Tag Archives: desire

You seemed so happy!

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“You seemed so happy!”

“Well, I WAS happy.”

“So why aren’t you dating him anymore?”

“Well…”

I’m having this conversation with my 10-year old niece.  She’s asking me about my Ex.  How do you explain to a child that just because one person is blissfully happy doesn’t mean the other is feeling the same – or even if both people are happy, it still doesn’t mean there’s a happy ending to the story?  How do you break it to them that life’s not a fairy tale?

I have a new guy in my world right now.  We’ve been dating about two months now.  I like him, but sadly, I don’t LIKE him.   Always respectful,  I would never lead him on or toy with him, but I’m also aware of this relationship’s limitations.

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Decision Time

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source: somecards.com

source: someecards.com

Dating Translation

We could go see a movie:  innocuous night spent hand-holding in a darkened theater with a post movie make-out session.
Or
You could come over and watch a movie: let’s roll around, sweaty and naked, in my bed!

I’m seeing him again on Wednesday.  He gave me these choices.  It’s been a very long time since I’ve “come over to watch a movie” – a very, very long time.  I really need to come over and watch a movie – in fact,  I need to watch a dozen or so movies.  I think that’s why I haven’t been sleeping well.  If I mess this up, I may not get a chance to come over and watch a movie again for a while, but yet I hesitate.

I agreed to go see a movie – not to come over, yet.  My body says “YES! Right now!” but my mind wants to wait.  I’m concerned that I’m postponing for unrealistic reasons, waiting for a certain someone to come around –  who never will.

p.s. when TG asked me what I did this weekend, I told him the truth – I went on a date.  Suppressing what looked like surprise, he didn’t ask questions. It probably hurt me more than it did him, but he looked like I had just punched him in the gut.

Everything Bagels vs. White Bread

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An everything bagel from Morningside Heights' Absolute Bagels.(niznoz/Flickr)

An everything bagel from Morningside Heights’ Absolute Bagels.(niznoz/Flickr)

As a follow up to my last post, I want to talk about attraction.  I’ve read a number of books – in fact, I just read one recently – that instruct women to “give the boring guy a chance”.  If these experts are to be believed, it seems that men are divided into two very broad categories:

Type 1: Boring/Nice/Husbands/Marrying Types – White Bread

Type 2: Interesting/Creative/Sexy/Bastards (?) – Everything Bagels

According to these authors, if you want a healthy, trusting, loving relationship, you have to convince yourself to love a Type 1 and give them a chance to show you their nascent Type 2 qualities.   I’m an everything bagel woman.  I will never be content with a white bread man.  Just as a gay man can’t “learn” to be straight, I’m never going to “learn” to love a Type 1.  Sure, I can suppress my genuine desires; tamp down what I really want for the comfort and security of Mr. Boring, but will that actually make me happy?   Using this weekend as a microcosm, Friday was Type 1 and Sunday was Type 2.

These books just assume that Type 2 guys are “bad boys”.  I don’t like bad boys – I don’t seek out bad boys; I’m wise enough to know they are bad news.  Bad boys and fascinating, imaginative, arty men are different beasts.   Since when does Roget list “asshole” as a synonym for creative and interesting?  Why can’t a Type 2 also be a loving, caring and nice guy?  Who says they have to be bastards?   Can’t there be a Type 3:

Type 3:  Interesting/Creative/Sexy/Loving and Nice

Why don’t these relationship self-help books tell us to seek the whole enchilada? Why does it have to be dull/nice or exciting/jerks?  There’s got to be Type 3’s in the world, right?

What I want – right now. Friday at 3:09

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I want to go to my yoga class tonight. I want to practice until I’m hot and sweaty and my arms are weak. I want to call him on my way home, tell him to meet me. I want to peel off my damp yoga clothes and show him how much I’ve missed him, how flexible class has made me. I want to see his strength. I want to be left trembling on the bed.

Tantric

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He calls to me within three steps of entering the yoga studio.  His voice carries throughout.  His class is beginning, mine has just ended.  We embrace – a comingling of my perspiration and his aridity.

Him:   Wow, your hair. Betty Page?

Me:    Yeah, Betty Page.  (really Louise Brooks, but what does he know)

Him:  Do you want to live the Betty Page lifestyle?

Me:     (absentmindedly) I already do.

Him:   Really, wow, we haven’t talked lately.  I didn’t know that about you.

I feel his married wolf-eyes watching me as I move to the side of the room, pulling a periwinkle-blue tee shirt over my sweaty yoga halter and wrapping myself in my scarf.  I move towards the door. I don’t look up.