The perfect booty call: Lewis

Last Friday, I came home in the evening from some international work travel. It was one of those trips where I leave one afternoon, stay overnight, have an intense work day, then fly home. A booty call was not what I was hoping for.

I had made plans to see a girlfriend that night and canceled. I was exhausted emotionally and physically and wanted to cocoon in my own house.

Dan (the plumber) and I had earlier discussed I could possibly see him after I’d seen my girlfriend. I texted to tell him I’d canceled those plans and why, and if he wanted to come over and hang out he’d be welcome. 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

Finally done with John.

It was Wednesday, and John did a decent job during the day of chilling out. He sent only a few texts about Friday’s plans. He said he was going to bring food, his guitar, and his favorite movie and I wouldn’t have to do a thing. It sounded pretty good.

He’d asked again whether he could come over that night, and I’d said I needed a quiet night. While it was true, it was also because I wanted – needed – to create some space between the two of us in the hopes he’d relax about things. I told him I’d chalked up the previous day’s texting debacle to temporary insanity.

I was putting Liam to bed and noticed a series of texts come in. John said “Fuck it I’m coming over to see you. I’ll just hop in the shower first.” Continue reading

John starts on a high note, then descends…

Previous Post

A reminder, you can always check out my “men in the mix” page to get the latest on the men I’m writing about. It’s all spoilers, all the time!

John drove me home, we parked his car and I invited him into my house. In my kitchen, as I poured him a drink, he went for it. Arms around me, mouth on the back of my neck, pushing me up against my kitchen counter.

I discovered this man in his late 50s had the libido of a 20-year-old. We got pretty heated on my main floor and I decided what the hell, I’d take him upstairs.  Continue reading

The plumber, another poet, and the lumber guy.

I love the conversations I have with Hyacinth when we are confused about the male topics of conversation. “Which one is he again, Ann?” she’ll exclaim, “you know I can’t keep any of them straight!”

Admittedly, between the two of us, it is a little difficult. There are too many men with the same name or same characteristics.

And right now, I’m very behind. I could have written five posts about John already. Looking at the week ahead I know I won’t get caught up, so this is my attempt to do a round up to the current date (pardon the pun). My “men in the mix” page is proving very helpful for me, but not sure if anyone else is taking a look. I just updated it, if you’re interested.  Continue reading

Completely fine with foiled plans.

Note: I hadn’t finished this post when the can’t do this” text came in from Bruce. So it’s a little out of order…

::

On Monday night, I was certain I was going to have a busy week of casual lovers. I’d been with Todd on Sunday night. I had plans with Jake for Tuesday and tentative plans with Clark for Thursday. It felt rather hedonistic.

Sunday night with Todd was exactly what I needed. I was out-of-town for work, arriving in the late evening by plane, and he drove two hours just to see me. We ended up barely talking. Over discussions about American football at the hotel lobby bar, he connected with a colleague of mine. When I met Todd at the bar, I couldn’t exactly ignore my colleague, so we ended up talking more than Todd and I. 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

I put my own oxygen mask on first.

This topic has been rumbling around in my back of my head for a few years, but I didn’t know how to articulate it until now.

How do I prioritize my life? What is my life made up of? Friends, family, my child, work, and my own needs, including dating/sex.

I’ve said many times that since my split, rebuilding relationships with friends and family has been a priority. I can confidently say I’ve made it happen, and of this, I’m very proud. Continue reading

Claude.

He is #9 on my list. The only man who has had sex with me in three of my four decades – at 18, 24, and (spoiler alert!) 43. We missed my 30s due to marriage. My first and only serious foreign crush – one which went from desire to implementation after a few years of hoping.

We met in France the summer I was 15, on the cusp of 16. My father and step-mother had signed us all up for month-long language classes in a beautiful university town. We stayed in campus housing. In the classic style of my father, my class was supposed to be for age 18 and over, but he signed me up anyway. They never checked.  Continue reading