love triangle

I have a thing for a man at the office. It’s odd, really: He’s not the tallest nor darkest nor handsomest man around, yet my insides turn to mush when I run into him in an elevator or hallway; I blush and prattle on nervously when he chats me up; I thrill at the sound of his voice…

And I’ve no indication he feels anything for me.

Another guy at the office does have a thing for me. His feelings are, perhaps, every bit as strong and real and enduring as mine for the other. And I don’t feel the same way.

Isn’t that just the way of things? We don’t want what is offered to us but, rather, what is unattainable or impossible. (Note to self: stop believing this nonsense and perhaps it will go away!)

Far too many daisies have been plucked apart, petal by petal, in my imagination; far too much mental energy consumed with musings and fantasies. This confounding desire has driven me to distraction. It must come to a stop.

Were it only so easily done as said! If only all the mental math and magic I’ve invested had a payout at the end! Yet things are always sweeter and better when they come as a surprise, so I shall let go, step back and trust that higher powers have my best interests at heart.

You have my oath:

I shall stop trying to influence the outcome. I shall be a vessel of feminine energy. I shall stop envisioning him lustfully impaling me atop a credenza…

On second thought, that is a rather racy and enticing vision; it would be masochistic not to allow myself that much.

rites of passage

This was the school year during which my daughter first told me she had a boyfriend. In fact, it was the first year she even expressed interest in any boy.

Her boyfriend, who I met on more than one occasion, was painfully shy. He came to dinner and giggled across the table at my son, eyes and body averted from my daughter to his side.

I suspect the whole of this fifth grade “dating” experience had more to do with status than anything else. “Going with” a boy meant being liked, being chosen. It meant being part of a special group, along with her best friends who had also been chosen.

I suppose it should have come as no surprise that, in the last several weeks of school, my girl told me she had broken up with her boyfriend… My daughter called her guy over during recess and told him, “This isn’t working out.” As it turned out, many of the fifth-grade couples had split — all at the girls’ initiation — within days of each other.

The mothers and I sat around after a school event one evening and discussed this phenomenon, suddenly realizing it wasn’t all that different from what we would have done as we reached the end of middle school or high school or, in many cases, college. After all, who wants to be tied down when something new and exciting is around the corner? And, I hate to say it, but especially when that new and exciting thing includes a whole new group of boys, older boys.

Single is the new status symbol…at least until middle school starts.

another online departure

I’ve taken a break from the online thing again…I just stopped checking messages and became bored with it. Further, I wasn’t the new girl any longer. The quality of attention had gone downhill.

Still, out of curiosity, I took a last glance at my top matches before departing, digging a little deeper where I found a fellow interesting. One of those who at first appeared to be a strong match answered some questions about sex this way:

Have you ever had sex with someone within an hour of meeting them?

His answer: Yes.

Would you ever consider sleeping with someone on a first date?

His answer: Yes.

Would you still be able to respect someone after sleeping with him or her on the first date?

His answer: No.

Do you prefer that you or your partner be more dominant?

His answer: Partner.

I’ve seen red flags before — and sometimes I’ve met men whose questionable or contradictory answers have had perfectly reasonable explanations. Many times, the questions have enough answers so that one or more seems to fit and the answer really depends on one’s mood or perception of the question at the moment.

Still, I looked at this series of questions — and there may have been more of them interspersed that didn’t stand out to me in the same way these three did — and I thought, “Okay. I’m out.” And then I removed my account.

How would you interpret these questions all answered by a single person? Does anyone else read hypocrite written between the lines?

dance with me, mr. adorkable

Here is an attempted re-creation of an instant message / chat session with the fellow who kissed me two weeks ago and then…nothing. Okay, the odd flirty text or so. And this, with the man I shall now refer to as mr. adorkable:

…

Him: im such a dork!

Me: u r adorkable…which is hardly as embarrassing as me practically throwing myself at you off and on for the better part of a year (with no discernible results, I might add)…i can only hope you’ve found it more flattering than repugnant

Him: on and off?

Me: mostly on

Him: top?

Me: you’re the one with the c in your title…you’re in charge

Him: my bold advances are always followed by retreat. embarrassing!

Me: indeed

…

This exchange took place as I searched a variety of travel applications on my mobile for nearby hotel rooms, fantasizing that we might be able to leave our respective offices early and meet in between for a couple of hours. Alas, it was not to happen.

And so I spent my evening on a date with another less interesting (though nice enough) chap and, while the band played, imagined mr. adorkable’s hand was pressing in the small of my back, our bodies close and that this very public act of dancing, while socially acceptable and appearing to be innocent, was charged with enough desire for it to be considered foreplay.

You see, one of the truly dorky things I happen to know about mr. adorkable is that he has some experience with ballroom dancing…and, while I’ve no formal training, I’m fairly adept at following a strong leader on the dance floor. After brains and status, perhaps the sexiest thing a man can be is confident enough to have (and confess) such an obscure interest — particularly one that suggests that he knows how to move his hips, that he can lead and presumably has a sense of rhythm.

Imagine the fantasy: We opt for drinks at his place one evening. He turns on the stereo and mixes us each a drink. Something romantic and jazzy comes on…something like “Sugar in My Bowl” by Nina Simone. I suggest he ask me to dance. He takes my hand and pulls me close. The energy between us is intoxicating. We move together, very slowly. I can feel his breath hot on my skin. He teases my lips with his, then moves onto my neck and down to my collarbone. Slowly, with each song, he removes one piece of my clothing. I do the same, first loosening his tie, then unbuttoning his shirt, eventually unbuckling his belt… We are still swaying together in our undergarments as the sky grows dark, parts of our bodies taut with anticipation until, finally, he leads me to the bed…

That, my friends, should explain the dire situation in which I find myself today: mind in a fog of fantasy, confused about what thoughts or intentions he might have, and with batteries run out. Help.

defenseless

Finding love at my age is a completely different endeavor than I ever might have imagined. I find myself surrounded by swarms of attractive and successful men — and they all seem to be married. Or gay. I guess, in a way, it’s like it seemed in my twenties…times ten. So, naturally, I’ve ventured online.

And the online game is largely one of filtering. Filtering out the jerks and misogynists for sure, but probably adding in a few too many random and irrelevant criteria, as well. Take, for instance, one of the fellows pursuing me now: I literally have to force myself to keep an open mind because I don’t like the suburb he lives in, the car he drives, his education or his career. Yet if I met a guy who was as nice and good-looking and seemingly emotionally mature in real life, I wouldn’t place quite as much importance on those things.

Online dating simply serves to exacerbate the filtering, the judgments and the show-me-what-you-got attitude. If I wasn’t conscious of approaching dating that way before (because, frankly, I don’t believe that I did), I sure as heck see an unlikeable dimension of myself emerging the more I meet people online. I haven’t made it easy on most of my dates!

But what I’m really getting at is that I can continually add criteria and easily dismiss dozens of men over the course of a year and then, BAM! the guy who’s short, not particularly handsome, doesn’t live in the city and is not even particularly available (given his custody situation) can simply circumvent all of my defenses — all the criteria and filtering and requirements — and get straight to my heart without even trying. Against my better judgment, I’ve developed feelings — for only the second time in a year (and the first was a miserably failed experiment, I can tell you!) — that cause me to open myself to possibility, to hope, to taking risks, to the willingness and, yea, likelihood of making a complete ass of myself.

Instead of that show-me-what-you-got attitude I find myself copping when I meet a man online, I’m evaluating what I have to offer this fellow, wanting to meet half way, seeing him as he is and caring for him anyway — regardless of where he lives or what he drives or what he looks like — and wondering if any of my gifts might appeal to him in the way that he appeals to me. I’ve been described as a strong woman, and I know I can be a hard woman, as well. But I melt in this man’s presence. And that’s a rare enough feeling for me to take notice.

The problem: despite his having kissed me recently, I have no idea how he feels toward me. Clearly attracted…

I’ve spent entire days agonizing about it — and, by that, I mean the glorious agony of desire or unrequited love — and I’ve come to a decision: if the opportunity arises, I will tell him how I feel. I’m not going to stress about it; I’m going to keep on being me. I’ll flirt and be fun and kind, but I’m not going to lower my standards or become some sort of contortionist in an effort to reel him in. Perhaps he has feelings for me and perhaps he doesn’t…no matter; there’ s nothing for me to do about it. Regardless, hearing his voice and being playful with him is the best part of my day.

So I will go on feeling completely, utterly defenseless. Honestly, I suspect practicing this genuine, open vulnerability will be good for me.

a declaration to the universe

Sometimes I need to remind myself why I’m putting it all out there — and this is one of those times:

I believe that truly loving and truly being loved is the greatest freedom we humans can achieve. (Contrast this with the attitudes portrayed by singles in the media, that marriage “ties us down” or we “give up our freedom..”) To come home to a place where someone is committed to loving, committed to partnership and where one is emotionally safe to express oneself fully seems healthier and even more natural to me than living singly, even if it is a lot of work. (Dr. Phil calls this “a soft place to land.”) The specific challenge is finding someone matched both in compatibility and desire to create that sort of relationship. “Met and matched,” as a relationship counselor might say.

Further, I believe that creating this safe, supporting home environment is what’s best for our children. So, even as I am trying to be the best parent I can be, it strikes me that the greatest single positive change I could make in parenting my children is to remarry a loving man, create a family and demonstrate an emotionally healthy, committed relationship.

I continue to work toward readiness for that kind of love and partnership — not because I believe I need to be perfect to find it — or even better than I am now, for that matter, but because I think trying to be our best, most loving, most devoted selves is what separates us from the beasts. Without this sort of seeking, what is the point or purpose of our lives?

So, even as I confess to being completely smitten with a fellow who planted his lips on mine a week hence, I continue to keep my focus on what’s important: finding the man who demonstrates that I am, and a relationship with me is, a priority. To be honest, I don’t automatically suspect this fellow will do that, but I remain hopeful and open to the possibility.

shocking new updates from the land of liking boys

My stomach is all aflutter after a rather scandalous happening a few days ago: The gentleman about whom I wrote in my last post, object of many a fantasy, planted his lips on mine and kissed me, therein setting off a series of delicious, physiological responses including the aforementioned sensation in my stomach, weak knees, racing heart and, most dangerous of all, careening thoughts. A brief moment of shock and wonder was followed quickly by euphoric reverie and then, only hours later, confusion.

Now, days later, my body seems to cycle rapidly through feelings of elation, befuddlement and horror. I have identified two primary root causes of this array of emotion:

I have proven myself colossally bad at choosing appropriate mates and I am already convinced that this will end horrifically…at least for me. Unless it doesn’t! I mean unless he truly is as sweet as he seems. Simply put, I am already terrified for the end of something that has yet to even begin.
By flirting suggestively with this fellow months ago, I’m afraid I’ve likely given the impression that I seek a mere lover. While my desires have changed dramatically, I cannot be certain I’ve informed this fellow of my changed set of requirements. Put another way, I’ve no idea his intent: does he mean to submit himself for the role of lover or boyfriend? Or neither? (Only serious applicants need apply.)

Having positively obsessed about this situation for a full two days, I’ve decided that the only practical approach is to be blithe and nonchalant, as I am while dating men I’ve met online. This proven approach, which requires I simply enjoy myself with complete detachment to the outcome, seems to work much better when I don’t know whether I like a fellow. (Worked like a charm on the man who became my last serious boyfriend!)

You see, while dating men one has met online, it’s quite easy to be biased against the likelihood of anything ever working out. What are the chances? So one sits through a coffee, a drink or a meal, all senses on the alert for warning signs of misogyny, prejudice, misguided political leanings or other wrong-headed beliefs, cheapness, poor taste and all manner of other sins, always at the ready to employ a sensible “slow to hire; quick to fire” policy.

This fellow, however, is someone I’ve gotten to know rather slowly. We have drifted in and out of flirtatious encounters and might already be dating were the logistics not so nearly impossible. After a happy hour a couple of weeks ago, I made a startling discovery: I feel a strong impulse to be sweet in his presence. This is revelatory because it is not at all how I’m feeling during most dates (see paragraph above) and because, while I am often kind, charming, gracious, considerate, helpful and even loving, I very rarely feel sweet. Something about his quiet strength makes me feel those lovely feminine qualities of softness, sweetness and yes, maligned term though it may be, submission. Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot state this strongly enough: I feel I might be able to submit to him, a sensation so foreign to me I don’t know what to do with it! Surely you can understand why I’m in such a tizzy.

But onto other loose ends, as well:

My former boyfriend and I talked the other day: I find myself both yearning for the love we shared and also wanting to sock him in the face, all in the course of a single conversation. He is infuriatingly self-righteous and smug about certain things I can only hint at here.

The fellow (and I refuse to say “gentleman”) who vowed to spend yesterday with me doing yard work did not follow through on said plans. There is something charming and in earnest about him, and I’ve always envisioned he and I would find ourselves fast friends, so I was rather disappointed. Still, it’s probably for the best, given all that’s a-swirl in my mind. Unfortunately, he seems intent on wanting something to come of whatever time we spend together, rather than simply enjoying getting to know one another.

Finally, I went out Friday night on a third date (second to some, perhaps) with a fellow I met online. As usual, I was half dreading the encounter and, thus, ended the evening on a high note, having had a far better time than anticipated. He is taller and better looking than the kisser, his sun sign is more likely to be compatible with mine and, in all likelihood (if you believe what they say about a man’s hands and feet), better hung. Of course, while he was holding my hand, I was daydreaming of the fellow who’d kissed me the day before.

$@#%&!!

And so life goes on in the land of liking boys…

the bold new fantasy

Several months ago, the type of fantasies I entertained were those that usually included a strong and (physically) passionate man who couldn’t wait to ravage me…up against a wall, on a kitchen island, etc. These fantasies were fast, rough and entirely physical and can easily be described with “Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma’am!”

Now, my mind wanders instead to visions of…(insert dramatic pause)… Being spooned! Cuddling in bed watching Friday Night Lights reruns! Slow dancing! Preparing dinner together after work! Waking up together!

In other words, I find I’m very desirous of the mundane, intimate behaviors that couples share. I lust for a closeness that goes beyond sex, beyond simply liking someone. I long to be back in that yummy relationship place in which closeness is a given and anything can be expressed and received with complete assurance of emotional safety.

Funny thing is, one of the guys I’m fantasizing about these days is someone about whom I fantasized in a much racier fashion two seasons ago. And I’m dying to learn whether he’s as versatile as my imagination makes him out to be…

not on my knees

Not long ago, I told one of the guys who’s meandered in and out of my life for the past many months that we needed to have a “come to Jesus.”

He asked hopefully — and via text, I might add, as so many of our important conversations take place these days — if that meant I’d be on my knees.

And that’s exactly the issue with this fellow; he cannot be taken seriously. He claims to have serious interest in me and then, when we eventually start putting together some plans, he texts me that he’ll be over around 11:30pm. That’s booty-call-thirty to most of us.

Men and women can have a few different types of relationships: they can be siblings, friends, co-workers / colleagues, casual lovers or two people with mutual love and respect who want to grow old together. I realize that some of these types of relationships — and by no means is this list comprehensive — can take place on a sort of continuum. Yet I suspect the type of relationship I’m looking for — long-term, committed and rewarding — is unlikely to begin with an 11:30pm visit to my place.

So our “come to Jesus” conversation was a series of texts over which I basically told him that, if he wants to be taken seriously, he’ll need to change his strategy. Ultimately, I’m no soothsayer; I can’t predict the future, so I might be open to a booty call…one just couldn’t possibly expect it would turn into anything deeper.

This fellow knows me well enough and for long enough so that, if he’d been taking notes, he’d have an entire list of possible restaurants to which to invite me on dates, activities I enjoy, music I’d like to see in concert, etc. to show me that he values me as a human being (and not just a piece of ass). He’s likely to know that I think the best relationships begin as friendship. Hell, he’d probably have the first five years’ worth of birthday and Christmas gifts covered if he’d been listening.

I mean to say I’ve made this easy. I’ve practically handed out written instructions for how to win my heart, in the event he was interested. That’s why it floors me that he wants to come over and “give me a back rub” late at night while proclaiming he views me as the “total package” — brains, beauty, breasts. The most important of those is wasted entirely at that time of day.

At any rate, this last go-round, he ultimately declined to come over after this “discussion,” so no booty call for me. Now he claims he’s going to come over and help me do yard work one day, which is much more likely to win me over…

I may have my fingers crossed this fellow can manage some follow-through, but I won’t be on my knees.

assessing the current situation

I mentioned that book about attachment awhile back, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what I’ve learned. Diving in:

Self-assessment: Avoidant at the macro level; anxious on the micro. Keep in mind that this is a comprehensive review of past relationships, and not completely reflective of where I am in this moment. Still, I can see that I have to be very careful about the messages I’m sending, because the minute some new guy is really into me, I have a tendency to turn around and run. If he’s glomming on so quickly, he must be desperate or needy or something (I guess I must be thinking).

Of course I’m completely attracted to avoidant men, because I find them exciting and duh! it doesn’t take a genius to connect that attachment avoidant types might take it upon themselves to start companies, travel a lot and have fascinating interests. They generally introduce me to new bands or music which, in retrospect, I can easily put into the category of “anthems of the attachment avoidant.” But I like music. I am a total sucker for this kind of shit.

So when I find a guy who interests me and show it, he wants to turn around and run. And then my anxious behaviors kick in which really scare him away.

Current state: All that said, I’ve matured and evened out a lot and I’m ready for genuine intimacy with the right partner. I don’t believe there’s only one possibility out there. I don’t expect someone to read my mind. I’m ready to work on it with a man who makes it worthwhile to work on it. I’m perfectly comfortable expressing to someone that I want and need to move slowly, that I want and need to develop a friendship first. It’s true that I have moments of wanting to turn around and run, and it’s also true that I’m a big enough girl to own my stuff and communicate through those times.

I seriously doubt that I will ever draw an attachment avoidant to me again, because I suspect he’ll immediately sense that my energy is not right for him. Either that, or I’ll be much more able to recognize quickly that he’s unwilling and unable to meet my emotional needs, so I’ll dismiss him much more quickly.

Meanwhile, I’m catching myself before I dismiss men for petty reasons and I’m opening myself to the possibility that someone who drives a car I don’t like or who lives in a suburb I don’t want to live in could still be a great guy. (Sure, he’ll have to buy a new car and move at some point — lol.)

Will I ever find the genuine intimacy I seek? I have to believe I will. It’s still going to take me a bit of work to open myself to a different set of possibilities about what will make me happy for the long-term, but I’m getting there.