Things with MJCF took on an almost-surreal tone today. He e-mailed me this morning while he was at work and we chatted for an hour or so. I finally told him I was going to log off to take a shower and get going on my day. He made a mildly suggestive comment or two, and I ended the conversation by telling him he could stop by if he wanted (wink, wink). Much to my surprise, he did.
For two hours, we sat on my couch and talked and read the paper together.
He didn’t even kiss me until he was leaving.
While we were on the couch, he had his arm around me, and we touched a lot … but no kissing, no “making out,” and definitely no sex.
You know what? It was comfortable. It was refreshing. It was, well, just nice to act like that with him. (But I still wanted to tear his clothes off when he kissed me.)
He knows what I am looking for, so I’m not going to make any more excuses for him. Either he’ll step up to the plate or he won’t. To be honest, the two hours spent snuggling with him on the couch was more satisfying than a physical encounter would have been. I just don’t know if I have the strength to get wrapped up in this again.
At least my learning curve is getting shorter.
So Friday night MJCF e-mailed me for the first time in over a month, and we chatted for an hour or so, on and off. Today, it was two more hours during the day and another two or so tonight. Around 11 p.m., hooking up with him seemed like a good idea (okay, a bad idea but it seemed like fun). Then he got all weird, saying he didn’t want me to think that the only reason he contacted me was for a booty call. He wanted to talk with me. Then, after dropping hints for hours, he does a 180 and says he needs to get some sleep.
Okay. What? Time out. He’s getting pissy because I want to use him? Fuck this shit. I’m going to be out of town or busy the next three weekends and a good portion of the time during the week.
He knows what I’m looking for and I don’t think he can give it to me. If he asks me out on a proper date, I may go. But I can’t sleep with him. I can’t climb on that runaway train once again. He’s not going to change. I can only change how I react to him.
Here’s the really sad thing: The thought of sharing a bed with him was almost as appealing as the thought of having sex with him. If I know he can’t give me something, why do I still want him to?
It’s Saturday night, and I’ve been parked in front of the TV for a while. I posted a few new photos to my online profile and have been trolling the ads. Much to my surprise, MJCF sent me an instant message. I haven’t talked to him in weeks, and it’s been probably six weeks since I’ve seen him. He SO was trying to get laid, even telling me that he hasn’t had his “birthday lay” yet. The reason I stopped seeing him is that what we were doing felt cheap. He knows that I want to be with a man with whom I had an emotional connection. He didn’t push the issue tonight, aside from making it very clear he was still interested in me sexually. Wonder if I’ll hear from him again …
My mom raised me to be independent. She wanted me to be able to take care of myself. Because my dad was an active alcoholic until I was about 12 years old, I always thought she didn’t want me to feel “stuck” in a relationship with someone like him. The irony is that while I’m perfectly able to take care of myself, I’m not able to let anyone take care of me.
It’s very difficult for me to rely on someone, or to even admit that I need a certain person in my life. In a kind of weird, self-fulfilling-prophecy sort of thing, I tend to choose men that I can’t rely on, that will disappoint me. So the lesson I teach myself is that I’m right to not get close because I will be hurt.
What is so scary about trusting another person?
Why don’t I trust my own judgment?
I’m feeling sorry for myself.
I’ve dealt with more than my fair share of clinical depression, and I know how I’m feeling now isn’t that. I’m just pitying myself because (1) I’m broke (2) because I overspent (3) because I’m lonely (4) because … well, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?
My profile is posted on a well-known dating site. Over the past few weeks, I’ve receieved e-mails from several men, most of whom I’ve e-mailed back. The exchanges may last for a few days or a week but then … nothing. No dates, no drinks, no phone calls.
I don’t know whether to think the problem is me or them. Do I seem too eager? Or disinterested? Are they busy? Or just seeing who’s out there?
I try to tell myself that it’s not really me that’s being rejected — it’s the idea of me that I’ve expressed in a few hundred words.
I don’t know.
I just need to buck up.
Or maybe I should wallow in my blue mood for a few more days.
I may be lonely, but at least I know I’m not alone.
In the words of my beloved Matthew Good, “This ain’t real baby, I’ve got a better excuse for myself. I’m always here.”
I went to the birthday party of a friend of a friend today; the birthday boy is my age while my friend is about 20 years older. The party was at the birthday boy’s home, which is in a part of the city one would delicately say is being “revitalized.” He’s renovating the house, and it wasn’t until I saw the “before” photos that I was able to appreciate the current status of the place.
Anyway, there were about 10 people there when friend and I arrived; I knew no one. One guy caught my eye immediately … he was tall and thin with a shaved head. His eyes captivated me … they were a deep brown. He kind of resembled Peter Gabriel, whom I have adored for, hell, going on 20 years now, but a much younger version of the older Peter, if that makes sense.
I was chit-chatting, but out of the corner of my eye, I kept seeing this guy. Because the birthday boy is gay and because there was another man seated next to this guy (albeit in a separate chair), I assumed this guy was gay, too. But I noticed that he was looking at me as much as I was looking at him.
Sidetrack to explore my psyche: Dating back to junior high, I have always assumed that if a man acts like he is interested in me, it is because he is just being nice — or worse, feels sorry for me. I know that I am attractive, funny, intelligent, blah blah blah, but I have never been able to get over the teasing I endured while I was younger. I’ve forgotten his name, his face, any identifying characteristic, except that one asshole a year older than me “asked” me to dance at the Halloween Dance when I was in 8th grade … except he was laughing and all of his friends were laughing. Thanks, jackass, for the imprint you made on me. Back to the present …
My friend decided she was ready to leave but I had to use the restroom first. I was waiting in the hallway outside of the bathroom, as it was occupied; I felt like a total loser because there was a group of people like 10 feet away in the kitchen and there I stood, by myself. So I’m standing there, when cute guy came into the kitchen, looked over at me, then walked over to where I stood. He introduced himself, saying he was visiting for the week from another state; he asked my name, then asked how I knew the birthday boy. He thought it was really funny when I said that I didn’t. We talked for a few minutes until the bathroom was free; so then I had my crisis of confidence, thinking, was he just talking to me because I looked so damn pathetic???
When I went back into the main room, he was standing on the edge of the group with his beer and I was torn — basically, if he lived in the city I would have gone over and stood by him to talk, the fact that my friend wanted to leave be damned. But my friend stood up to leave and as we were gathering our stuff, cute guy came over. We brought our own chairs to sit on, and I was flustered, not able to fold mine or pick it up. He started to get mine and my friend — bless her heart, she had no idea — said, “No, we’ve got it!” Aaagh.
In one of my first posts, I alluded to an “affair” I had with a sexually confused guy; until I met him I looked at sexuality as an “either or” thing. Either you were gay or you were straight. “Bi” meant you were gay but in denial. Post-John, however, I see things a little differently. I also tend to assume “gay” more than I probably should, if only to keep myself from getting hurt. Take this guy tonight … if I tag him as “gay,” then it means he was just being nice to me. If he is “straight,” however, then he found me attractive and oh my God, that just opens up another can of scary worms as far as I’m concerned — because I am terrified that a man will think that I am dull and boring once he gets to know the real “me” and leave me for someone infinitely more fascinating. That I can reveal the core of myself and it still may not be enough scares me beyond belief.
What is with boys and phone “problems”?
First there was MJCF, whom you’ll remember from a few posts ago. He NEVER once answered his phone when I called (which, really, wasn’t all that often … but still!). Either he was in a bar and didn’t hear it ring/feel it vibrate, or he swore on all that was holy that the phone was right next to him and it did not ring. Whatever.
So now his sorry ass is out of the picture and now potential new guy (PNG) #1 is on the scene. PNG1 is one of the aforementioned “bagel boys,” as he’s about four years younger. He e-mailed me last week after seeing my profile/pic on a well-known dating site. His e-mails were actually well-written and referred to things in my profile and prior e-mails I sent, plus he is funny and cute, at least in his photos. Anyway, after a few e-mails back and forth, he sent me his phone number, so I thought, what the hell, and called. No answer. It rang about a zillion times and I finally got his voice mail. That was Wednesday night.
No return calls or e-mails Thursday or Friday … Finally, Friday afternoon I e-mailed him, basically saying, did you get my message?! I figured if I didn’t hear from him, he was no longer interested for whatever reason.
He e-mailed me back, saying he had been having a lot of problems with his phone and didn’t know he had any voice mails until he took the phone in for service. My first thought was, whatever, you lying sack of shit. But then I remembered the residual bitterness from MJCF and thought that may be clouding my judgment …
A few months ago I went out with this guy, DLS (doctoral-level student) a few times. We had a great connection on the phone — we’d talk for two hours at a time — but in person he turned out to be whiny and needy. So I’m a little gun shy about spending a lot of time talking on the phone when we could just meet for a drink after work. That’s exactly what I suggested to PNG1 in an e-mail this morning.
I’ll forgive the phone incident — as long as it doesn’t happen again. I’ve learned that a man who is interested will reach a woman no matter what — hell, I once had a guy call me four times a day from California while he was out there for business; each time he had a break, he was on the horn to me for a few minutes at a time — and excuses at the beginning do not bode well for any future relationship.
So if PNG1 balks at the drinks idea, then … NEXT! But I hope not. It’s only mid-July, not too late for a summer romance …
What I’m Listening To Today:
“Hole in the Head” and “Too Lost in You” by the Sugababes. Check ‘em out if you like sassy girls. You know you do.
1. In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel
2. Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac
3. Weapon by Matthew Good
4. New Favorite by Alison Krauss
5. I Would Die 4 U/Baby I’m A Star by Prince
6. Be Near Me by ABC
7. Do The Walls Come Down by Carly Simon
8. Precious Box by George Michael
9. Wonderwall by Oasis/Ryan Adams
10. Why by Annie Lennox
11. The Old Apartment by Barenaked Ladies
12. Don’t Cha by the Pussycat Dolls
Still no final agreement between the NHL players’ association and the owners. Ugh. I would SO love to see a Wings game when I go home to Detroit for Thanksgiving. There are very few attractive hockey players, but Brendan Shanahan of the Wings is one of them. Yum.
In other news, I’ve been e-mailing back and forth with one of the previously mentioned “bagel boys” since Sunday. In addition to being cuuuuuuuute, he actually seems to have a sense of humor and can put a sentence together. Oh, and he plays hockey — which is crazy, because no one around here likes hockey. He sent me his phone number tonight so I think I’ll give him a call tomorrow evening.
I still dread these first phone calls/meetings. I always worry that I won’t have anything to say, but that rarely happens. I need to internalize that I am 30 years old, not 12, and act like a freakin’ adult!
In other, other news, I went to a great concert tonight: Alison Krauss and Union Station. Her voice is unbelievable and she is just cute as a button. It’s always nice to see someone talented who happens to be pretty, instead of someone who is considered talented because she’s pretty.
This weekend I received e-mails from two new “interests” on match.com. They are both about five years younger than me — and I can’t figure that out. In fact, all but one of the guys I’ve gone out with since I started dating in January have been younger than me. Back in the day, we viewed a woman as “desperate” if she went out with someone younger … like, can’t she get anyone her own age?
Remember Cher and her younger man, Rob Camilleti? That story fascinated me in the ’80s. He worked at a bagel shop while she was Cher. Occasionally, I read something about them and it seems like he’s been in and out of her life for years. Cher’s been called a lot of things, but I don’t think “desperate” is one of them. Honestly, what woman wouldn’t want her sexual confidence?
What bothers me the most about the idea of dating a younger man is that one day, he will tire “trade me in” for someone his own age. But that BS goes back to childhood issues that, despite 18 months of therapy, I can’t resolve: One of my fears is that people are only nice to me because they feel sorry for me. I know I know I know that’s not true … but during times of self-doubt, the childhood memories of being overweight and wearing glasses and braces — coupled with being painfully shy — surface. I’m desperate for someone to validate my attractiveness, but when I hear the words “You’re so beautiful,” hell no, I don’t believe it.
At first I was weirded out by my parade of younger suitors, but if a man (1) doesn’t still live with his parents, (2) has a job and (3) earns a decent living, I’m all for it. Maybe some of their youthful enthusiasm will eventually rub off on me.
iVillage article about older women, younger men couples in Hollywood
