And It’s Him, Part Deux

To say that it gets complicated on this site I visit is an understatement. It doesn’t get complicated, it becomes a hot shitty. A mess of unhappily married men, looking to spice up their lives.

But I find myself returning. And this time I’ve found another who frightens me. He frightens me because I feel it again.

Damn I feel it. The same way I feel with Him. And we know how that ended, right?

I know I have a type. And I wonder, too, how I can learn to balance this.

If the definition of insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting different results, I’ll take the crazy any day.

The weird past is it doesn’t take long to figure out who it’s going to be, once they appear. Because I’ll stay up late to speak to him. Keep my phone near to chat with him. And fuck off everything else for a taste of his time.

Will I get my happily ever after? No. But is it worth the risk? Hells yeah. I’m in … again.

I don’t know much about his family yet. But I know about him. And it’s frightening how I feel right now – the adrenaline rush, the anticipation … the Him, part deux.

He said today how nice it was to be able to confide in someone again. I felt his introspection later when he spoke of college and his part – wistfulness that he made mistakes that can’t be undone.

He is communicating all the right things and wow … it’s gonna be wrong.

Here we go again. Hopefully I’ve learned more this time. We’ll just have to see.

And I Have Miles To Go …

I spent 2 1/2 weeks … away. No computer. No cell phone. Nothing … Well nothing and too much. But I had pen and paper. And when the music finally returned to my head, I knew it was time to begin writing again.

So … today … I will be typing. And trying to remember and forget all at once.

And I Can Still Amuse Myself …

With the idea of men. They honestly believe they are special … different somehow than the rest. And I test them on it. And they fail … miserably. My friend said, “sexcapades.” And I laughed. Because when it comes down to it, I’m not having sex … at all. With anyone. But men don’t believe that.

I’ve perhaps become too jaded. Or hopefully it’s just more discerning. I go out. And I drink. And so one would assume … but be careful about those assumptions.

And don’t underestimate me.

I’m always paying attention … even when you believe I’m not. And at the end of the night, I still operate under my own terms. My own bizarre sense of logic.

And I wake up in the morning … alone. And I am soooo perfectly OK with that.

Were I not, hell, I could change it. But not today … not today.

My Once Future, Now Current Ex

I’ve not showered today. I’ve not eaten today. All I’ve really done is written, read, re-written and read more … just to put off the inevitability of writing about the one thing I don’t think I’m ready to write about yet.

But I write what I know. And even though I still don’t know all, I know my parts.

My next ex and I met the old fashioned way, over the internet .  I was full-fledged into the behavior I know now as, “I’m getting a divorce.” It consists mainly of 2 parts alcohol, 1 part denial, 1 part dating to forget the motherfucker.

And I was in full swing. My first ex and I were getting nasty – like him stealing the child nasty – and I wasn’t coping, at all.

I imagine most believe R was my rebound, but that’s not true either. I had my rebound during the end of the marriage and the beginning of the cycle.

R. We met. I used my meager “allowance” to sign up for a month on the service, so he and I could communicate.

And we communicated well. So well, in fact, that we had our first and last date a few weeks later.

To say I never went home isn’t completely true, but it’s close. He took me to a nice place for dinner. We drank. A lot.

We went to his house afterward. His nephew was there, awake, waiting. And holy hell. He went to school with my daughter.

Smart, funny, acerbic, anti-establishment – those are the traits he put off. Those are the ones he cultivates.

We had sex, of course. And he insisted I stay. I had no car, so it wasn’t really a choice.

The next day he had a toothbrush (new) for me. He took his time. He didn’t want to take me to my car, but I insisted. I mean, I’m a girl. It’s bad enough to do the walk of shame, but to do it in his little gated, golf community … well … yeah.

But he made me promise to return that day. And I did. And I went home every other day after that to clean up, take care of the mail and the cats. And go back to his house.

It was refreshing. He was charming. And good looking. And he’d … yeah … never been married. So?

So, then he told me, when it was just the two of us …

“I’m into S&M and you need to know that,” he told me. Well, ok. I mean I had an understanding of it. At least I thought I did. Whips, chains, handcuffs, blindfolds, easy enough, right?

Yeah no.

And Doesn’t It Always Go Back To Your Past?

How do you write about a childhood you don’t remember? My best friend, S, has memories dating back to four. I don’t.

I have stories – the ones told to me by my mother or my siblings – but they aren’t my memories.

I do remember a few things: riding my bike without training wheels, the neighbors in Houston who had the kitchen I always wanted, visiting my Dad at Johnson Space Center once when he worked there … bits and pieces, no rhyme or reason.

Then we moved. And I don’t remember much about that either. I was in first grade. We were reading Pug when I moved. They hadn’t caught up yet.

The shame I felt when my dad picked me up in his cab – he’d been laid off and we relocated to a town my mom used to live and they bought the cab company.

Standing at school one day, waiting for my sister to pick me up. She never showed.

How much I loved my dad. And how he used to love me, too. I think.

How he slapped me when I was six and back talked him. How he slapped me when I was 17 because I was outside talking to a guy.

And how I never realized until later on, our home was a facade. I realize everyone’s is … to an extent … but we perfected it to an art form.

No one talks about what goes on inside the family – even to one another. It’s just the rule.

And each of us, typically, has different memories – even of the others’ upbringing.

My brother – he’s unscathed – at least from all appearances. I wonder sometimes if he’s operating under the ignorance is bliss model.

My second eldest, my lesbian sister, who used to have “friends” spend holidays with us. Even at 10, I knew this was ludicrous. She was a lesbian. But not in our family. No way.

She was a gifted violist. I found this out later … when I grew up. Julliard was looking at her.

They told her they’d be back to see her the next year – in Houston. And we were gone. And she was angry. I think she still is, and I suppose I don’t blame her.

But my dad. My first love. He somehow, somewhere, one day just stopped liking me. And I never got it.

My friend and I were talking about this the other day. His dad is equally distant. Re-married to a controlling woman, he sits back and takes orders.

My dad, while not seemingly so, does to a degree. Mom hates – dad complies.

And, S said it … the same thing we’d talked about all week. Men are very simple. Fathers are men ergo; fathers must be simple, too.

So carrying it over psychologically, I know why I love the unavailable man. I’m not an idiot. I’ve just not done anything to change it.

But I thought my dad was superhuman.

He’s not.

But I know who is in our family – my eldest. My big sister. My idol turned nemesis. And the CEO of our little corporate family.

And she, by God, deserves a lot of space. And I’ll give it to her willingly. No strings, sis. Not like the ones you put on me. And my mother, her puppet. What a combination they make.

And if there were a hell, I would gladly see them burn. Gladly.

To Be Expounded Upon

When I am done with the flu kicking my ass.

Men … If Only They Knew

Tragically, most are the same … at least the ones I’ve spoken to. And still, with the exception of two I’ve had relationships with.

“Don’t you want to suck my cock?” Seriously? If that’s the best opener you have … move the fuck on.

I’ve seen too many things at this stage in my life. Perhaps, when I was 20, I would be flattered or grateful or maybe even willing. But once you cross over, there’s really no going back.

When you have two relationships where the sex was actually incredible, mind blowing and … yeah … even spiritual, how can you entertain the swinging dick types? I can’t. I won’t. I would rather be alone.

And that’s what I’ve gotten at 40. The best gifts ever. The knowledge that sex isn’t about lying there there and being pumped by some dude. It’s about reciprocity, it’s about fun, and it’s about bringing one another closer to God. “The moment of most intense pleasure in sexual intercourse.”

And guys, if you think just thrusting your penis inside a woman makes her orgasm, you have a lot to learn.

But you won’t learn it through a search engine. I just searched for definition of an orgasm, and most every one was about men. Like 98 percent or more on the first page. Well, damn. I wish you guys luck. Because it’s a skill you must WANT to have …….. and few I’ve known did.

Hell Hath No Fury ….

Like being bullied, yelled at and screamed at by the now official ex today.

Nothing to do with this at all …. Nope. Just because he can’t control me anymore, nor can he yell at me until I’m hysterical anymore. I let him today — lesson learned.
And so again, I see why it had to end. Funny how you forget the bad … and it can bite you in the ass.

And It Was Natural

I saw MM today for the first time since the last time … when we were “together.” Fairly apropos … as my divorce was final Friday.
But, no, we didn’t fool around … really, that’s the thing about he and I. We fell back naturally into the friendship.
I call that a success. I even convinced him to meet some of my new friends … in public … at my place (where I hang out). And surprisingly he both went and had fun doing so.
He brought me a gift … lol … an amateur video. We watched it together. He did a lot of editing on it, and I was friggin impressed.
And when he walked in, I was finishing my makeup, my hair was still wet and he told me he liked it.
I’d forgotten he’d not seen it since I cut it all of in a fit of anger in June.
But … sans any expectations … we fell back in the same routine … we talked … a lot. And he challenged me on my marriage and subsequent divorce.
MM always prefaces with … “I hope this doesn’t make you angry.” It doesn’t. Never has. He is honest, and it’s one of the things I’ve always appreciated about our friendship. He challenges me. Makes me think.
And we went back to the home where I stay and he played the guitar — mostly for himself — he saw an instrument and picked it up. But it was cool.
And I walked him out and hugged him goodbye.
But I know that we will still always be friends. He’s one of the few I am honest with. And that is a big deal.
Plus, by watching the video, I told him that I felt more inspired to write more about what we had and did.
So that’s what I am going to work on. But not tonight. Tonight … well … I think I’ve slept two hours in the past two days.

To Be Continued … As Always

My divorce will be final in seven days. And I have spent the last two grueling days in court, on unrelated things. So … I am catching my breath. And looking for work … and doing my damndest to stay out of trouble. But there are always stories, and I believe the best are yet to come.