Continued from My Giant…is my Valentine #8
In case you think that I was ready to walk down a garden path with the Giant as his girlfriend, I should remind you of my inherent sluttiness – which granted may not be evident from the order I have written these posts. Fear not, I still have many examples of my stupidity to share.
The Tuesday before Valentine’s day, I slept with a colleague who you can read about here. Two days later, the day before my Valentine’s day date with the Giant, I met the crazy Russian I nicknamed Sochi. His story you can read here.
What I didn’t tell y’all is that, after Valentine’s day, I had a great date who never reached out afterwards. Then I got bailed on twice in two days. It was a little embarrassing, frankly. The first time was with the personal trainer. And yes, I can feel the collective “WTF” out there. I know, I know… but he reached out to me on a different dating site and I was overwhelmed by his body and the fact that he made me squirt so much before sex everything was soaked. I was willing to try it again. Shocker…he bailed again.
The second bail was P, aka Shenanigans. We had had an argument and then he reached back out and we planned a date but got irritated again and then said “forget it”. So I was really angry – with myself. I should know far better than to bring anyone back from the dead.
The week afterwards, I dated four dudes who all worked in the film capacity in one form or another. All four dates failed. Their stories you can read about here.
Do you feel like all is well with the world again?
So, the bottom line was, my dating life wasn’t going that well. I was really, truly sick of all the bullshit and bad dates and being hurt and disappointed. That’s when I took down my online profiles. And that’s why I decided that I should give my Giant some more time. I knew that there were some things that I didn’t like. But I was sincerely confused about whether I just wasn’t ready or if it was really about him. Here was a quality guy – and nothing else was going well.
He offered to come and stay with me for a few nights and I thought it was a great idea. He took the bus because he had not yet fixed his car.
For the next three days, I worked from home whenever I could, to maximize the time we spent together. He cooked me lunches and dinners. He made an extra-large batch of pasta sauce so I could store it in my freezer. He brought me a dozen red roses and an age-appropriate gift for my son (who was staying with my ex that week). We had awesome sex. When I told him I wanted someone more aggressive, he said it had been a long time since he’d been with someone who was open to spontaneity, to aggression, to trying new things.
He promised to try to remember and I did see some progress. One day I was working and he came upstairs, sat down on the floor, pulled me in my office chair toward him, roughly pulled down my pants, put his face between my legs, and made me cum.
One night I tried to talk to him about his relationship with his children. He cut me off after a few questions saying he didn’t want to talk about something depressing. I was trying to understand. He didn’t return the favor – took no opportunity to ask me about my thoughts, opinions, motivations, concerns. But yet told me he was falling for me. How amazingly close to me he felt when we were having sex. A huge part of me wanted to tell him that he had no fucking clue who I was…that a few nights together was only the surface. Me on my best behavior.
No wonder he got himself into relationship trouble. But I’m usually the one that falls too fast. The roles were reversed.
Every night, we watched a movie. I know his knee was hurting and I love movies but I wanted him to want to do something else. Anything else. I live is this massive goddamn city where anything you want to do, you can do. He showed no interest. I recognize I may be a little harsh here, but I don’t want to have to be the one to always make the suggestions and decisions.
Within 36 hours I wanted him out of my house and it was making me irritable. I was irritated he felt comfortable enough to leave the door open to the bathroom in my bedroom when he went pee. I was irritated he didn’t use the dishwasher. I was irritated he didn’t ask me a single fucking question about my life. I was just irritated in general. I was self-aware enough to recognize it, minimize it, and think about it.
There probably aren’t many people who could be in my space for any period of time (excluding my son) and not annoy the fuck out of me. But this was kinda like our third date. This should not be happening. This great guy, this kind guy, this quality guy, was making me a little crazy.
I knew I had a decision to make.