There will be a 63rd first date. OKC reactivated. Details to come.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Whoops!
Guess who found my blog.
As it turns out, when you're dating someone who has a basic knowledge of how the internet works and you tell him that you blog about dating in Seattle, he figures out a way to track it down. And then- as though to make up for all of male humanity- he reassures you that anal sex is not one of his marriage deal-breakers. I'm so glad that needed to be cleared up in the first month.
So here I am, monogamously dating the same man for about six weeks, who now has this website address. What to say, what to say...
As it turns out, when you're dating someone who has a basic knowledge of how the internet works and you tell him that you blog about dating in Seattle, he figures out a way to track it down. And then- as though to make up for all of male humanity- he reassures you that anal sex is not one of his marriage deal-breakers. I'm so glad that needed to be cleared up in the first month.
So here I am, monogamously dating the same man for about six weeks, who now has this website address. What to say, what to say...
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
"Youth, and I Really Love Her Kid"
Whammy #2:
The Ex is engaged. My third love and final heartbreak has committed to spend his life with the woman he preferred to be with because she was younger than me and had a child of his ethnic background. The memory of him comparing me to her and explaining what she had over me, "youth, and I really love her kid," recurs every time I feel proud of an accomplishment. Am I less likely to find love because of the successes I've earned? I'd like to say I moved on, but it's three years later and here I am, occasionally stalking his Facebook profile.
My reaction was completely different from a few days before, when I found out Julio was engaged. I didn't cry, wasn't angry, had no moments of bittersweet tenderness, and didn't even care that much. I saw his recent engagement photos and my first thought was that I didn't find him attractive. My second thought was that his small head and giant, toothy grin make him look stupid. My third thought was that I never want engagement photos. Waste of money!
Three years, still holding at 62 first dates.
The Ex is engaged. My third love and final heartbreak has committed to spend his life with the woman he preferred to be with because she was younger than me and had a child of his ethnic background. The memory of him comparing me to her and explaining what she had over me, "youth, and I really love her kid," recurs every time I feel proud of an accomplishment. Am I less likely to find love because of the successes I've earned? I'd like to say I moved on, but it's three years later and here I am, occasionally stalking his Facebook profile.
My reaction was completely different from a few days before, when I found out Julio was engaged. I didn't cry, wasn't angry, had no moments of bittersweet tenderness, and didn't even care that much. I saw his recent engagement photos and my first thought was that I didn't find him attractive. My second thought was that his small head and giant, toothy grin make him look stupid. My third thought was that I never want engagement photos. Waste of money!
Three years, still holding at 62 first dates.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Double Whammy
Whammy #1:
Julio- whose name I am comfortable disclosing because the odds of anyone reading this blog identifying him in Guatemala are slim- sent me an email saying he is getting married and expecting a child.
The first person you fall in love with helps you identify those feelings and sets the standard for future relationships. The second person is special because they remind you that it can happen again.
I will always be grateful to Julio for being the second, for getting me out of a relationship with a man I wasn't in love with by helping me rediscover what it meant to connect to someone. He taught me Spanish, a language that I speak every day at work. He ignited my love for reggaeton music, clubbing, and drinking tequila. We climbed to the top of Central America together and watched the sun rise at 13,845 feet. It was a happy relationship that ended with the biggest dealbreaker I have ever encountered:
I wanted to go back to the United States and work in medicine, and he wanted to stay in Guatemala and become a Catholic priest. In the tragic endings of my romantic relationships, it figured that I fell in love with the one Guatemalan who would turn down my offer to try for a US visa.
Obviously his goals from four years ago changed, and in the process, he met his fiancé who is Mayan, Catholic, and a much better life partner to him than I ever would have been. I cried when he told me, not because I was sad or angry, but because his happiness overwhelmed me. I want good things for him.
Yesterday, he sent me a message wishing me a Happy International Women's Day. The United States doesn't observe the holiday, but Guatemala does, and he wants good things for me as well.
Julio- whose name I am comfortable disclosing because the odds of anyone reading this blog identifying him in Guatemala are slim- sent me an email saying he is getting married and expecting a child.
The first person you fall in love with helps you identify those feelings and sets the standard for future relationships. The second person is special because they remind you that it can happen again.
I will always be grateful to Julio for being the second, for getting me out of a relationship with a man I wasn't in love with by helping me rediscover what it meant to connect to someone. He taught me Spanish, a language that I speak every day at work. He ignited my love for reggaeton music, clubbing, and drinking tequila. We climbed to the top of Central America together and watched the sun rise at 13,845 feet. It was a happy relationship that ended with the biggest dealbreaker I have ever encountered:
I wanted to go back to the United States and work in medicine, and he wanted to stay in Guatemala and become a Catholic priest. In the tragic endings of my romantic relationships, it figured that I fell in love with the one Guatemalan who would turn down my offer to try for a US visa.
Obviously his goals from four years ago changed, and in the process, he met his fiancé who is Mayan, Catholic, and a much better life partner to him than I ever would have been. I cried when he told me, not because I was sad or angry, but because his happiness overwhelmed me. I want good things for him.
Yesterday, he sent me a message wishing me a Happy International Women's Day. The United States doesn't observe the holiday, but Guatemala does, and he wants good things for me as well.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Blast from the Past
I am currently trying to figure out if I can have a functional relationship with the man I've been dating for the last few weeks. It's rather unexciting.
SOOO, for the sake of keeping this blog alive while I sort out my thoughts about dating my fairly normal neighbor, let's go back to a blog post I took down a year ago, about the man I was dating who was, suffice it to say, significantly odder...
******************************************************************************************************************
The kink cards came out on the third date. We were making out for the first time on his couch and things were heating up. Shirts were off, pants were on, my ear was gently being nibbled when he started making a list: "I could cum in your pussy, in your mouth, on your face... I could cum in your ass."
SOOO, for the sake of keeping this blog alive while I sort out my thoughts about dating my fairly normal neighbor, let's go back to a blog post I took down a year ago, about the man I was dating who was, suffice it to say, significantly odder...
******************************************************************************************************************
The kink cards came out on the third date. We were making out for the first time on his couch and things were heating up. Shirts were off, pants were on, my ear was gently being nibbled when he started making a list: "I could cum in your pussy, in your mouth, on your face... I could cum in your ass."
EEEEEEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The kissing came to a screeching halt as I sought to clarify expectations. "You are NOT cumming in my ass." He didn't skip a beat. "Well, would you let me put a finger in your ass and cum on your tits?"
I agreed to that in the future if we got to know each other better. It sounded like the lesser of two evils. Then he laid me back down on his couch, kneeled over me, masturbated, and ejaculated all over my breasts. My ass was spared, and the third date ended.
The fourth date was a pleasant dinner with clothes on and PG-rated conversation. Aside from some manual below-the-belt stimulation, it was sexually uneventful. I was headed to Ohio for the weekend so we said we'd see each other the next week. I was planning on letting it rest for a few days but then I went to a wedding, drank four beers, and reached for my cell phone.
Me: I'm about to get real drunk and take full responsibility for any text messages I send.
Him: Bring it! Pictures are nice too.
Me: Can't you just fly to Ohio?
Him: No. But I can text you and tell you how much I liked your mouth on my cock.
The sexting was on full-force and several messages later, I found myself in a bathroom stall pulling down my dress to send a picture of my breasts to a man who I've been on four dates with.
Him: Keep getting me excited! What do you want to do to me? You know what I want to do to you.
I told him exactly what I wanted which was, to paraphrase, regular old in-and-out vaginal sex that most heterosexual couples are having by the 3rd to 6th date. He said he could do that, but I would have to beg... "Get you naked, hold my cock just up to your pussy... Wait... Wait... Not yet..."
I was at a wedding, and I looked around and saw love everywhere. The bride and groom, their families, my friends scattered across the country who traveled to rural Ohio in winter to reunite and celebrate love and commitment for a night. The entire room was dancing to polka music and drinking Bud Light. I was drunk and sappy, so I gave in to the thought on every single thirty year old woman's mind and texted, "I just want to get married. Why is this so hard?"
He didn't hesitate in his response: "For that, you will definitely need to give up your ass."
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