funerals and wild women

Funerals and Wild Women.

As predicted, my Friday night also didn’t work out as expected. When the contractor made plans with me, he gave me a heads up that depending on his work schedule it may not pan out. Having dated several contractors, I’m now pretty knowledgeable about their work life restrictions, so didn’t expect to see him.

At least he didn’t ghost this time. A long text arrived early Friday morning that he had to work late that night and all weekend. It was no problem. Ann 2.1 welcomes time to write.

I worked late Friday night and left the office only when my stomach told me I should. Zane once asked when I “got off work” and I had to explain it simply doesn’t happen that way for me. I work until what I need to get done is done, but I also often control the schedule and can choose to leave at 4 pm on a Friday and do the rest over the weekend. But not this Friday.

Continue reading

Monday night: Tony and a different kind of workout

I wish I could write about my new fitness regime, like some, but I haven’t quite gotten there yet. My head has been up my ass with work and life. Emotional health, but not physical. Sex has been my only exercise.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I did get back on skates last week, which was terribly nerve-wracking given my accident a year ago… but very satisfying once I did it. I was proud of myself. And didn’t fall. I’m getting on skis for the first time in 20 years this weekend…keep your fingers crossed for me.

I did pretty well with my physical health for a while. I’d been seeing my personal trainer for over a year, except my stuck-on-the-couch-because-I-was-broken phase. Last Fall, he got fired from the private fitness center he worked at because he refused to work extended hours. He was amazing and I didn’t want to work with someone else. I was also irritated at how management dealt with letting me know, so there’s been no personal training for me.  Continue reading

personal growth

I was going to write about Gentleman Douchebags…

…but I realized, while sitting at my kitchen island and drinking hot apple cider as a way to stave off the deep chill (literal, not metaphorical), it’s all about the stories we tell ourselves. When we think about our past, or our personal growth, what is the narrative we believe to be true, and how does it prevent us from seeing our behavior for what it actually is… or what we actually are?

I’ve created some mental space in my life by not seeking out anyone new and deleting those who haven’t made an effort. Yes, there are some men still around, but none are taking up much of my time or energy. I’ve been on an almost two-week vacation and have enjoyed time alone as it’s allowed me to focus on my book.

In trying to decide what to write about, I’ve done a lot of reflection on my journey. I’ve looked at every single blog post I’ve written. I’ve remembered men and experiences long-forgotten.  Continue reading

Finding peace in my analytical mind.

Even when I’m super busy with work like I am right now, my brain seems to whirr in the background, trying to analyze and solve puzzles.

For example, was it really possible a reader who I don’t know in real life, could have known a man I was dating and recognized him from my writing?

Well, the answer is YES. And now I know who. 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

Men who work with their hands.

I was fed up with the bullshit of recent events. It got so bad, my personal trainer, hearing a new disaster or story every week, asked me if I played the lottery because my luck was so bad with men it had to be good elsewhere.

So one recent night, bolstered with a bit of liquid courage, I said “fuck this shit”. If I really wanted someone in my life, I needed to seriously get back in the game. I had opened my Bumble profile a few weeks prior and it was lackluster so far – quite literally, nothing to write about.

I already had open profiles on Coffee Meets Bagel and the League, both which took about 5 minutes of effort each day to say whether I liked the one or two men they served up, and yielded absolutely nothing.  Continue reading

No, you’re not going crazy.

Edit: I removed the ability to make comments on this post. Given what was being said, it’s the kind of commentary I didn’t want my friend to have to read – one reason I didn’t post the whole story in the first place. I was angry, but I’ve moved past it. Life is too short and friendships are too valuable. I know you’ll understand.

::

Some of you may have seen a notification of a post called “Well that was a bad idea.” You’re not crazy. But it was published and taken down within a matter of minutes. It was a mistake.

It doesn’t happen often that I elect to take down posts – in fact, only twice in the history of my blog. When I was breaking up with fellow blogger Johnny Id I steadfastly refused to do anything but post it all here. We met as bloggers, he knew I wrote about everything, and I prioritized my need to keep this space as my own, with my truth, over keeping it private between us.  It was divisive and ugly.

There’s a difference between knowing the truth and seeing it shared publicly.

However, the story of Ali / Sevag / HWSNBN was removed because I was quite literally being threatened. My personal safety was in question and as much as I wanted to keep the story up, it wasn’t worth the risk.

This time, the thing that is a risk is a friendship, and ultimately, as much as I wrote a post that I think is balanced and fair, and is from my perspective, there’s a friend on the other end.

So what the fuck happened,? I met that guy for a coffee date. It was amazing: the aftermath wasn’t. Turns out I shouldn’t go on dates where there are blurred lines between the guy and one of my friends. I should have known better. So it’s done with him.

#clusterfuck

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

dating like teenagers

What are we, 16?

There was the epic makeout session that felt like the long-ago days of being in the basement, listening for parents feet on the stairs so as not to get caught with tongues down throats and hands down pants. The early days of dating can be so much fun.

There is the feeling of not being able to get enough of someone.

I’m not relationship dumb like I was at 16, but it doesn’t mean I’m not acting like a teen at times. Continue reading

He opened his eyes

He opened his eyes.

After a weekend with our respective children, Jack and I had a date. It’s a blossoming early relationship.

Midway through the day, we connected to finalize plans. He told me he was sorry but he wasn’t going to see me as early as expected: he had to go to the hospital to visit his parent. It was going to be 9 pm before he would arrive.

I was disappointed but obviously understood a critically ill parent took precedence, especially given he hadn’t been able to visit for a few days due to his move. I asked him what he wanted to do and he said he wanted to go for a late bite to eat, have a drink, and go back to my place. Deal. Continue reading