Blech. Leo Redux.

Ever since I broke up with him, Leo has been asking me out every couple of weeks.

“Hey Ann how about a drink after work on Wednesday?” he will text. I’ve consistently said no. I’ve even said (gently) that since we broke up, I wasn’t interested in continuing to date.

“It’s just as friends, Ann” he’d protest. “You have a friend for life.”

I know some of you convert boyfriends into friends, but I don’t. If we weren’t friends first, there’s not the basis of a friendship afterward. Not sure who said it first, but I believe “if two lovers remain friends, either they are still in love, or they never were.”

It’s a complicating factor when one person didn’t want the relationship to end. Perhaps when both people come to the same conclusion it can work, but that doesn’t happen with me. If I still wanted to be in a relationship, there’s no way I can be relegated to a friend. And when the reverse is true, I don’t like feeling pressure for potentially more.

Leo kept at it.

Then one night, he caught me in a particularly weak moment. He said it would just be a friend with benefits situation, and he knew I could use the stress release, via his hand and my Hitachi. I said okay and we agreed he would come to my place at midnight, after a party I was hosting wrapped up.

He showed up as my last guests were leaving. He helped me tidy a few things up, which I didn’t want. It felt too comfortable; too familiar.

The kisses were nice. We went to my bedroom and got undressed. He did his usual thing with his hands, working his way up to fisting, and it took me a while to get out of my head and focus on the sensation.

I didn’t really want to keep kissing him. I buried my head in his neck and closed my eyes and concentrated on the pleasure. My body didn’t let me down; it felt great. But it felt great despite who was providing it.

He slept over, naturally. It’s what friends with benefits do, in his opinion. And to be fair, he did show up at midnight. I wasn’t going to ask him to leave.

I got a few moments of comfort from having him in my bed – after all, it’s also those things that I miss. Having a nice furry warm body in my bed next to me, a shoulder nook to rest my head upon.

The next morning we had another session. I asked him to add the Hitachi, which he was happy to do, taking it out of my drawer and handing it to me. I could feel him using his other hand jerking off. Then he removed his hand and started to shift his considerable bulk.

“Oh god,” I thought, and he moved to position himself between my legs. It’s the only sexual position he can make work, it would seem. He’d gotten close to hard enough for penetrative sex. Saying no would have been a douchebaguette move (and thanks to Balletandboxing) for that term!).

Not long after, he came with the protracted shudder I thought was awesome when it happened to very first time. This time I was mildly repulsed. I didn’t want to have penetrative sex with him.

I didn’t want his semen inside me; something I normally love.

I had to stop myself from leaping from my bed right away to go to my bathroom. I waited as long as I could stand it.

It was a mistake to have him over. Before he left he told me he was going to come to the hospital the day of my surgery.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.” I said. “My Dad is driving in to be there for me that day and night.”

“Well, whose face do you want to see when you get out of surgery, Ann? Your Dad’s or mine?”

My inner voice said ummm my Dad’s… but I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to have him come to the hospital but he obviously didn’t understand that “you don’t have to do that” is polite code for “please don’t do that.”

He thankfully didn’t hang around too long.

The next day I sent a text that said: “I wanted to say again – I’d rather it just be my Dad at the hospital. I really appreciate your offer to be there but I’m not comfortable with that. You’d be more than welcome to stop by in the evening after I get home, if you like.”

He didn’t stop by, which was more than fine by me. He’s been nice to check in regularly, I sincerely appreciate that he cares.

But I don’t care to see him again, I don’t even find our conversations all that interesting. And I definitely don’t want any “benefits” he offers.

26 thoughts on “Blech. Leo Redux.

  1. I so understand the douchbaguette feeling, but… if your head is saying no, your body is saying no, why go ahead? It’s him forcing himself on you. You didn’t want PIV. You’d signed up for hands and hitachi.
    I am terrible at realising it when it’s me in the moment. But I think we tend to want to spare men’s feelings too much, as women. And thus let them use us when we would rather they wouldn’t.
    Not long ago, I realised how many times I was sexually abused because of that cajoling tone they use to say “well, you can’t say no any more, we’ve already done so much”. The thing is, we CAN say no. And more and more, I believe we SHOULD.
    (Not trying to push blame on you at all. Just airing my latest reflections!)

    I commend you for writing that text. It took strength and you handled it very well!

    Hopefully the recovery is going well.
    XO

    • He didn’t force anything on me at all. I could have said no and didn’t. My body wasn’t saying no, although the PIV sex wasn’t great at all. I totally wanted to spare his feelings… but I own that decision. It wasn’t his fault. If I’d said no he would have stopped, instantly. He absolutely didn’t push himself on me.

    • It makes me so happy to see the use of “douchebaguette” spreading to more and more ppl.

      Also? “I am terrible at realising it when its me in the moment” rang sooooooo true. I have done quite a few things that I since regret from having been too slow to impose myself or even understand what I was feeling in these situations.

      • Yes, exactly!
        And the border is thin between the times I, like Ann, thought “Ok, we’ve gone so far, might as well give him this little bit more” done ‘willingly’ and the ‘I’ve already said no three times he doesn’t seem to want to hear me, so I’ll just lay there and wait for it to be over’ or any variation on that theme, or trying to not escalate a situation where a man three times my size grabs me by the waist and insists on walking me to my car… rather than start and make a fuss and get the other patrons attention.
        I was taught to be quiet. I was abused many times. I am trying hard to become more cognisant of it so as not to let it happen again.
        I guess what made me feel icky in Ann’s description is the way she felt afterwards. Dirty. Couldn’t wait to get clean quickly enough. But still, she waited, so as not to hurt his feelings.
        And this is so (stereo)typical of us women. Getting more aware of it will help me change faster.

        • Totes.
          I dance kizomba – it is a sensual dance, one in which the two partners have their chest touching and legs connected (think tango stance vs the more open salsa stance).

          This summer, a new student signed up. He would always hold me with his hand on my lower back – tramp stamp zone, where lower back meets butt. Thats not where a leader should hold the follower: he should hold her mid-back, even as high as the lower shoulder blades. It made me soooo uncomfortable. But I am one of the senior students – one of the faces of the school. I have been told OFTEN my personality is quite polarizing, to be careful to not alienate the new students. So, I stayed quiet, and would merely move up his hand. Every single time. Before every combo. 10-15 times per class, every week.

          I told Teacher about this, thinking he’d be proud of how well I handled the scenario. Instead, he was outraged. “Vanilla, what were you thinking, giving him permission to do that to you?” I explained I didn’t? I was diplomatically asserting myself. “Vanilla, NO. Yes, you can’t yell at a student. So then you come see the teachers. Me, my partner, the assistant teacher, and you tell us. And WE will talk to him. Don’t you see? By staying silent, you are giving him permission. He will do this to you, to my other students. I have a responsibility to create a safe, respectful environment for ALL my students, and if there is a bad apple… another student who isnt as stubborn as you might just leave, because she is too uncomfortable because of this bro. If you don’t want to stand up for yourself, and make sure ppl treat YOU with respect, that’s your problem, but don’t make the problem worse, and harm my school. I thought you were a strong woman, Vanilla. For shame. Ppl will treat you as badly as you let them.”

          Teacher isnt diplomatic, in case you didn’t notice.

          But it made me think. Why am I so uncomfortable with standing up for myself, but when Teacher points out how my silence is jeopardizing MANY other ppl, all the other women in the class, and the reputation of the dance school I so love, and even Teacher’s own rep, suddenly I am ready to speak up and do the right thing??

          https://discoveringratchet.wordpress.com/2017/07/08/that-time-i-got-trumpd/

          • Yes. For what it’s worth, I didn’t leave my abusive marriage for me, I did it for my children. Because I didn’t want them to think this was a model relationship. Took me 6 months to realise it had been abusing me, he had been abusive to ME and I was right to save my skin. But by the time I finally left, I didn’t feel worthy enough.
            Oh well! But yes, it’s in small ways like these as well as in bigger ways that we let ourselves down more than anyone else is.

  2. Uffffff…oh Ann this was a tough readXO
    From now on when I write his name (if I ever have to write his name) it will be Alanooooo
    Once the word “repulsive” enters the consciousness there is nothing either one can offer the other– nobody’s gonna win.
    Letting someone “wear you down”? At our age? Naaaaah❤️

  3. Maintaining friends with someone you have had sex with is a bit weird at times but it can work. I think it is easier for me because any relationship was always going to be temporary anyway because of my return to Australia.
    Sorry you had this experience, I have had a couple of those ugh moments myself when you just grin and bear it until the end and then know you will never ever make that mistake again!!

    • I guess yes, it would be different if you know any experience has a time limit.

      Since I can have casual sex, I could be friends with someone I’ve had sex with. But a dating relationship is different for me.

      Generally, though, I find people a bit loose with the term “friends”. I find people will say they stay friends with exes, when really it only means “we will text once in a while”…. which I don’t consider a friendship.

      “Friends with benefits” is similar…I figure unless I was friends with someone before, I’m not friends with them. I’ve never found a new guy interested in being an “activity partner” and doing things together, as well as sex. That’s what I could consider a FWB. In my experience, men who only want a casual relationship won’t put in th effort for anything other than showing up once in a while and having sex.

      I suspect this could be different for people in their 20s…. but for an older crowd it’s been true for me.

      • Yeah I have never really like the term FWB because it does imply that you are more than just fuck buddies when realistically that is all it really is. I currently have what could possibly be coined a friend with benefits in the true sense of the word but honestly I kind of think that term demeans what we have going. There is an end date to our relationship so he is really not my partner and while he lives some distance away and I leave for good in December we are currently exclusive. I just don’t want to demean what we have by calling him my FWB. He calls me his semi quasi girlfriend

  4. “who’s face do you want to see when you wake up, your dad or mine?”

    Bruh.

    Seriously???

    Unless you are my soul mate, in a committed long term relationship, my immediate family will always trump your ass. Count yourself lucky if the answer is “both of you”. But what kind of overinflated ego makes this guy think that he would be more important, a bigger relief for you in a drugged up uncomfortable state, a lesser stress when you are vulnerable and weak, THAN THE DUDE THAT BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD AND CHANGED YOUR DIAPERS????

    All the other stuff, the not speaking up in time for the sex, etc. I get. But reading that question he asked? ENRAGED me. You were so mild? I would have insta displayed major douchebaguery. “Boy, I want to see my dad’s face. Or my best friend’s face. Or my son’s face. Take a number, and get in line. Know your place.”

    WTF. Of all the things youve written about him, this one is the most alarming. Dude has NO concept of boundaries, clearly.

    • I’m sure he would say it’s all about being friends, but its funny because it’s a bit like “I’m going to force my friendship on you, even if you don’t want it”.

      I know he’s coming from a place of kindness but you’re quite right there is also ego involved.

  5. This was hard to read, particularly as I’ve spent the past several hours discussing rape online. This definitely sounds…borderline.

    Just cut this dude off altogether. Block his number, his email, unconnected from any social media, etc.

    • I don’t see it as borderline AT ALL. I gave him no reason to think I was anything but game; I don’t expect a man to be a mindreader. I completely own my decision to let it all happen.

      We aren’t connected on social media, I don’t do that. And I’m not one to block – I will just tell him I don’t want to be in contact anymore.

What do you think?