the new suitor

Zane is interested; I’m flattered

The attention of a new suitor feels amazing. I also need to be careful, since I’m somewhat… um… delicate at the moment. The volume of dating failures this year has hit me hard and I recognize some nice attention may blind me to yellow or red flags.

My desire for simplicity and focus on the right things hasn’t changed. I haven’t suddenly decided I’m getting back in the dating game. But I remain open to possibility.

No matter what, I am certainly not immune to the attention and flattery of a younger handsome gentleman. Continue reading

The universe has a sense of humor.

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

sex talk texting

Talking about sex with the new guy I’m dating.

I don’t think I breathed until I saw Gregory’s reply: “Trust me, nothing shocks me.”

“Good”

“And so have I done those things”

“Phew”

“And that answer was fluff, testing the water”

Yes, of course it was. It was already nerve-wracking enough telling him something I rarely tell anyone. So I said “It’s a big risk to talk about this stuff. I have found men either can’t handle it because it’s intimidating, or they feel insecure about it. Or worse, I stop being a fully fleshed-out woman and become only about sex.” Continue reading

First Tinder Date

Gregory in my kitchen.

Gregory was now in my kitchen but I wasn’t quite sure what to do next. It was late, past 11 pm, and I knew I didn’t want to end up with him in my bed. This was one first date I wanted to take a little slow.

I offered him something to drink and he chose water. He’d driven to the date so I would have been surprised if he’d asked for alcohol. He looked around my main floor and commented on a variety of things which caught his eye. He loved the art. He made note of the vinyl and my gramophone: love of music is something we have in common.

It seemed obvious he was interested in me by his sheer presence, late at night on a work night, several hours after our date started. I was very aware where he was standing relative to me, but didn’t want to make the first physical move.

Continue reading

catfish

They aren’t catfish, but are just as bad.

This may need a new dating term – someone who uses their actual pictures, but who lies about their purpose for being online. They may actually be single as they profess, but they aren’t seeking dating or a relationship. Here’s another story of my being catfished.

The only thing they want is to get off on pictures and a sexually-charged chat.

Some may be willing to speak on the phone, but most aren’t. Some are very clever at how they present and interact, and it’s hard to realize they are not-quite-catfish.

This has happened to me three times in two weeks.  Continue reading

Sorry Ann, I need to get my shit together.

Bruce’s eventual response to my text suggesting he stay overnight to avoid having to drive back and forth tonight:

Ann

I don’t know how to say this … so I’m just gonna say it 

I can’t see anyone right now 

I’m too stressed 

I need to get my life together before I add people to it.

I am depressed … anxious… don’t feel like being around anyone right now. 

Sorry Ann

I need to get my shit together

Sigh. Continue reading

Bruce needs to get his shit together.

I’ve been home from my trip for almost three weeks. In that time, I’ve seen Bruce for a grand total of one hour, on a day I rearranged my schedule to work from home in the morning so he could stop by my place between job sites. It wasn’t quality time; he’d eaten something that didn’t agree with him so was sick to his stomach. We had sex which lasted eight minutes.

That’s it.

One hour in three weeks. A grand total of three in-person meetings in the two months since I met him. One after-work drink, one dinner, and a morning quickie.  Continue reading

The time I created serious drama with Bruce.

Previous post.

My heart sank. OH FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK I thought. I texted back immediately “Oh shit. I’m so sorry.”

I was standing in my bathroom and steadied myself on my doorway as tears welled up. It’s over, I thought. I fucked up, doesn’t matter if it was an honest mistake. He’s going to think I’m crazy and now I’ve caused drama.

I took some deep breaths.

He replied: “No, my bad, don’t know phone numbers…”

“I was really worried about you.”

“Thanks for the concern, talk soon.” 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.