says he has re-read my profile on several occasions, and that it what the best-written profile he's read. If he has really, really read it, he has to kind of know, right? I mean, that isn't exactly written in Esperanza or something. Do vanilla people talk about 'working out that balance of power," and hoping someone had an 'evil streak' wanting to do 'unspeakable things' to me? What else would that mean?

Anyway, if we have chemistry (or maybe even if we don't tomorrow), I want to try to let this work. But, I think the way that I'll introduce it, if he doesn't by the third or forth date would be if he asks about my ex and why we broke up. Sooner or later, that seems to get asked. I will say that honestly, we each failed each other in a specific way. I was unable to support my ex as he pursued his dream. (And I honestly feel partially justified and partially bad about that.) And he was unable to fulfill my erotic core. I really don't like the idea of waiting until 3 or 6 month anniversary to bring up the whole kinky thing. That seems to be dissembling to the point of dishonesty.

The next question is this blog. I think that if we worked, I might delete it. I'm trying to figure it out. I did mention that I blogged occasionally. But I also left the impression that I blog on political matters, which I do at least a few times a year! I tried to say it so that it wasn't a lie, but you can't say "I blog about how I feel about sex and dating, but I'm not going to tell you where--nee ner, nee ner, nee ner." That is just too mean.

On the kinky websites, I'm comfortable saying "yeah, I blog about this stuff. No one who knows me gets to see it" and leaving it at that. But this feels differently. If I couldn't say that, I couldn't keep the blog. And frankly, I feel like I might need to delete it before we got serious about each other. I wouldn't want to sleep with someone and not know he was publishing a blog about it, nor that the entire world knew what made him tick, but I didn't get to. It is really, really important to me to not lie. I dissemble about little things, mostly about trying to give the impression that I'm not as smitten with a man as I might be. I may act a little more nonchalant than I actually feel at a given time and attempt to pretend I haven't checked my e-mail 48 times before the 12:00 noon cutoff in my head that will tell me whether he wants to see me again. But that isn't lying. But having a blog about sex and dating and never mentioning it, that seems like lying to me.

Overall, though, I'm clearly excited about him, or else I wouldn't be up this late on a Sunday night. And I'm excited to be excited about a vanilla man who clearly cherishes me already. I think it would be easier to teach him to dominate me than teach a dominate man to cherish me.

A New Direction

So, I am finally taking Stephen's advice. I removed my ad from CollarMe. I don't know for how long, but I have 2 months left on an eharmony subscription, and I'm going to try that 100% till it expires. Well, that and the other, vanilla ways people meet.

I think the Republican got frustrated with me after he slapped me on the face and called me a 'dumb bitch' and I freaked out. Well, you know, I'm glad I freaked out. I don't want to be slapped on the face, except under very special circumstances, and I don't want to be called a dumb bitch at all. And I'm tired of trying to compromise on that. I bet more men than not, vanilla or not, would be delighted with the erotic packaged I'd offer: "Gee, honey, I really get off on pleasing you, in whatever way you like, but you'll have to let me know what you want me to do, 'make' me do it, and let me know you liked it." Really, what is so horrible about that? Are there any men reading this blog that would freak if a girlfriend of three months dropped that little bombshell on them? (Well, is anyone reading this blog? That's another issue.)

And there is a man on eharmony who has spent the last week flirting with me in the most marvelous way. This man is excited by my work, supportive, smart, optimistic and even researched one of my interests enough to find out that I'm mentioned on the wikipedia page connected with it! (I didn't even know--I made Wikipedia! Wow--I don't have an entry on me--just mentioned in something else, but I'm sort of known for something!) He figured out I was interested in something I mentioned, wanted to know more and went to look at it! How lovely! And he is interested in my work and I believe would be an enthusiastic and kind partner. And, he said in his 'must haves' on eharmony that he must have a passionate woman, willing to explore our mutual sexual interests. So, that's gotta mean GGG, right?

The Republican got under my skin, and I haven't been as engaged with this lovely man, who may not be strong enough to dominate me, but he might be strong enough to seduce me and relax me and protect me. (We haven't yet met, but we've talked on the phone, and I like his pictures, and really liked our chemistry talking.) And maybe the whole D/s thing is really like enjoying junk food. Of course Ben & Jerry's Phish Food tastes better than fresh fruit. And, in small quantities, that's OK. But if you gorge on Phish Food, you'll make yourself sick. And if you stay away from the Phish Food, the texture of mangoes and the flavors of berries and the soft kiss of honeydew and the sharp crisp of watermelon actually brings far more pleasure than Phish Food. Maybe I'm wrong and I'll be back with the Ben & Jerry's in May. But maybe I've been trying for a quick fix when what I really need is a strong foundation. It is worth a try.


Sooner or later, if I got serious about someone, I'd have to tell him about this side of me, and that scares me a great deal. Fortunately, I've never been promiscuous, at all. (Sorry--I'm sure I'd have a much more interesting blog if I were.) But I wonder if this touches on the madonna/whore dichotomy. If a man would be horrified to find out that, within a monogamous relationship, without any of the promiscuity the word implies, he was dating a woman who really just wanted to be his slut. I think that's what men want. But I think it is only part of what they want, and they also recoil from such a thing. I don't know.

The Republican and my Body Image

It is always nice when people reconfirm stereotypes I've previously held. It is such hard work to take people out of their little boxes and try to relate to them as individuals, without preconceived caricatures. So, I should be quite grateful to the Republican.

In all honesty, there were several warning signs. When we went out, he had 5 drinks and had no effect at all. And when I said I needed more from him before I was ready to submit, preferably without alcohol, he didn't like that idea. Asked me to think specifically about what I needed, so I sent him a very open, honest e-mail. Explaining about the differences between public woman and private girl, and what the two needed in order for me to be able to submit. I also confided that I thought that while he was quite attracted to public woman, he didn't care for private girl. So asking to see a lot more of her, seemed problematic.

He replied that he wouldn't know if I was good enough till he saw my tits. Once an Ayn Rand fan, always an Ayn Rand fan.

I told him: "I can't imagine a man overlooking flaws in my mind based on my physical attributes. The reverse, perhaps, but not that."

But it brings up a couple of interesting issues; what do I expect men think I'll look like nude? I mean, I'm a size 14 or so (designers are all over the place--sometimes I'm a 12; sometimes I'm a 16, but I hover in the 14 range). In other words, I'm plumper than Kate Winslet is or Marilyn Monroe was. I mean, I thought Botticelli was synonymous with beautiful plump women, but I don't look anything like the Birth of Venus. I don't even think the Birth of Venus looks plump. Renoir is the only one that has come close to painting what I actually look like, and only with some of his paintings. Furthermore, I have a couple of scars. I'm pale white--I look like I soak in Clorox at night. And you simply aren't going to count my ribs. Quite the contrary--my stomach jiggles. I certainly don't look like the Leonard Nimoy nudes; thank God! All my feminist principles say 'but of course they are lovely, but all I can say is Thank God I don't look like that! But I'm not thin by any stretch of any imagination.

I know statistically men look at face, tits and butt. My tits and face are great. I don't know where my butt would be on a scale. But I look at my stomach. Oy, do I look at my stomach. I look at my thighs, which are just too muscular. My inner arms, which jiggle too. But mostly my stomach.

And I have no idea what men would think of me naked. No man has ever said "oh--this isn't what I expected," but I just have no clue there.

Now, the Republican didn't have a problem calling me a 'dumb bitch' at one point. (Why the hell would I overlook something like that? What the hell is wrong with me? I must be a dumb bitch!) When he asked for more and more pictures of me, I assumed it was because he wanted to make sure I really looked like my photos. Every compliment he gave to my looks, based on my photos, I dismissed in my head, because I'm kind of photogenic. I have a smile the camera likes. When we met, he said on several occasions that he thought I was hot. Beautiful. And pretty. Me, being me, I assumed he was being kind because he could pick up that I had an underlying insecurity there. It didn't occur to me that he was quite as selfish as he later proved himself. I don't quite now what I think he expects to see if I were naked. I mean, the man must have some sense of physics and know that the size 14 skirt contains a size 14 body, right? And yet, I cannot intellectualize my way out of believing that a man would be attracted to me despite my body, not because of it.