I am having real issues with my dad. It seems I'm not the only one. (My parents are using the D word, which they haven't for 20 years. And what is scary is before I was on the side of 'work it out,' this time I'm on the side of 'how the hell did mom put up with this for so long?') But I realized when talking with the family shrink (of course my family has a resident shrink that is our go-to person when my parents are having trouble with each other or the kids are having problems with on of our parents) that my standards for my dad are so very low. The shrink wanted me to phrase what I wanted from my dad, rather than what I didn't want. And I was like, 'well, what I want may not be realistic and I'm not going to cut down on relatedness to my dad because he won't give me what I want.' But he had me work on what I wanted: my dad to have kindness and empathy for me and to cherish me. Yup. That's the big thing this girl would like more than anything else: her dad to cherish her. And I don't think he will. He is too busy being 'genuine' (and he tries to make it sound like he is a better person than other people for being 'genuine') to worry about being kind. He is genuinely an asshole right now.
Nate cherishes me, but he is so fucking busy! I found myself cutting back on seeing other people (even though we have neither slept together, nor had a conversation about not seeing other people) and now I'm really wondering if I can have a relationship where I get to see someone once a week and have text messages in between but not even phone calls.
There are 2 men who are pursuing (does anyone else spell that as persue and then have spell check change that to peruse? Oy--I'm too tired to be blogging) me pretty hard, and I'm kind of exhausted by each one. I e-mailed both (whom I've avoided contacting for several days) and said "I'm just too overwhelmed to meet right now" and they both got "no you're not" and I'm like Annie Oakley (Yes I am!).
I keep trying to sleep and keep getting woken up by my angst around my dad. I keep wishing I could say the thing that would make him decide he genuinely wants his family in his life and he will want to be aware of their needs too.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Birthday, Part 2.
So, I'm a little embarrassed, but my best friend and I flew to NYC for the weekend for my birthday, because I wanted to see Hugh Jackman.
Jackman was amazing. Funny, sexy, charismatic, charming, with a great voice. He does it all effortlessly (and even does his own tap-dancing).
And it made me sad. Made me sad that a highlight of my birthday is seeing someone else perform. I would rather have had someone to spank me.
That said, Nate and I have been seeing more and more of each other. Maybe we'll celebrate my birthday next week.
Jackman was amazing. Funny, sexy, charismatic, charming, with a great voice. He does it all effortlessly (and even does his own tap-dancing).
And it made me sad. Made me sad that a highlight of my birthday is seeing someone else perform. I would rather have had someone to spank me.
That said, Nate and I have been seeing more and more of each other. Maybe we'll celebrate my birthday next week.
Friday, November 18, 2011
I say it's my birthday...
And I'm really rather blue about it. 42. What is the big deal? And yet, somehow, this year, it is hitting me. I'm 42 and I'm single.
And, I went to John's memorial on what would have been his 42nd birthday. I am now older than John was. Maybe that is why this one is hitting me.
I do feel like it will affects how men view me. 42. I don't look it. I really don't. At the 'scene' party, the one guy I talked to thought I was in my 20s. But the lighting wasn't that great. But even when the lighting is, everyone seems to think I look 32. I have had 1 grey hair, total. It was in my right eyebrow. I plucked it out in 1994 and it never reappeared. I notice that under my eyes there are very faint wrinkles from smiling, but you can only see them in my 12x, lighted magnifying mirror.
But I moisturize like crazy. And when I don't moisturize, I can really see the difference in my skin. That wasn't true when I was younger.
42. Supposedly, my body is less fertile by the hour. 42. How did that happen?
I seem to have wasted my youth on an education, when I should have been partying, drinking and fucking. 42. I have now been able to drink more of my life (legally) than I haven't. 42. Not only am I out of it when it comes to most popular culture (who is this Kardasian? And why do people care? I assume she is gorgeous, tall, with long hair and big breasts, but I couldn't pick her out of a Maxim line-up. A group of clients were talking about Jersey Shore and I asked them what they liked about it because I honestly couldn't imagine why it was popular. It felt like 'when I was their age' people had to at least have a little talent to be a C-list celebrity.)
I actually feel like my life is pretty good. At 42. But I feel like what I feel isn't nearly as important to the dating game as how men view me. And with internet dating, age is the very first thing they view. And 42 is old for a single woman. Most men assume there is something wrong with me, for never having been married. I'm happy to date men who are 10 years older than me (if they are taking care of themselves), but not 20 years older than me. And right now, I get a lot more 57 year olds making passes at me than 47 year olds. And half the men who claim they are 47 years old seem closer to 60.
Well, I'm still interested in Nate. And he is 5 years older than I and seems very fine with my age.
And, I went to John's memorial on what would have been his 42nd birthday. I am now older than John was. Maybe that is why this one is hitting me.
I do feel like it will affects how men view me. 42. I don't look it. I really don't. At the 'scene' party, the one guy I talked to thought I was in my 20s. But the lighting wasn't that great. But even when the lighting is, everyone seems to think I look 32. I have had 1 grey hair, total. It was in my right eyebrow. I plucked it out in 1994 and it never reappeared. I notice that under my eyes there are very faint wrinkles from smiling, but you can only see them in my 12x, lighted magnifying mirror.
But I moisturize like crazy. And when I don't moisturize, I can really see the difference in my skin. That wasn't true when I was younger.
42. Supposedly, my body is less fertile by the hour. 42. How did that happen?
I seem to have wasted my youth on an education, when I should have been partying, drinking and fucking. 42. I have now been able to drink more of my life (legally) than I haven't. 42. Not only am I out of it when it comes to most popular culture (who is this Kardasian? And why do people care? I assume she is gorgeous, tall, with long hair and big breasts, but I couldn't pick her out of a Maxim line-up. A group of clients were talking about Jersey Shore and I asked them what they liked about it because I honestly couldn't imagine why it was popular. It felt like 'when I was their age' people had to at least have a little talent to be a C-list celebrity.)
I actually feel like my life is pretty good. At 42. But I feel like what I feel isn't nearly as important to the dating game as how men view me. And with internet dating, age is the very first thing they view. And 42 is old for a single woman. Most men assume there is something wrong with me, for never having been married. I'm happy to date men who are 10 years older than me (if they are taking care of themselves), but not 20 years older than me. And right now, I get a lot more 57 year olds making passes at me than 47 year olds. And half the men who claim they are 47 years old seem closer to 60.
Well, I'm still interested in Nate. And he is 5 years older than I and seems very fine with my age.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Adoption and Acceptance
I can't help but notice that the ex, Bobby and the vanilla Republican from last year were all adopted. John was in and out of foster homes and his mother kicked him out when he was 14. Nate has adopted a child.
This seems statistically anomalous, and so I wonder if there is a pattern.
Clearly, the sense of not fitting in resonates deeply with me, which is odd because I had what, from the outside, should have seemed like a story-book home. It wasn't, of course. But it certainly had more stability and I had a lot of love from the first day I was born until I was 4 years old and became "the problem child." And even at that point, I still had a stability and continuity. I have an acquaintance who's mother died in childbirth and she was put up for adoption and adopted within a month, and she feels that loss incredibly strongly. It is a defining even in her life. I don't have any reason to feel that way.
It's just that I'm a freak who didn't fit in.
Clearly, something in me is attracted to, or draws in men that didn't stick with their origin family. I don't know what that is, but I think it links to seeing the pain in a soul.
Nate wasn't adopted. Nate didn't feel like a freak and didn't struggle to find a family or create an identity. And Nate found it in his heart to adopt a baby girl.
He and I have been fooling around. Almost enough to make me wish I'd be in town for my birthday this weekend. It would be nice to be spanked on my birthday.
But here's the thing: I like Nate. My body likes Nate. I can totally enjoy fooling around with him. And then I'm totally OK if he goes. I'd totally go out with him again (and I assume he'll call--he texted me after he left last night to tell me what a wonderful time he had), but while I enjoy him when I'm with him, it isn't changing how I view life. It isn't making me turned on all the time. (After Bobby and I went out, I felt turned on all day long.) It isn't making me grin. I enjoy him when I'm with him. But I'm not looking forward to the prospect of seeing him.
I hope that will come. I do think if we have sex, I'll begin to like him more. Intellectually, it would be lovely to be with someone who wanted to make a home for others, rather than search for the home he had lost.
This seems statistically anomalous, and so I wonder if there is a pattern.
Clearly, the sense of not fitting in resonates deeply with me, which is odd because I had what, from the outside, should have seemed like a story-book home. It wasn't, of course. But it certainly had more stability and I had a lot of love from the first day I was born until I was 4 years old and became "the problem child." And even at that point, I still had a stability and continuity. I have an acquaintance who's mother died in childbirth and she was put up for adoption and adopted within a month, and she feels that loss incredibly strongly. It is a defining even in her life. I don't have any reason to feel that way.
It's just that I'm a freak who didn't fit in.
Clearly, something in me is attracted to, or draws in men that didn't stick with their origin family. I don't know what that is, but I think it links to seeing the pain in a soul.
Nate wasn't adopted. Nate didn't feel like a freak and didn't struggle to find a family or create an identity. And Nate found it in his heart to adopt a baby girl.
He and I have been fooling around. Almost enough to make me wish I'd be in town for my birthday this weekend. It would be nice to be spanked on my birthday.
But here's the thing: I like Nate. My body likes Nate. I can totally enjoy fooling around with him. And then I'm totally OK if he goes. I'd totally go out with him again (and I assume he'll call--he texted me after he left last night to tell me what a wonderful time he had), but while I enjoy him when I'm with him, it isn't changing how I view life. It isn't making me turned on all the time. (After Bobby and I went out, I felt turned on all day long.) It isn't making me grin. I enjoy him when I'm with him. But I'm not looking forward to the prospect of seeing him.
I hope that will come. I do think if we have sex, I'll begin to like him more. Intellectually, it would be lovely to be with someone who wanted to make a home for others, rather than search for the home he had lost.
Monday, November 14, 2011
When breaking up is impossible....
I realized today that if any other man in the world treated me the way my dad treats me, I would break up with him.
All day, I've had to blink back tears and fight to stay focused.
And I wonder how much I expect men to let me down has to do with the fact that my dad has often let me down. No man has ever, in my entire life, made me his first priority. Never.
Obviously, I'm not going to break it off with my dad. I love him. If I were to cut him out of my life right now, I think I would really regret it if he dies before I do (which, obviously is probable).
But I guess I just have to make sure I don't let him too close to me.
And I guess I have to make sure that I don't count on him, because I can only count on him to let me down unless he just doesn't feel like it.
And somehow, or other, I have to make sure that that doesn't poison my ability to be joyous and open with other men.
I'm cooking for Nate tomorrow night. I don't really like the idea of letting him in my apartment, because look at what happened in a restaurant. But I didn't want him to have to pay another $80 to take me out to dinner, and I knew he wouldn't let me take him to a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, and, let's be honest, look at what happened in the restaurant, so why not come some place where we can be a little more leisurely. I already told him that the fact we're eating at my place doesn't mean anything more will happen. But I think we both know that tomorrow night will involve oral sex.
And then he'll go home to the other woman in his life. Because his priorities are exactly where they should be. And while I'd love to wake up in his arms, I accept that that won't happen until we are enough of an 'item' for me to meet his daughter.
He says he adores me. He thinks I'm beautiful. As beautiful as any model (which is quite sweet because I'm actually of average height and average size, and in my 40s. Actually--I kind of look like a younger, cuter version of Hugh Jackman's wife.) He was unwilling to accept my statement that I am beautiful but not 'conventionally attractive" and started telling me how beautiful I am.
There isn't the frisson that I felt with Bobby or John. There isn't the intellectual 'this-is-a-kindred-spirit.' But I'm having fun and enjoying him. And maybe that will come.
Wouldn't it be bizarre if I was using Nate to get over John and John to get over my dad?
All day, I've had to blink back tears and fight to stay focused.
And I wonder how much I expect men to let me down has to do with the fact that my dad has often let me down. No man has ever, in my entire life, made me his first priority. Never.
Obviously, I'm not going to break it off with my dad. I love him. If I were to cut him out of my life right now, I think I would really regret it if he dies before I do (which, obviously is probable).
But I guess I just have to make sure I don't let him too close to me.
And I guess I have to make sure that I don't count on him, because I can only count on him to let me down unless he just doesn't feel like it.
And somehow, or other, I have to make sure that that doesn't poison my ability to be joyous and open with other men.
I'm cooking for Nate tomorrow night. I don't really like the idea of letting him in my apartment, because look at what happened in a restaurant. But I didn't want him to have to pay another $80 to take me out to dinner, and I knew he wouldn't let me take him to a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, and, let's be honest, look at what happened in the restaurant, so why not come some place where we can be a little more leisurely. I already told him that the fact we're eating at my place doesn't mean anything more will happen. But I think we both know that tomorrow night will involve oral sex.
And then he'll go home to the other woman in his life. Because his priorities are exactly where they should be. And while I'd love to wake up in his arms, I accept that that won't happen until we are enough of an 'item' for me to meet his daughter.
He says he adores me. He thinks I'm beautiful. As beautiful as any model (which is quite sweet because I'm actually of average height and average size, and in my 40s. Actually--I kind of look like a younger, cuter version of Hugh Jackman's wife.) He was unwilling to accept my statement that I am beautiful but not 'conventionally attractive" and started telling me how beautiful I am.
There isn't the frisson that I felt with Bobby or John. There isn't the intellectual 'this-is-a-kindred-spirit.' But I'm having fun and enjoying him. And maybe that will come.
Wouldn't it be bizarre if I was using Nate to get over John and John to get over my dad?
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Daddy's Girl, part 7314
(N.B. So I write about blowing a guy in the bathroom and my stats go up by 900%. It would seem that a sex blog about sex might be more popular than a sex blog about angst. But I must say, if you're someone who read my blog for the first time because I wrote about blowing a guy in a restaurant, you have really low standards for erotica. I would recommend the Anne Rice Beauty trilogy and Safe Word by Molly Weatherfield.)
So, I have daddy issues. Duh. For the last three years my dad and I have been planning a trip to Europe and my dad and I were planning enough for next summer that I had started to organize work around it. Today, my dad cancelled on me. And he did it rather cavalierly. There was something he would rather do and he wasn't sure if he was in good enough physical shape. He is now feeling strong enough and so, there it is.
I was devastated, more by the cavalier way he presented it than by the actual cancellation, which I had been somewhat prepared for. (He has cancelled several other years on this same trip. I had given him numerous outs before this point but he didn't take any of the outs before this.)
My dad hates it if I reason with him. And then he accused me of 'guilt-tripping' him and then I just started breaking down, weeping all over. Which of course makes me feel like shit. Horrible. I've been off the phone for an hour and I still feel like I've been run over. Interestingly, it actually made my dad stop being so matter-of-fact and look at the fact that he has routinely cancelled on me and I am continually feeling like I'm his back-up plan.
I wonder to what extent I assume men will just cancel on me and assume I'm their 2nd best option because my dad always treats me that way. I wonder if I bring men into my life who will do this because it feels familiar to me.
I don't always buy into the psychoanalytical stuff because it feels to me like I am pretty aware of my patterns and that awareness doesn't seem to change them. I don't know how to change what I feel and I wonder if I'll be always that little 5-year-old girl brushed to the side.
So, I have daddy issues. Duh. For the last three years my dad and I have been planning a trip to Europe and my dad and I were planning enough for next summer that I had started to organize work around it. Today, my dad cancelled on me. And he did it rather cavalierly. There was something he would rather do and he wasn't sure if he was in good enough physical shape. He is now feeling strong enough and so, there it is.
I was devastated, more by the cavalier way he presented it than by the actual cancellation, which I had been somewhat prepared for. (He has cancelled several other years on this same trip. I had given him numerous outs before this point but he didn't take any of the outs before this.)
My dad hates it if I reason with him. And then he accused me of 'guilt-tripping' him and then I just started breaking down, weeping all over. Which of course makes me feel like shit. Horrible. I've been off the phone for an hour and I still feel like I've been run over. Interestingly, it actually made my dad stop being so matter-of-fact and look at the fact that he has routinely cancelled on me and I am continually feeling like I'm his back-up plan.
I wonder to what extent I assume men will just cancel on me and assume I'm their 2nd best option because my dad always treats me that way. I wonder if I bring men into my life who will do this because it feels familiar to me.
I don't always buy into the psychoanalytical stuff because it feels to me like I am pretty aware of my patterns and that awareness doesn't seem to change them. I don't know how to change what I feel and I wonder if I'll be always that little 5-year-old girl brushed to the side.
Friday, November 11, 2011
That kind of girl...
In some ways I have allowed that kind of girl to define me. As in NOT that kind of girl. For example, not the kind of girl that would kneel in the bathroom of a fancy restaurant and give the guy she was there with a blowjob. Definitely not that kind of girl.
Except....
So things have progressed with Nate more, and in different ways, than I would have predicted. And now you all know what kind of girl I am.
I'm not sure what that means. Nate has said on multiple occasions that he adores me. (And he says how beautiful I am all the time.) And if he actually continues to cherish me, than I'm happy to be a 'partner in crime.' I have this idea that men don't cherish women that they do that kind of thing with at least not women that do that that quickly(and not that anyone is counting, except of course me, this was our 3rd date).
I do have to say that Nate and I flirt and caress and his hands go up my skirt and I pull them down and then he orders me to do something and I usually do. But, I don't yet know what all else he and I have in common. I feel like his values are good. His politics are good. He is clearly smart. But we don't really seem to get into all of that. I mean we do some. I know about the travails of his daughter and schools and what not. And it seems like his daughter and his work are the majority of his life right now.
I realized after my post this morning, that moment in Avatar where the characters say "I see you," that was a somewhat cheesy rendition of something that is very important to me. That sense of being seen for who I am.
Bobby read my profile on CM and said it was the best profile he'd ever read. Maybe he says that to all the girls, but I doubt it. Bobby got how much more personal my profile is than a picture of my tits ever would be. I actually have a picture of me looking really very cute in my little sexy-German-waitress Halloween costume, but I didn't put it up because I feel like if I did, no one would see me for me. As Caroline would say "that sorrow deep inside you is inside me too."
I guess I'm willing to be the kind of girl that blows her boyfriend in the bathroom of a fancy restaurant. But only if he sees all the parts of her. I want more emotional intimacy to go with the physical kind.
Now the other issue is why the hell was I thinking "I'm not that kind of girl" while I was being that kind of girl? I would like to think that I don't buy into the negative stereotypes about women who own their own pleasure, but clearly, if that is what is going through my head, I have some of those stereotypes. I don't think I judge other women that way (although I will confess I have a friend who bragged that he had hit the 10,000 hook-ups number and I had a really hard time with that--I'd never sleep with him (as he is gay), but it did kind of make me do a double-take), but I do have this rather inner-puritan, along with my inner-submissive.
Except....
So things have progressed with Nate more, and in different ways, than I would have predicted. And now you all know what kind of girl I am.
I'm not sure what that means. Nate has said on multiple occasions that he adores me. (And he says how beautiful I am all the time.) And if he actually continues to cherish me, than I'm happy to be a 'partner in crime.' I have this idea that men don't cherish women that they do that kind of thing with at least not women that do that that quickly(and not that anyone is counting, except of course me, this was our 3rd date).
I do have to say that Nate and I flirt and caress and his hands go up my skirt and I pull them down and then he orders me to do something and I usually do. But, I don't yet know what all else he and I have in common. I feel like his values are good. His politics are good. He is clearly smart. But we don't really seem to get into all of that. I mean we do some. I know about the travails of his daughter and schools and what not. And it seems like his daughter and his work are the majority of his life right now.
I realized after my post this morning, that moment in Avatar where the characters say "I see you," that was a somewhat cheesy rendition of something that is very important to me. That sense of being seen for who I am.
Bobby read my profile on CM and said it was the best profile he'd ever read. Maybe he says that to all the girls, but I doubt it. Bobby got how much more personal my profile is than a picture of my tits ever would be. I actually have a picture of me looking really very cute in my little sexy-German-waitress Halloween costume, but I didn't put it up because I feel like if I did, no one would see me for me. As Caroline would say "that sorrow deep inside you is inside me too."
I guess I'm willing to be the kind of girl that blows her boyfriend in the bathroom of a fancy restaurant. But only if he sees all the parts of her. I want more emotional intimacy to go with the physical kind.
Now the other issue is why the hell was I thinking "I'm not that kind of girl" while I was being that kind of girl? I would like to think that I don't buy into the negative stereotypes about women who own their own pleasure, but clearly, if that is what is going through my head, I have some of those stereotypes. I don't think I judge other women that way (although I will confess I have a friend who bragged that he had hit the 10,000 hook-ups number and I had a really hard time with that--I'd never sleep with him (as he is gay), but it did kind of make me do a double-take), but I do have this rather inner-puritan, along with my inner-submissive.
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