I’ve traveled to a new place.

I can’t pinpoint a specific trigger.

This built over over time, piece by piece. Moments of clarity, frustration, solitude, and heartbreak in the last four-and-a-half years have culminated in the place I am today. As someone said to me recently, we are, after all, the result of the good and bad decisions we’ve made.

Regardless how I got here, I’m here. And it’s pretty awesome.

I am, at present, without romantic yearning or expectations.

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The more John tries, the more I back away

John had promised to chill out and stop talking about being exclusive and where things were going with us. I wasn’t convinced it could happen, but I wanted to give him a try.

It was now Tuesday. He managed to keep the text traffic to a minimum that day. He knew things were very busy for me at work. He didn’t have a job. I told him when I got home: I had Liam.

He sent a list of all the dates we were going to have by the end of the week, saying I should be in love with him about 20% by Friday. I knew he was trying to be funny, but it only served to make me feel that he really wasn’t listening to my ask of him to take things slow.

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John is romantic; I am irritated.

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Forgot in my prior post to mention that during the game, John had trouble figuring out how to set the lock screen on his Android phone. We figured it out and his choice for lock screen picture was…. the picture I’d sent him of myself. I died a little inside… it seemed WAY too much for me. He also Facebook friend requested me, and I told him I wasn’t accepting it because it was way too soon. But I let it go.

Monday morning he sent me a few song lyrics he wrote for me (hence my reference to him as a poet). It was nice, but I chafed a little at his over-the-top romanticism. Continue reading

The plumber checks my pipes.

We had a solid pre clearance date. It didn’t end in a kiss because while we were inside talking over a drink, the temperature dropped several degrees and in his shorts, he was far too cold outside to stand on the street and make out.

It was probably just as well, because given how great our kissing chemistry proved to be, we may have made a spectacle of ourselves on that busy street.

He gets up ridiculously early every morning for a 6 am start time. I’m learning this is the downside of dating tradesmen. He asks me how my day is going, he’s been up for hours, and I’m still waking up.  Continue reading

He’s a lying sack of shit.

Jack and I spoke last week midweek. I’m not sure I will ever speak to him again.

He’d asked for a copy of the dating story about us I’d written for a local paper. We’d had a brief text exchange in which he said “you can text me anytime”, to which I replied given he was so bad at responding with any speed it didn’t make me want to text him. He said he was in therapy and was learning that not replying was a form of control for him.

I called him because I didn’t want my reply to be spread out over the course of several days. I said my issue was that a lack of response was inconsiderate and disrespectful. He sounded like crap. I asked if the therapy was helping and he said he’d had only two sessions so far. He said he’d talked to his ex-girlfriend which helped him process things, but she had little time for it because she had already worked through it. Shocker. Continue reading

Alan breaks the 5-minute barrier by a long shot

While I’m doing a great job not getting ahead of myself with Alan – or writing him off too fast – I will admit I was a wee bit worried sex with him was going to be unsatisfying.

While I’m hardly the model of athleticism (despite some new muscles gained from 6 months of twice-weekly visits to my trainer) I can fuck like a demon. I can only think of a few men who made me beg for no more sex. And that includes a fair number much younger than I.

If sex had prizes, I’m told I would win “best rider” and “most insatiable”. I have no idea whether the men who said it were genuine, and I don’t particularly care. I mention it only to demonstrate that despite any extra padding around my middle and my ass, I’m a champion fucker. Continue reading

The slowest dating start, perhaps ever.

Well, that’s what it feels like right now. This. Is. Super. Frustrating.

Back to the first conversation Ian and I had. We’d talked about concerts we’d seen and those on our list. I told him the only remaining musician on my concert bucket list is Prince.

Prince is dead. Fuck.

We joked a bit back and forth and said goodnight. The last text I sent him that night was a Prince meme. Continue reading

I’m getting bored with the dialogue in my head.

I’m on a many hour plane ride home. After watching two movies on a small screen, I started “A Little Chaos” (love Kate Winslet) and re-read some old posts. That Kate is pretty distracting but even still, I read the same themes over and over in my writing.

I detest my ability to summarize six months of a relationship with Tony in just a few thoughts: We got along amazingly, I fell in love with him, he intended to love me back, he couldn’t, I struggled to let him go.

Yet I wrote tens of thousands of words exploring that basic truth. Thanks for sticking with me.

And now to Fox? I feel the same thing is happening again.  Continue reading

Getting an opportunity to not make the same mistakes twice.

I don’t live a life of regret.

Looking back on all the men I’ve had sex with (which is a LOT), there are fewer than five I wish weren’t on that list. Why? Because I didn’t really want to have sex with them yet I did anyway.

And it took me a long time to stop doing that. I was too focussed on their wanting me it didn’t occur to me I could say no and there would be more to come. Probably a legacy of not getting something from my relationship with my father, but I’ve largely moved past that now.

I think we only accept bad behaviour when we don’t know of the alternative, or we don’t know we are worthy of more. Or we tell ourselves the things we do get outweigh the other stuff.

For me, the latter is the most pervasive. I am a queen of justification and rationalization and nuance. Hy calls me out on that regularly. It’s the downside of my fascination with why people do what they do. It’s easy to lose sight of the behaviour staring me right in the face.

It would be easy to regret my marriage to Will. In many ways, I felt I came back to life two years ago when we split. Which would imply I was dead for the 15 I was with him. It’s true in some regards – passion and sex being the notable examples – but not in others. It also wasn’t his fault. It started with me and my reaction to an early broken heart which was never repaired.

In work and in life I have a strong sense of personal accountability. Unlike so many people’s revisionist history narratives, I don’t take the easy or simplistic route of vilifying Will for the breakdown in our marriage. I choose to believe I probably hurt him as much as he hurt me.

Which leads me to mistakes. I’ve made a few (yes,now that song is in my head).

[And BTW have I mentioned lately I sometimes detest the WordPress editing on a phone? I lost the rest of the my content on all my mistakes… yet another mistake…]

I’ve already talked a lot about what drew me to Will and how I justified his complexity as something I needed, since I was bored with nice guys. I hadn’t dated anyone who was nice and who had a backbone. Nice and weak or spineless I cannot do. That was a mistake and I’m working through how not to make it again – Fox is testing that ability.

But even more fundamental are some of my personality traits and how I react in a relationship. Will and I were badly matched in love languages. I need affection and quality time. He needed gifts and words.

I was angry with him when he gave me expensive gifts. I appreciated them but I thought he could have spent less money and I just wanted us to do things together. It was a sore point throughout our marriage. But I also stubbornly refused to see it his way. He wanted gifts, I thought they were wasted money, therefore I didn’t buy them for him. (and no, I don’t mean ever. But he wanted expensive things and I didn’t cave).

Which brings me to Fox. 

I’m pretty sure he and I have different love languages. At least, I am learning that words mean more to him than they do to me. I am not particularly sentimental, and he is. I have a thick skin and am not easily wounded, and he’s rather high maintenance.

At least, that’s how I see it. 

And hence exactly my point: when Fox texted me last weeek that we needed to talk about his emotional needs, my response was an eyeroll and a big sigh. I will likely write more about it but I thought it was ridiculous, given the situation which prompted it.

And that, my friends, is a mistake I want to avoid. I can be judgmental. If I think something is silly I’m less inclined to be accommodating. 

Yet I’m dating a man who is really quite amazing to me. I’m pretty sure he would do anything to me. But I’m not the same. 

And that’s the mistake. But I have an opportunity to make some changes, and I will try to do so.

If I had a sex bucket list, an item would be crossed off.

I don’t have a sex bucket list. I actually find the notion to be limiting rather than freeing.


I suppose I’ve actually already done a hell of a lot, so there’s that. I was 18 when I had my first MFM threesome.

But, I can only add things I am aware of (and I’m constantly learning of new sexual things out there). If I don’t check something off a list, not only does it run counter to my nature, it makes me feel like I’ve failed.

Also, because I’m driven to cross things off my lists and I hate to fail, it could drive me to do something just because it’s on my list, rather than because the situation and person is right.

Bottom line is, for me, it engenders the wrong behavior and has the chance to limit and hurt.

I’m weird that way I guess.

That’s not to suggest there aren’t things I want to try. They are in my head, not written down, and I wait for the magic trifecta of right time, place, and person (or persons!).

Tuesday night was one of those nights. Continue reading