Bruce: he of the magic…

Bruce and I had our second date the evening he came back from a vacation with friends and family. Because he didn’t know exactly what the drive would be like, we didn’t have an exact time set.

He kept in touch with me though and I found it quite courteous. He called the moment he had steady cell service – with his kids in the car – to give me an update on the rough time. He also called when he finally got home, and then when he was about 15 minutes away.

Such a stark contrast to Kyle, where I was left wondering whether our dates were still on, hours before they were supposed to occur. 

Bruce and I hadn’t talked about what we were going to do, so the default was dinner somewhere in my neighbourhood. He knocked on my door and didn’t greet me with a kiss.

I wasn’t fussed – he seems ever so slightly awkward in these situations. After all, I had to ask him to kiss me goodbye on our first date. He was super game once I broke the seal, but he seemed rather clueless until then. 

He said as much to me on our first date – that he doesn’t know when women are hitting on him. It’s hard to believe a tall, handsome, and muscular guy doesn’t have good game, but he genuinely seems to not.

Or he’s a player and he knows exactly what playing dumb does to a woman. But that’s a hooded Kermit thought right there.

I offered him a beer and after he checked out my main floor and I poured myself a drink, we sat on my couch and talked. After our second drinks, we decided it was time to go eat – it was already 9:30pm.

whoops! I hit publish instead of “save draft”… so I’m gonna leave this here but I didn’t mean to write a cliffhanger!

Three rejections does not a happy Ann make.

I am not happy. I am angry and sad and hurt. I know it won’t last, but rejection in any aggregate form is really difficult. I suppose by now I should be used to the peaks and valleys of dating, but as much as my brain knows it, it still takes my heart by surprise.

First, there was Jack. Thank you, Maggie, for the parable…I’m still carrying him in my head and need to get him out. It hasn’t helped that Liam has been away so I’ve only seen him once in three weeks. My child is a huge help for having my head in the right place.

I was behind on posts about Ray but now I’m sure it’s worth catching up. We had three dates in total and many more conversations. He would greet me in the morning via text and ask to call me to say goodnight. It was nice. He was nice. The chemistry wasn’t mind blowing but it was good enough to keep going to see how things progressed. Continue reading

You can train for Axe, but not for kindness.

Life has been a little hectic the last few weeks. Not just with sex parties and disappointment, but also time with friends and some additional work responsibilities that have made my days far more intense.

I didn’t want to get too behind on writing so I put up two posts about Ray, the one who reached out on FetLife and with whom I had an unconventional but nice first date.

Some of you may have noticed I didn’t talk much about Ray; just how things went down with us. It was deliberate but only so I could get through the date itself. He’s an interesting guy and is yet another man who makes me think through what I want, versus what I actually need, and how the two intersect. Continue reading

Some rules are made to be broken.

It started with a simple status update on FetLife, a site I haven’t been active on in eighteen months. I’d gone to reply to a message from a photographer who wanted to do a photo shoot with me and noticed I still referenced Tony in my profile.

I must have shown up on search results because within 24 hours I received several messages from men. One stood out:

“Loved your profile, I like women who enjoy being shared, double penetration, gangbangs. I don’t post much on my profile, I am somewhat old fashioned in this regard, I like approaching someone I consider interesting. Continue reading

A death in the friend family.

He was a friend, admirer, and protector. Never a lover. He was like the older brother I never had. 

A decade-plus older with way more work experience, he was one of the first colleagues to help me understand how good of a leader I actually am. He was crusty and opinionated but looked up to me. As an independent contractor he could work with anyone, and he chose to work for me. I was humbled by his praise.

I was blessed by his presence in my life.

During one of the projects we worked together on he took a pastry course. We all looked forward to Wednesday mornings when the treats would arrive. Never fully satisfied with his work, he rebuffed our compliments, said through stuffed mouths. He always showed up on time to my parties. He was single the whole time I knew him and at first I assumed he was gay. Turned out after his last long-term relationship he’d tired of trying, and spent his time doting on his nieces and nephews. But he always had relationship advice for me.

He was the one who called me the day after my party, where HWSNBN lost his shit, to make sure I was okay. He made me promise to end it and offered to do anything I needed to keep me safe.

At my party, HWSNBN had told him to “fuck off” after he made a nice comment about my legs. Blind with jealousy, HWSNBN couldn’t see the friendship and teasing behind the comment. And his anger at my friend helped cement his demise. No asshole was going to come between me and the people I choose to surround myself with.

The last time I saw him he sat in one of my comfy chairs, joked about my cast, then quietly disclosed his recent absence from my life was due to depression, not a physical illness as I’d feared. He was starting to realize it was okay to share, but knew his pride and stubborn nature got in the way. 

We promised to see each other soon.

That was February. 

And now I mourn the loss. His death was sudden and unexpected, and a reminder to try to live every day as if it was not only my last day, but my friends and family’s as well.

How long before I say its over?

My Dad asked me how long it takes for me to know someone isn’t right for me, how long to assess relationship compatibility? A pretty good question, frankly.

I talked about how I know within minutes how good the intellectual chemistry is with someone. On the positive extreme there was Tony and now Jack. We have that elusive quick-witted and humorous banter. On the other extreme are men with whom the conversation is forced or dull. I can make a conversation happen with anyone, but I don’t want to have to do all the work.

It’s similar with physical chemistry. The very good and very bad are sussed out during the first kiss. I also know whether any first-time sex awkwardness is due to needing to learn each other, versus terrible physical chemistry. Continue reading

dating Jack

Starting to settle in: dating Jack

The conversations with Jack are starting to meld together. It’s the problem when living my life outpaces my ability to write about it. I’m going to try to get caught up with this post with our dating status.

We had the kind of fourth date made necessary by single parentdom: a late night visit. It was a three-act play similar to the third date: a drink on my couch with lots of conversation, moving to my bedroom for some good sex, and then talking far too late into the wee hours of the morning.

This time, instead of waiting for me to suggest it, he asked to take me upstairs. I liked it.  Continue reading

Travel drama replaces man drama. 

A cousin of mine lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, and her son and mine got along famously the last time we had a family reunion. For almost two years, Liam has asked when we would visit: we chose Easter weekend.
I’ve never had such a comedy of errors while travelling, and for someone who has done a significant amount of business and personal travel, that’s saying something. Continue reading

Coming back to life.

There’s been enough drama with Leo that I haven’t written about my injury and recovery lately.

The combination of a broken bone and extensive ligament damage means it’s been a long haul. Over two months in a non weight-bearing cast, then a month in a walking boot. I have a plate and several screws in my leg and I have a beautiful 5″ scar on the outside of my ankle.

I still walk with pain and with a limp, and because of that limp I have pain in my tailbone, which fucking sucks. My ankle and foot remain swollen and it could be the same for many more months. I’ve just been diagnosed with needing two months of physiotherapy, 3-5 times a week. How I’m going to find time for that I have no idea. Continue reading

I can still get really angry – at Tony

I am writing this post fresh. Freshly angry. Apologies in advance for a lack of editing and shitty structure.

You’ll surely recall he (Tony) fucked me on Christmas eve, in the midst of family-oriented errands. He was fully ensconced in family time for Christmas and days afterwards. So naturally, he didn’t reach out. I am not part of that part of his life.

Which honestly down to my core was just fine – because it helped me put more nails in the coffin of what was left of our relationship.

It boils down to this: Continue reading