Sunday, August 19, 2012

Another Sexy Date with an eX - Man Candy

Solving for the eX....

This might come as a total shock to most of my regular readers, but I DON’T sit around pondering String theory or the Pythagorean theorem.  However  I say with equal parts of humility and sarcasm that I’m pretty sure I’ve uncovered a universal truth, a formula that will no doubt put me in the same consideration as Einstein,  Socrates and Pythagorean, whoever he was.   To solve for X, it is important to break down the Y first.  X = eX of course and Y = WHY?  As in… “why the HELL did you dump my ass, you douche?”   

I’ve taken a lot of heat for going back out with my ex, “Man Candy” for a second time.  Probably because I frequently say that going out with an ex is a bad idea and one shouldn’t do it, unless you’re a total raving dumbass.   Also, the way we ended was abrupt and confusing and I get that.   I digress… but my point here is that my “rule” of not dating an ex, probably should have some EXceptions, based on maybe the why’s of the breakup.  X-Y = a “maybe” for seeing Man Candy again.
The first time around, we did everything “smart” and “right” leading up to having sex, didn’t rush into it and thought it was the right decision, when we finally did the nasty.  Well, ya that waiting thing didn’t work out so well for me now did it?   I remember picking up the pieces of my broken heart after all that, of course I haven’t forgotten.   A lot happened after we broke up and my life became exponentially more stressful and dating was about the last thing on my mind, for a long time.

To be totally upfront with you, I feel partially like being out on a date with him now is my way of easing back into dating…. Whether that’s right or wrong, I just feel like he’s my training wheels or something.  I’m still trying to find my balance and not sure that meeting someone totally new is a good idea right now. 

I’m also struggling with trying to discern if I’m being objective about my going back to an ex and thinking about it from a lot of different angles.  I recently got irritated with a man I was talking to when he went back to his ex, after using me to get through the emotional heavy lifting of the first few weeks of their breakup.  She cheated on him with his best friend and she had thrown a brick through a window of his truck.   Ok, so that “Y” is because she was bat shit crazy, don’t get back together.  Duh.

So here’s what’s different with my situation with “Man Candy”, since we broke up he had a dose of reality, not meeting anyone that he remotely liked and had doubts about why he let me go.  He also had a monumental life changing event that I’ll tell you more about in a second… but suffice it to say that he’s rethinking a lot.   I know, I know… I feel your cynicism and I agree, I have it too.   Yet, I’m being different and smarter, holding back a lot myself and truly dating him to have fun.  Crazy thought, huh?  Yeah.   I’m at a different place than I have been, maybe ever.   I mean don’t get me wrong if things go well, I’m open to that, just not losing any sleep about it. 

Speaking of sleep, It was a coincidence, but I texted him on a day last week that one of his close friends was killed in a car accident – I happened to get his text with this news while I was sound asleep.    I could tell he was upset from the tone and my sleepy brain woke up to answer his text with concern and I invited him to call me even though it was very late.   He hasn’t called me for a long time and I was shocked when a few minutes later he did.   He went on and on about the car accident, the details and how it made big news and the driver that killed him was being irresponsible, essentially he rambled and I listened.  He was angry and understandably so. 

He talked about his friend’s son left behind and the wife, memories of them in college and playing ball through the years.   His voice cracked and so did mine as I tried to find words to console him, keeping my voice down to not wake up my boys down the hall.   We talked until after 1:00 and when we signed off he seemed genuinely grateful that I was there to talk to him. 

Over the next few days, we traded texts and I could tell how hard he was taking it.  He didn’t want to talk, he was fighting the darkness, hard.   It broke my heart, honestly and yet I knew he wanted and probably needed space.   The funeral was almost a week later, and that had to just make it feel like it was an eternity, ugh.    I let it go and stopped making the first move to reach out to him.   He knew I cared but I didn’t want to smother him either, it was a fine line.    I’m also walking this fine line with him to not put me dead in the friend zone either.    

Simultaneously, my emotions were going through a bit of a rollercoaster.   I’m dealing with some teenage rebellion issues from my oldest son and also fighting some of my own dormant grief from my mom’s death.  In a nutshell, I’ve been emotional lately and going through this alongside Man Candy reminded me how short life is and how I vowed to make sure I never forgot that, though I honestly have.

I was inspired by all this emotion to actually have feelings, and actually do something about having them… haha.   So, I did something that wasn’t a huge risk but enough of one for me… I wrote on my personal Facebook page (he is one of my friends on it) something about how life is short and not to take people for granted.   He’s rarely on Facebook and I didn’t do it exactly to inception his brain, I just kind of put it out there, so to speak.

The following day, he sent me a text inviting me out for a drink after work.   I had to juggle some things around, but was pretty sure I could make it.   Luckily I had makeup with me at work and something cute, but not slutty to wear.   I primped and was excited to see him, but again not sure if this was consoling a friend or a date.   Either way, I hunkered down prepared for either scenario.

We set up a meeting nearby on the river, it was a gorgeous night.  I was in a great mood singing along with the radio but planning what to say.  The song on the radio was some mindless pop song, the chorus was “I want you back… I want you back, wa wa want you back…”   When I realized what I was singing I switched the song quickly and made a sarcastic face, convincing myself for a second (or less) that I didn’t want him back…  

When I arrived, he greeted me warmly, smiled and hugged me very close and long.   I followed him to a table overlooking the river.   We ordered drinks and snacks and the conversation flowed easily.   I started first, updating him about some pretty big news going on in my life,  and he was really excited for me.  He was supportive and listened intently.    We laughed, talked easily and the drinks were kicking in.    He started opening up about his friend,  his voice cracked as he spoke, and he looked directly at me as he explained what happened.  I listened as he shared memories of his friend and how this was the hardest loss he’s experienced, mostly because of the shock.   I shared how my mom died suddenly and how that was hard and I could somewhat understand his loss.  

We talked for hours, literally about everything.    It felt good talking to him and I know although he is a communicative man, that he doesn’t have a lot of people he can freely express himself to like this.   His icy grey eyes were locked on me as I kept my attention on him and well I’m not gonna lie, I did notice the way his muscles looked under his shirt.   He teased me about my leopard print shirt and it was obvious that he was looking at the way my chest filled out the tightly fitting shirt. 

The waiter came to freshen our drinks and I ran to the ladies room for a minute, as this was a natural break to step away.   I freshened up my lipgloss and chewed a breath mint as I walked back to our table.   

I teasingly pinched his arm for teasing me about my shirt a few minutes ago.   He smiled and his arms quickly swept around my waist as he drew me tightly to him in a long passionate kiss, perhaps inappropriate kiss.   We were oblivious to those around us and it felt like his kisses were melting me, our bodies were against each other tightly and it was probably too intense for the setting.  We took a short break to continue the pinching and teasing, but started kissing again in the middle of a sentence.    Obviously what we had to say wasn’t more important than kissing.

He paid for the drinks and we left, to see an overlook of the river and the beautiful night’s sky.  The stars were shining and several boats were out on the river, and the city in the background was beautifully lighting up the sky.    We kissed a few times, stronger and harder than before at  the table, my hands found his front jeans pockets and pulled his body against mine as his mouth engulfed mine.   As I kissed him, I bit his lower lip and he groaned in pleasure and pulled me tighter against him. 

He must have caught himself and realized that we should walk towards our cars.    When we found my car, he immediately started kissing me and pushed me forcefully against my car.  He stopped and looked at me, glared at me even as he ran his hands through my hair, pulling it all to one side as he yanked it hard and then planted another forceful kiss on my expectant mouth.  His body pressed hard against me as I felt his passion for me growing. 

The voices of another couple walking by us made him pull back and stop kissing me.  I shot him a disapproving glare as I yanked him tightly against me again by his pockets.     I then kissed him hard, pulling his chest against mine and biting his lip again.   His hands swept around my ass, pulling me against him, he made sure I felt the force of him, grinding slightly against me.  I moaned slightly, uncontrollably as my memory recalled how he felt inside me.  My body wanted to continue with that memory, but my brain was fighting it.   As we kissed, I tasted blood and made a little joke about it between more kisses and nibbles.   

We said our goodnights, and I headed home with a smile on my face but my brain still intact in my head.   Thank you for reading!
The Single Mom

Thursday, August 9, 2012

What we’ve learned from Fifty Shades of Grey

In just a few words:  women are horny.  Please allow me to expand on my hypothesis…

I don’t remember the first time this book popped into my consciousness, but it seemed to be like a typhoon in my conservative, upper income, suburb.   My neighborhood friends were all hot and bothered by it, lighting up Facebook, posting statuses that rivaled the passion of someone sportin a new SUV on the cul de sac.    It reminded me of when my junior high passed around a copy of The Amityville Horror and the hysteria that book inspired in my junior high.   Yet this was a different hysteria and I can’t help but to put my own sarcastic and irreverent spin on the horny housewife humpfest summer of 2012…

This book opened up a sexual Pandora’s Box that has touched many a nerve… well and maybe a few specific nerves… wink wink.   I’ve been invited to women’s sex toy parties inspired by this book and Magic Mike parties.     My married friends were disappointed that I didn’t join them to see this oiled up six pack and man meat gyrations on the big screen.  

I admit it sounds kinda good, but having a night out to indulge in a fantasy isn’t as necessary for me as it is to them, I haven’t been waking up to the same dude for 20 plus years like they have.   To restate this in my totally mature writing voice: “nanananabooboo”.

If this Shades of Grey craziness has taught me anything, it’s that a lot of middle age women have a sexual craving that isn’t being fulfilled or even expressed.   How sad is that?    It’s easy to talk about going to see a hot, greased up, sexy dude in a G-string shake his man meat, but it’s far more difficult to talk about the deeper longing some women apparently have.    

The role I play for my married friends is the guinea pig.    Their curiosity was peaked after reading 50 Shades and they asked me if the s&m sexual relationship like the one portrayed in the book was “normal” out there in dating land.   A few of them were so aroused by the dominance in the book that they wanted to experiment with it in their own bedrooms.    Maybe make it their own in a freaky, married, missionary style wackiness, but still. 

It hit me in a profound way once I thought about it from a totally different perspective.   Men are portrayed as sexual beasts and it’s accepted as a reality in our culture to some extent an expectation that men are driven by sexual urges – encouraged even.   Yet, when a woman has the same urges and God forbid acts upon them, our society is quick to throw a label all over her.   Think about what words we have to describe a sexually active man, I can’t think of one.  Yet compare that to what we call the same woman: slut, whore, loose, etc…  

We’ve come a long way since being a little hard on the Beaver last night and cooking dinner wearing a string of pearls, but how do we go further?   Obviously, talking about it is a huge step.   Next, how do we remove the stigma that a sexual woman isn’t something hideous?   I’d like to throw a challenge out there to anyone reading this that you pause and think about it next time you instinctively label a woman for being sexual.  

Here’s my 2 pennies:  for me being sexual works better when there are some boundaries, not platinum and diamond ones, but some.   For starters I need, respect, attraction, understanding or in a pinch tequila.   It just works better I’m not going to have to not make eye contact with someone or I’m worried that I’ll never hear from the dude again.  Wishful thinking?  Yes of course, but I’m going to always go for what I want.

I encourage you to push out your comfort zone a little, think about expanding your bedroom routine.   I can tell you that since being single and being at the smorgasbord, I’ve liked a few things put on my plate… wink, wink.   
Thank you for reading and have a little fun out there.

The Single Mom