Close call!

Yeah, it was boredom.  No worries.  Not that I don’t like him, but it’s not like that.


Houston, I think we have a problem

I may or may not be falling for Cutie, my new FWB. 

It may or may not be because I’m off work for a couple weeks and B-O-R-E-D.

I may or may not feel the same way after I got back to my regular schedule.  So for now, I’m keeping my big mouth shut.  Probably my legs, too.  Wait, who are we kidding?

And, this is why I’m not dating

Around mid-October, when I was on Match and OKCupid, I met this guy, aka The Professor and formerly the guy that was too good to be true.  Long story short, he’s amazing on paper, we went out, things went OK despite him being one of those really awkward but amazingly brilliant guys, he asked me out to dinner, then disappeared.  No biggie, happens all the time, and I’d pretty much forgotten about him.

Last night around 9:30 I receive a text from a number I did not recognize: Hey JM I am really sorry for beng out of touch.  I was in London when my phone died.  But I’m back in town and want to take you to dinner. : )

Me: I’m sorry, but I’m not sure who this is?

Him: It’s The Professor, we had a first date in October.

Me: Oh right, with the Boston area code.

Me: It’s been a few years since I’ve been to London, but I’m pretty sure they have email over there. : ) <== (smiley face so I don’t come across too bitchy)

Him: Right . . . you have the cutest smile and nose.  Sorry for not emailing, but you were probably on 1,000s of dates and I couldn’t be in the same country. : (

Me. Dinner sounds nice.

Him: So when?

This is where I get irritable.  It’s late, I’m trying to sleep.  Just fucking pick a date and time, already!

Me: I’m kinda flexble since I am off through the new year.

Him: Honestly, I wanted to kiss you that night when we met (rare for me) so it’s in your hands.

I’m realizing now that he’s probably drunk, so I’m going to sleep and will see how things go in the morning. 

Him: I really haven’t been home in awhile.  Going to unpack and shower.  You’re welcome to come over, I’m right on Main Street.

Whaaaaaat.  The.  FUCK?

Me: You’re joking, right?

Him: No, you’re a brutally honest person. I say what I feel, I mean that as a compliment. Honest is honest.

At this point I’m convinced that one of the following is going on: A. He hasn’t been laid in months and he’s texting every single girl in his phone out of pure desperation, B. He’s drunk., or C. He hasn’t really been in London, he’s been in the mental ward.  I guess there is always D. All of the above.

Me: I don’t know who you pegged me for, but I think you got the wrong impression.  We met months ago, I haven’t heard a word from you, and now you text me for a booty call?  Really?

Him: No booty call, just got back and was trying to catch up.  I apologize, my job takes me abroad a lot.  Sorry for being honest.

I don’t text him back.

More than 30 minutes later – 11:30 PM . . .

Him: Amazing what a long shower after a 13 hour flight feels like.  Going to find a movie to watch.  Would still like to take you to dinner.

Wow, just . . . wow.

Merry Christmas Eve

Five years ago today I re-met The Ex and decided to go on a journey with him.  A journey that lasted more than four miserable, self-loathing, disgusting, hateful years. 

I won’t lie.  That re-meet in the parking lot of a grocery store near my parent’s place in my hometown?  It was amazing, blood-pumping, so intense I could have cried, beautiful, romantic, and everything any girl would have dreamed of.  I knew that night, at that moment, that we were meant to be and it was fate, all of it was.

But then, a couple months later, before we moved in together, I got up to get some water and as I was walking by the counter, his phone buzzed, I looked over at it out of habit, and there was a vagina looking back at me.  It was his ex and she was ready to fuck.  Could she come over?

That was the night I learned that women routinely send nude photos and sex invitations just because, and they are not encouraged to do so, and they mean absolutely nothing, it happens ALL. THE. TIME. Didn’t I know that?  Oh, and I’m just paranoid and crazy.  I wouldn’t believe that shit, so I got pissed.  Then, his grandfather passed away and suddenly I was “doing this to him” when I should be comforting him, and by the way, I should stop acting crazy and obviously I don’t love him.

I talked myself into believing that I was being paranoid and he was just so awesome that women threw themselves at him, and wasn’t I lucky to have him?, and I gave my 30-day notice at my apartment and starting packing my stuff to move in with him.  Not surprisingly, there would be more vaginas (unsolicited, of course), more “I miss you” texts (again, totally unsolicited) and more discussions about my mental state aka, feeling that the vagina texts might be a little more telling than he was admitting to.

Our first year anniversary Christmas Eve was sad and I cried like a baby at how wonderful it had been and how I thought it would be, to how it was currently.  On the second anniversary, I did the same thing, but maybe not as much.  On the third anniversary I felt melancholy.  And on the fourth, I was numb and angry. 

This year, I’m starting my Christmas Eve with a group run because I need to celebrate where I am in my fitness and health vs. where I was while I was with him.  Then, I’m going to take my dog to the dog park because I can, and when I do, I won’t be accused of doing something I’m not doing.  Afterall, what is more innocent than taking your dog to play with his dog friends?  After the dog park and a little bit of grocery shopping, I’m going to have my BFF over and we’re going to eat, laugh, watch a movie, laugh, and then laugh some more. 

No crying for me this year.  No vaginas (well, exept for mine).  No pity-parties.  Just me and my happiness.

My limit

I’ve reached my FWB limit, I think.

I have my original FWB, who still may or may not be moving far, far away, and who I think I will remain in contact with, as we have become good friends.  And yes, I am quite fond of him.

My second FWB is Cutie, who came over again last night.  After three straight hours of fucking, with some cuddling and talking in-between, it was way less impersonal and way more fun than last time. 

Even though Cutie is smart and I think he’s fairly successful, he and FWB are very different.  Cutie is Mr. Sex and FWB is not quite Mr. Sex, more like Mr. Talkative.  They both have big penises (score!) and they are both affectionate and good kissers (score, again!).  Both are also very nice guys, not douchbags (double-score!). 

Cutie is super charming and FWB is a bit more aloof.  Cutie is the really sweet, hot guy that everyone wanted back when we were all young and single.  My FWB is a former nerd who found himself during or maybe after college.  I’m attracted to both types, probably moreso the latter, though the former is always a lot of fun. 

I’m chatting with a few other men, and we’ll see where all of that goes, even though there is no one that is floating my boat at the moment.  And, I’ve put my AFF profile on hiatus.  I received something like 20 emails the other day and decided I didn’t have the time or want to deal with it.  All of those guys will still be there if and when I need them.  There’s no doubt. 

I don’t see my original FWB often because his job has him doing stuff after hours and traveling, plus he’s got himself involved in everything, and Cutie isn’t quite as busy with work and hobbies, so he’s around more.  This could change, of course, as the newness wears off of mine and Cutie’s relationship.  I’m just playing it all by ear.

One thing though, is that I cannot afford distractions right now.  I need to focus on what I’m doing: work, running, health, life, friends, hobbies.  No men, no broken hearts.

An eye opener? Not really.

I am no virgin when it comes to the sex thing.  I spent my 20s as quite the free-spirit.  I’ve gone home with a guy after doing shots at the Excalibur in Chicago, spent a few hours with my married lover at the St. Marks in the East Village, and was flown to London for a week of debauchery with an older man I barely knew. 

Since then, I’ve grown up a lot.  There are things I have done that I would never do now.  And, I have learned a lot from my experiences, not only about myself but about men in general.  I don’t know everything and I have made some huge mistakes.  But, my mistakes weren’t for lack of knowledge, I just didn’t listen to myself or want to believe what I already knew. 

So, I was not surprised by my experience on AFF, with exception of the fact that the quality of men is higher than other personals sites.  I don’t have a face photo on my ad, just my body and a write-up.  Some women have less information.  For instance, a photo of cleavage, or in some cases, no photo.  Yet, they still receive dozens of emails, expecially at the “new meat” stage. 

A friend of mine posted her profile a couple of weeks ago and was surprised when she received several emails and notices of interest from a rather vague photo and a body type of “ample”.  Some of the men were yucky, but like me, she noticed that overall, the men were better looking than on sites such as  After a couple of weeks on the site, she told me that it really opened her eyes.  I asked her how so?, and she said she thought men were interested in her because they thought she was pretty or funny (and she is both), but now that she’s on a sex site, and her profile doesn’t have a face or a personality, she realizes they are interested in her because she has a vagina.  And, like me, she’s received several emails from men who are also on as well as at least two emails from men she knows personally who have never asked her out.

I don’t seek validation from outside sources.  Sure, it feels good to be wanted, but not when it’s only because of your genitalia.  Half of the population has a vagina, so I know I’m nothing special.  Sure, there are men who wouldn’t have sex with a big girl or someone who wasn’t all that great looking, but put them in the same room when he’s horny and if she’s willing and there are no other open vaginas in the room at the time, chances are he’ll fuck her.  He might not come back for more, but then again, he might after a few beers and no luck elsewhere.

And yeah, my FWBs might treat me with more respect than they would someone big or unattractive, or someone with a doormat attitude, but I’m not of the impression that they wish they could have a relationship with me.  Some will, some have, but most won’t and haven’t. Personally, I wouldn’t fuck someone I wouldn’t date, but I’m a woman, and I think it’s safe to say that most of us think in this way.  We have higher standards and we have more options. 

When I see my AFF in-box full of emails, I don’t feel wanted or needed, and I know I’m not the only one.  I’m not all, “OMG, I am so hot!”  That guy has emailed probably a dozen women over the past hour and is just hoping that someone, anyone, will bite.  We are fat, thin, big-boobed, flat-chested, tall, short, young, old, ugly, pretty, smart, and stupid.  The only thing we have in common are our vaginas and a willingness to let someone fuck us without the tradition of dating and all of the bullshit that comes with those expectations.

Sure, there are guys who find a woman and really want that particular one, so he’ll put extra effort into the email, but it won’t stop him from emailing everyone else.  My friend and I compare the messages we receive from the same men and have seen a few cut-and-pastes.  Because her photos are not as clear and her profile is not as in-depth, and probably because she is “ample” and I am not, we also receive emails from the same men but while hers are about a sentence, the ones to me are several paragraphs and quite thoughtful.  Bottom line though, is that they’d fuck us both, and pretty much anyone else, so in the end, it doesn’t matter, does it?

What’s new?

Nothing, really.

As I mentioned before, I got a little bored with AFF.  Well, maybe more than a little.  And, I took a break, only to have the emails just pile up on me, which stresses me out.  I like to be in control of my in-box!

I was supposed to get together with Cutie on Thursday and go out with the Doctor on Saturday.  I got my period a week early and since these were fucking dates, I cancelled.  I only told the Cutie why because he was pouty as it was a last minute cancel. 

For those who read my blog, you have probably noticed that I’ve become quite fond of my FWB.  So much so, that I’m taking a bit of a step back from that situation.  I don’t know if it’s truly feelings or just me being lonely because it’s dark and gray and this is my first holiday alone in many, many years.  And, he’s considering a move across the country.  I need to focus on other things right now, and falling for my FWB is not one of the things I want to deal with.

I know I’m still not ready to date.  I don’t think I will be for a very long time.  And, I am happy right now, even though I struggle with the weather and the dark.  But, really, who doesn’t struggle with SAD in Oregon (or Washington, or any of the other dark, dreary states)?  It’s a lot like PMS . . . when I get sad, angry, hungry, irritable, emotional, etc., during that time, I need to let it pass before I do anything major, because chances are, it’s all in my head.

So, I’m going to see Cutie, I’m sure, this upcoming week.  My FWB is going to visit family for quite a while, so that makes things easier there.  I have a date with the Doctor on Friday (third time is a charm, right?).  And, I’m not sure what else I have going on.  The married guy with the hall pass and I talk a lot.  I really like him for some reason.  But I’m not sure if I like him like that or if I want to go there.