Tag Archives: crushes

…and I thought this was going to be funny!

So…when I began writing about all this divorce and dating garbage a few months ago, I somehow imagined that I would be having all kinds of interesting relationship experiences that I could write about, and that I would encounter lots of different men and have countless hilarious tales to tell about these meetings…

And that has not happened.

Why?

Well, it’s dawning on me, as it may have also on you, that working full-time and parenting the other full-time consumes a hella chunk o’ time. And there’s not much left for dating or meeting people or romantic or ridiculous encounters of any time. And, frankly, the filtering part of online dating eats up so much time that I’d just as soon spend some QT with my gals.

So, aside from the whole Chi-guy situation, which is funny on general principle alone, and the humor in which has very little to do with the way I tell the story, I have to face facts:  I am just not that funny! Not that funny anymore, at any rate. Sure, the bright side is that I’m blessed with a full range of emotions and that, overall, writing about all this stuff has been rather cathartic.

Yet all this makes me think back to more frivolous times, when I was light-hearted and delightful and embodied all manner of other characterizations inclusive of lightness, frivolity, fun and laughter…and I wonder, am I not there? What has happened to the witty, vivacious me?

I realize that, at home each night with grammar school-aged children, it’s easy to be silly. Silly is one thing; funny is quite another. And I used to be funny!

Of course, I am thinking about all this because I’ve discovered The Blogess who, as you might have already guessed, is Funny with a capital f! She does, naturally, have a relationship to write about…so no end to the potential for humorous fodder.

Oh, I know that I’m in there (here) all right. The irreverent, playful ol’ gal comes out to play at least every other weekend and sometimes more often. In recalling her (me), I am reminded of how much fun it was to come home to another playful adult during the times things were grand and we were, indeed, mirthful together.

Funny comes much more naturally when it has someone to bounce off of.

(And, yes, I’m fully aware that I should not be ending my sentences with a preposition, Bitch!)


are my feelings finally growing up?

There are things I don’t reveal here …and maybe shouldn’t ever reveal. Not every entry lends itself to complete and full-on truth. It’s not a journal I’m writing here; it’s a blog. And I want to shape each entry, to create form, something like a chapter. So I give about 95% and keep just a little sliver to myself, to enjoy, to revel in knowing a secret — my own secrets.

But here’s something I want to be straight about that I wasn’t really before. I was really attached to the idea of Chi-guy for a long time. And then I met more-like-it. In one 75-minute meeting, all of that attachment to a man in Chicago was snapped completely.

Don’t get me wrong, the love is still there. It’s a deep, true, generous and heartfelt concern for a truly wonderful human. But I’m detached about it now. I’m in a more mature place with it; I have a more objective perspective. Sometimes when Chi-guy and I talk now, we joke about the naughty things we’re going to do to one another when we see each other… but we make no plans to see each other. And if we did see each other, I’m fairly confident that we’re both going to live in the moment and do whatever feels right with acceptance, compassion, presence and love, whether that’s talking or touching or crying or laughing or gettin’ jiggy.

So the thought has crossed my mind more than once that more-like-it is someone who came into my life solely for the purposes of breaking the Chi-guy spell, proving there are more options, reminding me that really awesome guys live in this city and — this is my girlfriends’ summation — reminding me what type of man is “in my league.” Maybe that’s it, yet…

All this talk about more-like-it could easily lead one to believe that I’m hung up on him. But it’s not really like that. What I’ve felt all along is more like intrigue, a general interest in spending more time (which I’ve enjoyed) to see if I like him. I mean, I like him…yet I don’t know whether I like him. I’m not sure yet…I’m simply drawn in, curious. There’s been no instant infatuation, just an undercurrent of desire to see what might be around the next corner.

And, maybe because it doesn’t feel urgent or intense, my own feelings seem more mature. It’s not the kind of thing that Elizabeth Gilbert so eloquently wrote in Committed, “puts me through the wood chipper.” Maybe that’s why I want to feel more of it, and why I’m open to noticing and experiencing that feeling, from whatever direction it may come.


deconstructing attraction

Most of us are pretty good at noticing when we’re attracted to someone. And often, we don’t take the time to analyze why or what it all means. So let’s take a moment to break this down:

  • There’s the obvious physical attraction, which may have to do with appearance, style, smile, eyes, pheromones or any number of other external characteristics.
  • There’s intellectual attraction, which I’ll define as getting turned on by the way someone thinks or expresses himself, and is often experienced when you get the feeling you could talk to the guy forever and never get bored. Of course, this needn’t require the object of affection to be a genius. Sometimes simply being able to hold a conversation and have presence and attention is enough. And we’ll lump those things into this category.
  • And there’s emotional attraction. It’s a bit slippery to try to define this one, because for women it often gets muddled right into the other two without a lot of thought. We often mistake an intellectual connection for an emotional bond. In fact, many of us (both men and women) use the words “think” and “feel” interchangeably at times.

Yet I’ve been learning that there’s a distinct difference for men. Men can be attracted physically and intellectually to a wonderful woman, and still not feel an emotional connection to her. They may want enjoy conversation with her, totally want to bone her and still not be drawn to her. (All this is the summary version of what I’ve learned on relationship expert Chris Carter’s site.)

As both an intelligent and highly physical women, this is a difficult concept for me to get my arms around. I never thought too much about it, because chemistry seemed to come so easily and naturally for me — and it was usually mutual. But I am beginning to understand my part in emotionally attracting men, which is to use those “I feel” statements relationship expert Rori Raye talks about. Learning to do so is forcing me to be more authentic and in the moment in all of my daily interactions, whether with men or women, in person or over the phone.

While this way of communicating is not entirely intuitive to me and I sometimes have to think about it, I like the response I’m getting. I can feel myself drawing others in. And maybe somewhere along the way I’ll draw in some special guy with some super ninja emotional magnetism!


so, I finally got some…

It’s rather pathetic, don’t you think, that I feel the need to announce publicly each and every time I get a little action?

The lobbyist was in town, we exchanged some texts and, after scrambling for a babysitter, found time to meet for a cocktail. And when someone invites you to meet in the lobby bar of his hotel and you agree, it’s pretty much understood what’s on the agenda.

So, it was all good (not great). I was struck by noticing that it’s simple human touch that I miss the most. I just loved being kissed and caressed. But, truth be told, we’ve always had this insanely hot undercurrent of chemistry…the kind which might lead a girl to believe that a man so straight-laced and mild-mannered might be an absolute animal in the bedroom. I mean, I kind of hoped he might have really wild and kinky proclivities underneath it all. Guess what? He didn’t. He was just a straight-laced, mild-mannered guy — exactly what you see when he wears a suit.

And it was still lovely to be touched, kissed and appreciated, and to lie in a man’s arms.


on drunk dialing / texting

Last weekend…

I’m home from a Memorial weekend barbecue and I’ve had two whole drinks which, when one imbibes as much as I do (rarely or not at all), can render me word-slurring inebriated. And of course my natural instinct is to dial up or text Chi-guy or more-like-it or some other obscure item from my past. So I thought I’d see if I can write instead and make a go of musing about what sort of foolish crap might come out of my mouth if I actual did dial someone up.

First of all, if I did dial Chi-guy, would he be amused or annoyed with me? He no longer drinks at all, remember. He is charming and sweet and long-suffering, as far as I can tell. And, the last time we were together, he suggested I order an after-dinner drink…which were listed under “Happy Endings” on the menu. I thought briefly about suggesting that he might give me one instead which, frankly, might have opened that whole discussion a little less awkwardly. In any case, Chi-guy treats me with a certain combination of “you’re so sweet!” and “you’re a total slut!” and condescension. I know that sounds bad, but it’s actually a great balance of hysterically funny and positively charming, without being syrupy sweet. Sure, I’d watch the tone very closely if ever I were to spend time with him, but the jabs that could be mean are so well timed and outright hilarious that it’s difficult to imagine that he could ever mean harm. That said, a couple years into a relationship, one views things entirely differently…

If I texted more-like-it, would he respond? I haven’t told you that we communicate regularly, weirdly. What is that, anyway? What is that “I know you’re looking for something special, so I’m out. Hey how’s your week going?” WTF? A man who wants to be friends, really? So why are we always talking about sex? Especially when his online dating profile clearly stated he didn’t want to be friends with benefits? Yeah, I’m a little confused about that one.

But all that’s cool. Here’s why:  because I’m not chasing men. If a guy is interested, he’s going to be absolutely certain I know. Hell, even the guy in the adjacent cubicle at work has made clear he finds me attractive, even without saying anything out of line. If anything, it’s me who’s exhibited the appallingly bad behavior. I am simply not cut out for corporate HR departments…how the hell would I deal with me in a similar situation?!

So thank you for listening to my mojito-induced blather…and for keeping me out of trouble! Good night.


do men notice or appreciate toe cleavage?

It was only a few months ago that I first heard of toe cleavage…and I thought, “is that really a thing?”

So when some girlfriends recently commented on a cute pair of shoes that highlighted my toe cleavage, I thought about it again: Do men really notice this sort of thing? And, if they do, do they find it sexy?

So my curiosity led me to take an informal poll among the few men who are regularly a part of my ongoing male-female relationship dynamic conversation. Here are their responses:

  • The lobbyist:  “No and definitely not.” Further inquiry / pushing the issue led to “Yuk!”
  • Chi-guy:  “No and no. I like that you are secure enough to talk about your totally weird foot fetish.” Followed by, “Actual cleavage is often noticed… Anyway, I notice kindness.” And later, “I’ll suck your toes while you whisper kind things…”
  • more-like-it:  “I enjoy nice feet… Love to massage them…” followed by a very graphic description of a sexual position / activity to which I could only reply, “You’re naughty!”
  • By far the best response came from the guy in the cubicle next to me who I clearly should not have even asked (Hello HR!), but did:  He nodded thoughtfully and said ever so diplomatically, “Mm-hmm. Different guys notice different aspects of a woman’s appearance to different degrees. Some guys are going to be in to feet, some are more in to other things.”

For the record, I don’t have a foot fetish myself. I’m just not grossed out by feet (as long as a certain level of hygiene is employed), and I appreciate having my own feet enjoyed. I take care to keep them looking nice, and I like having them rubbed, and I think it’s lovely when a man isn’t afraid to pay a little attention to the lowly feet and toes as a part of physical intimacy.

So, there you have it. There are men who are completely foot-phobic. And, while it’s a little, simple thing, this whole discussion clearly illustrates that the kind of guy who is grossed out by feet is not the guy for me.


have I mentioned what my mother thinks?

My mother has just popped in for a visit… I’m not sure whether I’ve explicitly mentioned this or not:  my mother thinks Chi-guy rocks. Why?

Because I told her what happened in Chicago last Labor Day Weekend. I told her that I’d been flirting with a guy I’ve long known, that I was pretty sure we were going to sleep together and that, although I’d made my interest known, he patted me on the knee, told me he liked me and bid me goodnight…potentially the single most humiliating experience of my life.

Her response: “So you finally met a decent man!”

To which I might ask, “what kind of mother-f$#%ing c@#%-sucker would let a girl believe he was good to go and then turn her down?”

Even having seen a photo of “The Hammer” (yes, I’ve actually showed my mother), she thinks he must be pretty great. (Of course, anyone who’s seen the hammer thinks he’s pretty great!)

But let’s take a step back and analyze this train of thought:  it would appear that my mother, who has never once met or spoken with Chi-guy, thinks he is fabulous based only on his refusal to sleep with me. Because of some weird “he liked me” whatever thing that was going on with him. Which struck me as very high school at the time.

So let’s consider the fact that most of the men in the world have not slept with me. And this fact is not due entirely to refusals, but also my own good sense. In fact, while Chi-guy might tease me about being easy, this is not entirely the case. True, I’ve been probably too honest with him about my post-divorce escapades… yet I am, in fact, very selective.

There are an awful lot of men I haven’t slept with. To be sure, I haven’t slept with most men. I haven’t even slept with most single men within in a given desirable age range and aesthetic within a five-mile radius. Does this make them all fabulous potential mates? According to my mother’s reasoning, one might think so…or perhaps it might only if they turned me down.

Chi-guy laughs at all this talk. He has suggested that I should certainly consider allowing someone else to make choices for me, given the poor judgment I’ve exhibited in the past. (But good Lord, so has my mother! And, let us remember, Chi-guy’s marriage also ended in divorce.) Were I to delve into the topic of arranged marriage, it could take several posts. So, for now, let’s just say that I will happily accept the consequences of my own choices…I think.