He never even told me I was pretty …

My first post-divorce fling is over. Finally. I think. Okay, I should say that I’ve ended things with MJCF (”my job comes first”) at least three times in the past six months, but I’ve always fallen for his charms. Each time, however, my patience wore a little more thin.

What did it for me, this time, was his explanation for standing me up, again: When he makes plans with his friends, it’s “maybe” they’ll get together for dinner or “maybe” they’ll play poker. (Apparently sleeping with me fell into this category of things he’d “maybe” like to do.) Then he has the nerve to not even apologize, except to say, “Sorry I screwed things up.” Not “sorry I didn’t call.” Not “sorry I didn’t e-mail.” Not “sorry I forgot in the span of three hours that I said I would come over.” When I asked him why, if he knew it would irritate me if he didn’t show up, he didn’t show up? He said, “I guess I am just weird like that.” No, asshole, it means you are just an asshole like that.

You know why I put up with so much of his lame-ass crap? Because the sex was so good. Or because the sex with my ex was so bad. In either case, for a girl who has always been lacking in confidence when it comes to appearance and desirability, it was fun to be wanted. But when I started feeling like a whore who wasn’t even getting paid — oh, how can I forget about the cup of gas-station coffee and the movie ticket he paid for? — I knew it was time that my dignity won out over my desires.

To be honest (and why shouldn’t I be?), here’s the real reason I let things go on so long: Because I truly could not believe that someone I was intimate with could have such little regard for me as a person. I didn’t really make excuses for him — hell, he has my cell, my personal e-mail, my work e-mail, my yahoo messenger name; I knew he could reach me if he wanted to — but in a way, I did. I attributed more goodness and decency to him that he deserved.

You know what bothered me most of all about MJCF? He never even told me I was pretty. Once, I even told him that smart women want to be told they’re beautiful and beautiful women want to be told they’re smart. (If I had a lipstick for every time I’ve been called “smart,” my apartment would look like Sephora.) He didn’t even take the bait. He told me that if a woman were smart, she should know that she was worth more than sex to a man. Apparently, that “man” MJCF was speaking of was not himself. It’s not even that I wanted to date him — I guess after sleeping with him for so long it just seemed like we should. But that’s always been my problem … torn between what I want and what I “should.”

So I know MJCF isn’t the only lay in the sea, but damn, the ocean seems pretty far away from the midwest …