No, that’s not a typo. Tony, who a year ago moved back in with his wife after a separation of almost two years, is getting a divorce.
He mentioned it succinctly in a discussion about the things stressing him out. I’d known about the work stuff, but divorce wasn’t what I was expecting. Some things clicked into place – how he was able to be at my place over a weekend, and an offhand comment that we wouldn’t need to use the burner number soon.
I know the man well enough to know peppering him with questions wasn’t the way to go. I told him I was sorry to hear it. I asked if it was for real, and he said it was. I could see his tears just under the surface.
I told my Instagram people on both my Ann St. Vincent and my real life account that I was taking a break for a while. I found myself doing dumb things like looking at certain men’s accounts who I was trying to move beyond. It was silly and unproductive.
I went through all of my messaging accounts and deleted the men who I was hoping would maybe come back, but knew they wouldn’t. In WhatsApp, I even deleted the archived exchanges (after downloading them, in case I ever wanted to reference them for the blog). The temptation is too strong when I see a text history.
Expectation management: it’s a thing. Having no or low expectations means they are more likely to be exceeded. Hope is the enemy of expectation management. But what is better? Regular dating disappointment with occasional glimmers of excitement, or never having the pain?
In investing, we talk about risk-reward. High-risk investments are those more likely to provide higher gains. But they could also wipe out your savings. Conversely, advisors will tell you the earlier you can get in the market the better, even with small amounts and low-risk investment vehicles.
Given my experiences this year, I’ve been thinking about the number of dating disasters I’ve had. It occurred to me it could have more to do with the volume of men I’ve met, than consistent bad choices or inherent bad luck. In other words, if I’ve met one hundred men and had twenty crap experiences, it’s not a worse track record than someone who meets ten and has only two to speak of. Continue reading →
I slept terribly the last few nights. Normally I’m asleep not five minutes after my head hits the pillow, and I sleep through the night. Issues with relationships fill my mind.
Last night I woke up multiple times. My head was spinning. I’m cycling through so many emotions. Being familiar with the change curve intellectually only helps me to recognize what I’m going through. It doesn’t make going through it any easier.
I think y’all have figured out I have a big brain so I won’t be modest in this moment. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have the capacity to think the way I do. It’s not always a blessing. Continue reading →
Gregory told me once he didn’t believe in fate or things happening for a reason. It was a happy accident the Tinder algorithm decided to show my profile to him. I don’t know what I believe – is it true you get what you put out into the universe? That the universe sends you signs all the time, the key is being open to them?
Could it be someone or something cares enough about what I do that Gregory finding out about my blog is the universe punishing me for any perceived misdeeds with Tony?
I don’t know. I’m a practical sort: I actually don’t spend a lot of my time thinking those big universe type thoughts. I’d like to believe in karma and reincarnation. According to a noted psychic, in one of my past lives, I was a very powerful healer. Dunno. But I do live my life as if it’s the only one I have. Continue reading →
It’s hard to believe what I’ve been told. A reader who doesn’t know me in real life happened to know a new guy I’m dating and recognized him from my blog? Maybe I should start playing the lottery.
I’ve wondered if Harper was the reader and only realized it was me when he read my posts about him. But honest to god, the chances are so remote. I don’t have that many readers. I don’t come up in any Internet searches about the kinks he may have looked for. The only one that drives consistent traffic is “making a fuck machine” and most people don’t stick around to read anything else. They are actually looking for instructions.
We arrived at my place, got inside, I took off my coat, and Gregory was on me instantly. Gone were the perfect kisses I liked. They were replaced by full tongue-down-my-throat action. I don’t know I can call them kisses, I don’t know what the hell they are. I usually end up not knowing exactly what to do.
Those kisses are gross, guys. I feel skewered and unable to react. There’s a difference between a momentary thrust of a tongue down a throat… but keep it there? A whole lot of NOPE.
He didn’t want wine, he only wanted me. We stood in the same place for a while – his hands all over me, his tongue down my throat – until we agreed to go upstairs. Once again, we didn’t spend any time on my couch.
All the Harper posts are down, as you may notice. He informed me today that a friend of his told him about my blog. Someone who doesn’t know my real life identity, apparently. Which seems inconceivable, but given I seem to be insanely unlucky with ugly coincidences, I suppose it’s plausible.
He read a bit about himself. Not sure if he read anything else.
So that’s it. He “called it”. Said he needed his life to be simple. We’d only been on two dates, he just got out of his 25-year marriage, and was busy traveling in December… all said to impress on me that his ending it was no big deal.
There was nothing I could say to change his mind. I apologized via text after we hung up the phone and said while yes, we’d only had two dates, I felt a compatibility I’d rarely found and hoped at some point he’d reconsider.
Then I sat at my kitchen counter sobbing for a good long while: loss of potential is far worse for me than a relationship which runs its course. And to be denied potential because of this blog gutted me.