Failure

So, I failed. Terribly.

When I said I wasn't going to date for a year, I really meant it. I was all set to do it.

And then I met R. We had been talking online before my decision not to date, and I told him when I made it. We got along well, though, so we decided we still wanted to hang out as friends.

We went to a bar to watch a football game. At some point, I started holding his hand. Eventually, he kissed me. I knew at that moment I had failed.

We've been dating over a month now, and still going strong. He makes me happier than I've been in a long time, and I can see in his eyes that I do the same.

I've never had good luck with blogging during a relationship, so this will be the end of the Date Slut. Wish me luck! :)

The Date Slut Goes Date-less

So begins the grand experiment (tm). Just like the last time I neglected this blog, I got too busy with school and work and (ironically) dating. Unlike last time, I'm returning not to promise to be better about blogging my dates, but to tell you why there won't be any dates this year.

That's right, I'm taking the year off. The plan is for it to be the entire year, though there are apparently some betting pools among my friends of how long I will really last. (That's right, I know about you guys!) No relationships, no dating, and only a few hot-and-dirty rendezvous allowed.

Why am I doing this? Long story short, “The Date Slut” was a really accurate name. I would go on dates with just about anybody. Even when I wasn't in a relationship, I was always dating at least one (usually two, or three, or seven) people. But you knew all about this. I can't even remember the last time I was “truly” single- i.e. not dating anyone at all.

But it's no fun to make a long story short. So here's the more extended version.

I still remember my first date. His name was B.J. (No, really. That's not one of my made-up nicknames.) I was in the 7th grade, and my church youth group took a trip to the gigantic mall the next city over. B.J. and I had just had our first kiss (and my first kiss ever) on the playground the week before. He was an 8th grader, and I thought he was Totally Dreamy. Maybe he reminded me of Hansen, I don't know. So that weekend, off we went to the mall.

For some reason, the youth director chaperoning us allowed us all to go off on our own, with orders to meet back periodically to check in. B.J. and I hung around with my bff for a while, doing such awesome things as shopping at the Disney Store, and having “Date Slut & B.J. 4-Ever” written on a grain of rice necklace. Then he decided we should go to a movie.

We didn't have time to actually watch a whole movie, but of course that wasn't the point. The next one to start was The Talented Mr. Ripley. To this day, I still haven't actually *seen* it. As soon as the previews were over (because, he told me, “I love the previews!”) he started shoving his tongue down my throat and I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. Then we realized we were going to be late and had to run out. Ah, young love.

The next week, he brought me a red rose with a ton of baby's breath to school. Maybe it was Valentine's Day? Regardless, I just “knew” that I was going to be with him forever. Until he decided to dump me shortly after for some blonde chick. I remember wanting to be angsty about it for a long time, but barely being able to keep my sad-face on long enough for my friends to ask me what was wrong.

So my dating life had a less-than-auspicious start. And it's never really stopped. There were a slew of middle-school boyfriends (including two proposals). High school went by in a flash of “who am I dating this week? Oh yeah.” And college (after a brief bout of an unsuccessful marriage) was even more of the same.

I am an independent woman. I've accomplished everything I've set out to do so far, and much of it on my own. Yet there is something that has compelled me to always have someone on my arm, and usually a couple more people waiting in the wings. The point of my dating hiatus isn't soul-searching, believe me, but maybe I'll find out some new things about myself on the way. Even if I don't, dating is so time-consuming! It always manages to derail my best-laid plans, both in the short term (“Well, I usually go to yoga on Monday nights, but if it's the only time you're free...”) and the long term (“Maybe I won't go to that grad school, and I'll stay here with you instead!”) Thankfully no permanent damage has been done to them yet, but I'm looking forward to getting back on track with me.

There is one big obstacle I forsee, though. And no, it's not sex! You'll note that I'm giving up DATING and RELATIONSHIPS. If I tried to give up sex, I'd definitely fail. I'm not going to have random hook-ups, either. I have a couple good guys (some of whom have already been mentioned on this blog) that have graciously agreed to allow me to booty-call them as needed. So self-sacrificing, right?

No, the problem is boredom. One of the biggest perks to me about dating people is having someone to do things with. I love getting out of the house and going on adventures, and dating, especially at the beginning of dating a new person, is perfect for that. Trying new restaurants and activities, having someone to go to the movies with- this is what I'm afraid I'm going to miss. So this year is also going to be an adventure in doing things alone.

I can already promise you now that I won't be updating this blog daily, or even weekly. I am going to try to stick to a monthly schedule, though, both for you guys and for myself. At the end of the year, I am going to reflect on my successes and failures. And we'll see where life takes me without someone on my arm holding me back!

Pie + Bacon = LUV

Several weeks ago, I began chatting online with Spice. He's a 28 year old computer nerd and general geek- right up my alley! But Spice is different in a couple very important ways. For starters, he's also poly. He lives with his girlfriend, whose other significant other is often over. That's right- there are three levels of OSOs. Spice, his girlfriend, her other boyfriend, and that boyfriend's wife. My roommate calls it “the family tree,” which is as good a description as I've ever heard. The limbs branch out and intersect, without necessarily coming back in on each other.

So like I said, Spice lives with his girlfriend. They were once primary partners, meaning they were deeply involved with one another. Now, it seems that they are no less deeply committed, but the nature of their relationship has changed. You see, Spice got really sick several years ago. He eventually received a kidney transplant and got better, but there were some scary times which led to some realizations about both him and his girlfriend. In the end, they decided to still be together, but not in the same way. This means that Spice is in the unique position of already being in a dedicated poly relationship while still looking for a primary partner.

I knew all of this going into our date Friday night. Now, I've done a lot of long-distance online dating, and the first few weeks reminded me of that. Online relationships often lead to quick connections, since you can spend time talking deeply, but the danger is that you only know what they put forward online. Since I was enjoying talking to Spice so much, I was nervous that he wasn't going to live up to it in person. The only way to find out was to go out.

We met for sushi. If you're anything like me, eating sushi is rife with opportunities for low-level humor, of the “that's what she said” persuasion. Yes, I still enjoy “that's what she said” jokes. I'm not too proud to admit it! Even better, Spice does too. We spent the entire dinner talking and laughing and giggling at jokes. It was like we already knew each other; there was none of that first date awkwardness.

Halfway through dinner, he realized that we'd gone somewhere that didn't really have dessert. I'd prepared for that, though, and suggested we walk over to the nearby Trader Joe's and pick up a pie. I have to give credit for that idea to my awesome roommate. Her suggestion was that we eat it on the street somewhere, which sounds wonderfully romantic, but when we bought the pie I realized we didn't have anything to eat it with. So I invited him back to my house.

(A side-note: while at Trader Joe's, Spice needed to pick up a couple things. He explained that there isn't one convenient to him, so it made total sense. He grabbed coffee and buttermilk, but the awesome part was the bacon. He grabbed two packs of the applewood-smoked bacon. Then two more. Then two more. I was nearly rolling in the aisle! Don't worry, he saw the humor in it too.)

After eating the pie we sat together on the living room couch, with me curled up into him. No surprise, it shortly led to making out; it was glorious. I couldn't get enough of his lips. As I remarked to him at one point, it's a sad thing that after two people start sleeping together, they often stop just making out. It should be more than just a means to an end- it's worth enjoying just for what it is.

We did eventually head up to my bed, but nothing happened beyond more making out and a bit of foreplay. Is it still foreplay when it doesn't lead to more? He texted his girlfriend to let her know he was staying over, and we cuddled up to fall asleep.

Until about 4am. That time, it definitely was foreplay. We had to fumble around in the dark for a condom, but eventually everything was in place. Things were a little bumbling, as first times often are, but he was clearly concerned with making sure I was enjoying myself. I most definitely was.

I “enjoyed myself” again in the morning. This time, being able to see what we were doing and not half-asleep, it was even better. His hands were tender yet demanding as he held me; his skin was smooth yet firm to my lips.

We finally dragged ourselves down to breakfast. I was out of almost everything (I'm a master at putting off going to the grocery store), so we had pie and bacon. I loved it.

Spice and I have continued to talk online every day since then. I have to say, whereas I felt smothered by Isaiah, I anxiously await each conversation with Spice. We're going out again this week, so you can expect to see his name again.

Ending the Imbalance the Only Way Possible

I'd been thinking a lot since my last date with Isaiah. It was painfully clear that he liked me way more than I liked him, and that he was looking for something more serious than I can offer right now. I mean, I just got out of a serious relationship less than a month ago! I don't think it's unfair to want some fun right now without commitment.

Like I've said before, Isaiah is very nice. I believe he really tried his best to give me space and not rush things, but that wasn't possible for him. He kept saying “I'm committed to giving you everything you need, including time and space.” All I could hear was “I'm already committed to you.”

So Tuesday night, I called to have “a talk.” I explained that I could tell we were in two different places. I also told him that it was clear we were looking for different things, and although I think he's wonderful and really do like him, I'm not anywhere close to being ready for a relationship.

He got very quiet.

When he finally talked again, there was obvious pain in his voice. He wanted to find a way to make it work (again that line about being committed to giving me time and space.) I explained, though, that it wasn't enough for me. So it was decided that we were done, though he asked that I call him if I ever change my mind.

I've had to have these types of conversations before, and they're never easy. I don't know if it's something about the kind of guys I choose or the kinds of relationships I get into, but that power imbalance between one person who is head-over-heels while the other is still only mildly enthused is never a good place to be.

It Was Nice in the Beginning...

Sunday night, I met the Triathlete for dessert. I'd suggested brunch, but he was off running, swimming, and biking that morning. I've known of the Triathlete for a while as we have several mutual friends, but it wasn't until I recognized him on OKCupid that I got the chance to actually “talk” to him.

He picked me up at my house, right on time, and we headed down the street to an awesome bar/restaurant that serves all locally-sourced foods. He couldn't resist the allure of the salted caramel cupcake with bacon, and I had a delicious peach crumble. If only it had been a la mode.

I had a lot of fun talking to him, and I thought we had a nice balance going of talking and listening. I hate those dates where it feels like one person is doing all the talking. Especially when I'm that person. I hate feeling like I'm on a job interview and I have to give the “right” answers. But it wasn't like that with the Triathlete. I think it helped that we already knew a little bit about each other. Or maybe more accurately, I knew a little bit about him, including his accordion playing and museum work. (I'm starting to wonder if I have a “thing” for accordion players.)

As I write this, though, I'm starting to wonder- how much did he actually ask about me and my interests? We talked about my thesis, and we talked about our political views (I know, never something that should come up on a first date, but we were both in agreement so it wasn't horribly uncomfortable,) but I can't remember talking about “me.” Hm.

We sat at the table for about three hours, sharing a couple beers, and then we decided it was time to head out. We got the check, and I asked my usual question- “do you want to split?” He said sure. I was honestly taken a little aback. It's not that it was a trick question at all- I was totally willing to pay my half- but he'd had twice as many drinks as me, and he let me pay for half the bill. Maybe he didn't realize it? I don't know.

So we walked back to the car and he drove me home. As we arrived at my house, he parked, but kept his seatbelt on. In the words of a teenage girl, he was like, “okay...” and I was like, “okay...” and then he was like “okay...” some more. Finally, I asked for a hug, and he unbuckled his seatbelt and gave me one. There was no attempt for a kiss.

Obviously, this entire exchange left me confused. The date had seemed to have gone well, but the end was just so...strange. I immediately got online to some of my guy friends to get their take on it. There was no consensus- comments ranged from “maybe he's just awkward” to “maybe he doesn't kiss on the first date” to “maybe he wasn't feeling it.” Since I wasn't sure which one of those it was, I decided to go out on a limb and message him again the next morning on the dating site. My message was brief, just a “I had fun, let's do it again?” type of thing.

Then I waited.

Finally, several hours later, I got a response back. It said (very nicely) that he'd sincerely had fun talking, but he wasn't up for another date. The kicker was his closer- “I'm sure I'll see you around.”

So, in case anyone was wondering, I do occasionally strike out.

Twice in One Week

While I was sitting in the Houston airport during my layover on my way home from Seattle, Isaiah called. He asked if I was free Wednesday night for dinner, which I was. He offered to cook, and I have an awesome kitchen at my house, so we decided he would come over and cook here. Or at least, that was the plan- until Wednesday morning, when I noticed my roommate was still home at a time when she would normally be at work. I asked why, and she told me she had pneumonia.

Now, I've never had pneumonia myself, but I can't imagine that it's pleasant. Furthermore, I can't imagine that I'd want to have some random guy my roommate just started dating traipsing around my house while I'm sick with pneumonia. So I called Isaiah and put the kibosh on our dinner plans.

When I told him, he suggested that I come to lunch with him and two of his friends that day instead. I did, and it was really fun- his friends were both really nice and the sushi was great. Afterwards, he invited me back to another friend's house where he is staying for a few days to do a project for her. He offered a shoulder rub, which turned into making out, which turned into screwing in the kitchen. Sorry, Isaiah's friend- I promise we cleaned up everything we touched.

That was Wednesday night. Friday, I had invited Isaiah to join me for a performance of a friend's band. The performance was at 7, but he wanted to get together at 1 and “hang out.” I managed to push that back to “sometime in the afternoon.” So when I was out with two of my friends on Friday afternoon, they suggested he come meet us. He did, things were nice, etc., but I couldn't help but wonder when we'd finally get a date that didn't involve friends.

He came back to my house afterward to kill some time before the show. I'm sure you can figure out what that entailed. Before I realized it, it was 6:45 and I was nowhere near ready to get out of bed and be seen in public. So I missed the show.

And it was probably worth missing the show for. He's very enthusiastic in bed, and definitely has longevity. But that doesn't quite translate into mind-blowing sex. Don't get me wrong- he's good. Just not top-ten.

As we were laying in bed talking, he mentioned wanting to call me his girlfriend. That freaked me out a LOT. I just got out of a relationship two weeks ago! I'm definitely not in a hurry to get back in another one. Plus I don't know if I like him that much yet. He's a very nice guy, and I do have a fun time with him, but there is just something about it that I'm not feeling. I don't know if that's because I just ended things with the Diplomat, or if it's something about Isaiah, but I'm not going to make any big moves right now.

I'm most worried that he wants to hang out daily, while I'm still in the “twice a week may be too often” phase. I need a lot of space even while in a relationship, but especially in the beginning stages of one. When I'm most infatuated with a guy, it'll come out in me wanting to talk to him daily. But there's no way I want to see the same person every day. That was even an issue while the Diplomat and I were spending just about every other night together- I felt like I didn't have enough alone time. Am I unusual in this? What's your sweet spot in how often you see someone you're dating?

In the Immortal Words of Ms. Joplin- Get it While You Can

This weekend, two of my friends got married in Seattle! As a former wedding coordinator (one of my many previous incarnations,) they asked me to lend a hand to make sure everything went well for their day. It was very much a friends and family affair- seven of us took a trip to the farmer's market in the morning to pick up flowers, the bride's aunt tied the bouquets, and the officiant was one of the bride and groom's closest friends in Seattle who was ordained on the internet.

And that officiant. Oh my. The groom had told me ahead of time that the officiant, Antimony* was available, but he hadn't warned me that he was gloriously tall, cute in that needs-a-haircut kind of way, and amazingly sweet. I noticed at the wedding rehearsal and the rehearsal brunch that Antimony was showing me a bit of attention. My suspicions were confirmed (in a good way) when he walked me partway back to my hotel afterward.

It was the next day at the wedding, though, that the we really connected. As the officiant and the official reception emcee, Antimony and I were in constant contact. Even when we weren't doing work-type things, we were hanging out- including sharing bites of the ice cream that the bride and groom had brought in instead of cake (brilliant idea, by the way!) Still, that was as far as it went- some smiles, a bit of touching on the arm, and once I'm pretty sure I laid my head on his shoulder. He wasn't making any moves and I wasn't really willing to put it all out there during our friends' wedding, so things kind of stalled. Then he mentioned that he was flying to Michigan on the red-eye that night, and I figured that was the end of things. I'll admit, I was more than a little disappointed.

When everything was packed up afterwards, I noticed Antimony hanging around even though it was just me and the parents left putting things into cars. I decided it was my last chance, regardless of him flying out that night, and that there was no harm in rejection, so I asked if he would walk me back to my hotel again. He did. When we got there, I asked if he would come up and see my fancy hotel room. He did that too.

As we were looking out the window at the awesome view (I told you it was a fancy hotel room) I laid my head on his shoulder again, and he put his arm around me. As I looked up to smile at him, he leaned down and kissed me. It couldn't have been better if I planned it. He was a very passionate kisser, with his hands on my waist and in my hair and a delicious electricity between us. When we finally broke the kiss, I took a step back and offered him something to drink. He replied, “I'd rather have another kiss.” Believe me, he didn't need to ask twice.

The next thing I knew, we were sideways on the bed, his arms around me and my legs around him. Even with our clothes on, we rotated through several positions while making out- me on top, him on top, my legs over his shoulders, both of us sitting up- and with each change in position, another piece of clothing came off.

We were down to our underwear as I straddled him. That is, until I began kissing my way down his chest and stomach, until I finally got to his boxers. I wanted to see what I'd been feeling, and I was not disappointed. Neither was he, as I kept kissing my way down a little further.

Eventually he pulled me back up to him so I was straddling him again, this time pulling off my panties in the process. With a few strokes, I was in heaven. It was like Antimony was shaped especially for me- he hit all the right places. We're not just talking good sex- we're talking AMAZING sex. Had I known in advance how my body was going to react I would have put a towel down, as the sheets quickly became a sopping wet mess. Afterwards, we lay there close together, my head on his shoulder, talking and laughing and marveling in what we'd both just experienced.

And that was just round one. Before I knew it we were kissing again, and I could feel him pressing into me. I climbed back on. This time, he got tired before finishing again (not that I blame him in the least- he was doing most of the work) so we collapsed back down onto the bed. “I hope you know we're not finished,” he told me. And we weren't. The final round was my favorite. It was a bit slower than the first two, but no less passionate. We held each other close as he moved inside of me until we'd both reached our ends.

For the last time, we lay with his arms around me and my head nestled in his shoulder, caressing each other and watching the sky slowly get dark outside the window. We both had to fight the urge to fall asleep and make him miss his flight to Michigan. Finally, as the street lights came on, we got dressed and I showed him out.

Long live weddings, and the amazing friends who have them.

(*A note on the nickname: Seattle Barista = SB = Sb = Antimony! Yay Periodic Table of Elements!)

Jumping Back In

Even as things were getting serious with the Diplomat and I was slipping into “accidental monogamy,” I remained in contact with several of the guys I had been dating. For the most part, these were interactions as friends, like when the Pirate came to the burlesque show with me over the weekend. Mr. Dimple is another one whose friendship has grown over the past few months. When I told him I didn't think I wanted to be sleeping with other people back in May, he took it totally in stride and never forced the issue. He was also the first person I talked to when I discovered the Diplomat's cheating.

Mr. Dimple's live-in girlfriend went out of town for a few days, and he invited me to come hang out for the day on Thursday since my internship was over. Don't worry, his girlfriend was totally cool with it- unlike some, they are upfront with each other when they're seeing other people. She and I have even hung out. The invitation was mostly as friends, though, and I was looking forward to hanging out with him.

Since his girlfriend had taken their car to go out of town, I drove down to his house. I'll admit, in going to his house for the first time I was most excited to meet his dog. He has an adorable, sweet Rottweiler (I think?) mix that is a total love-bug. The dog and I were instant friends. It may have something to do with the treats I gave him.

We picked up some Thai carry-out, which we took back to his place to eat while watching streaming netflix. Oh, how I love you, streaming netflix. We laughed our assess off at the debauched comedy of Louis CK, and then got comfy together on the couch as we started what turned out to be a bad-movie marathon. Sitting next to each other turned into leaning on him, which turned into laying together on the couch. Still, it wasn't until the end of the last movie that we started making out.

I had forgotten what an amazing kisser Mr. Dimple is. Just the right amount of pressure and tongue- he sent shivers down my spine. Just as I had been nervous before my date with Isaiah that I wasn't ready to go out with a new person, I had been wondering when I'd be ready to have sex with somebody after months of monogamy. As his hands founds his way to my bra clasp, I knew I was ready to jump back in RIGHT THEN.

And man, was it a good way to do so. We didn't even make it to the bedroom- he just bent me over the back of the couch. His hands were everywhere I wanted them to be, and his mouth moved from my shoulders to my neck to right behind my earlobes, and back again. When it was over, I collapsed into a sweaty, giggling heap on the couch. “I really needed that,” I explained, and promptly let myself fall over onto his lap.

I finally got around to collecting myself enough to get dressed and ready to go. With a huge hug, a friendly kiss, and a contented grin, I headed home.

Things I Miss About Having a Boyfriend

Things I Miss About Having a Boyfriend:

Sharing the gigantic, comfy bed in a hotel room

Sleeping on his shoulder during the flight

Kissing goodbye at the airport

Calling after a flight to let him know I've arrived okay


I'm in Seattle this weekend for a friend's wedding. It's the trip the Diplomat and I were supposed to be taking together.

Getting Back on the Horse

With the implosion of things with the Diplomat, the vultures immediately began to circle. I had two booty call offers that weekend, but I chose not to take either one. Instead, I went to see a burlesque show by myself on Friday night. I was able to just enjoy myself, being by myself. Though the Pirate joined me halfway through the show, there was no pressure to make it a date.

I had been talking to a new guy online just before the breakup, and he chose that week to finally ask me out. I was really nervous about whether or not I was ready to go on a date with a new person, but I ultimately decided that I wanted to give it a shot. Worst case scenario, I could be that crazy woman that breaks down in the middle of dinner shouting “I just can't do this!”

We agreed to meet for drinks on Wednesday night, which also happened to be my last day at my internship. What I didn't realize is that my coworkers had planned to take me out for happy hour that night as well. When I found that out, I was stuck. I could cancel the date and go to happy hour, meet my date later that night, or invite him to come to happy hour with us. I took the last route.

That's right, I changed plans on a first date to bring him to happy hour with six coworkers. I'm a bad person.

Isaiah was a good sport about the whole situation. One of my coworkers teased that it was the first test- if he couldn't deal with me changing plans to something crazy at the last minute, we probably wouldn't last. He got along well with all of us, and was laughing and talking with everyone. On my end of things, it took a lot of pressure off the first date. I didn't feel like I had to fill the silences or come up with endless interesting conversation, because there were other people who had things to say as well. I'm sure it wasn't quite so easy for him, but at the end of the day, I liked it.

As people began to dwindle away from the happy hour, Isaiah and I decided to go down the block to a nearby cafe and get some dessert. We split a brownie sundae, and had really interesting conversation about music (he's a bass player), the fluidity of sexuality (we're both somewhere in the middle of the Kinsey scale), and how hot that Old Spice commercial guy is (he can imitate Isaiah Mustafa's booming voice perfectly- thus this date's nickname). He was really easy to talk to! It also helped that he is super hot- tall and muscular, with medium-length dreds. At one point I touched his arm, and it took all my willpower not to rub all the way up to his bicep.

Things were winding down with dessert, and as I was about to ask him to walk me to my car, he suggested we go down to the neighborhood park. I was really not wanting the date to end yet, so I agreed. We found the little playground at the side of the park, and sat down on the swing-set. How much cuter can you get on a first date than brownie sundaes and a swing-set? I was killing myself with the sugary sweetness of the whole situation, and loving every minute of it.

He did walk me back to my car after that, and as we were saying goodbye we kissed. The entire date I'd been thinking to myself, “This is going so well. Please don't let him turn out to be a bad kisser!” I was worried over nothing- that boy knew what he was doing.

Ideally, I wouldn't suggest that someone go on a date just a week after a hurtful breakup. But I've never been one for following my own advice. He may be a rebound, or he may be around for a while- only time will tell. Either way, having a good date with Isaiah was a wonderful reminder that life goes on.

Mind the Red Flags

So I disappeared for a bit there. My apologies. The Diplomat and I were getting really serious, and it didn't seem right to be blogging about it. When I say really serious, I mean conversations about where to live and how many kids to have and when we'd want to get married.

That was all brought to a crashing halt last week, when I found out that he had been secretly dating another woman. The problem isn't the dating, it's the SECRETLY dating. The most important thing to me in a relationship is honesty, and he was being dishonest not only to me, but to her.

How did I find out? It's not a proud moment for me. I read his email. That in and of itself should have been a big enough red flag for me to end the relationship. When you can no longer trust your partner without feeling the need to spy on them, there is a serious problem. What made it even worse for me was that he and I had had a conversation not even a week before about how I was having trust issues, and I thought we really needed to work on them. Instead, he was apparently planning dates with this other woman.

But in speaking of red flags, I have to kick myself for not minding the biggest one I've ever had in a relationship. Back in May, the first time I ever read his email account, I discovered that he and his friends had been saying really terrible things about me behind my back. We're talking name calling, body-bashing, downright hateful things. And yes, the Diplomat was not only allowing these conversations to take place, but participating in them.

I of course confronted him about what I had seen. He was horribly embarrassed (as well he should have been,) but more because I had found out about the behavior than the way he'd been acting in the first place. He apologized profusely, cried—the whole nine yards. And I forgave him. I chalked it up to a stupid decision on his part to try to impress his idiotic friends. I felt betrayed, yes, but I thought it was something we could move past.

Clearly, I was wrong. I realized how wrong I was when all I could think about were the things he'd said and my overwhelming desire to look at his email again to know if he was still doing it. That's why I was looking at his email last week, when I discovered him cheating.

I don't blame the other woman at all. He was lying to her just as much. In the emails I found, he carefully avoided mentioning me in any way. So the next day, after he and I broke up, I sent her an email. It said that I was not mad at her, but that I wanted her to know what was going on. I explained that I was almost certain that she had no idea I existed. She was kind enough to reply later that day to confirm my suspicions- her response said, “I am so sorry. I never would have gone out with him if I knew he had a girlfriend.”

With that one line, she confirmed everything I knew to be true. The Diplomat had been swearing that they were just hanging out as friends and that nothing had happened, and like most people who have just ended a relationship with someone they love, I wanted to believe him. Because of her response, though, I know he was lying to me. I don't know if anything happened between them. I don't want to know. But whether or not they ever got physical, he was cheating on me.

A little over a week later, I am still dealing with those feelings of betrayal. We'd had a trip planned for this weekend, which I am now taking alone. I also had a first date last night with someone new. Even so, it's still fresh and it still stings. I'm confident that each day, though, will be a little easier than the day before. It is that thought which is getting me through.

Enter the Slum Lord

As I have hinted at before, I've been spending a lot of time with the Diplomat lately. Part of the reason for that was just the way the circumstances fell- I was swamped with schoolwork so I couldn't spend a lot of time going out. Even so, it was a conscious choice to keep seeing the Diplomat even as I was telling everyone else I was busy. I really like spending time with him. He's smart, he's funny, he's sweet- and those are just the beginning. Lately, every time I spend the night at his house he makes breakfast in the morning. That may not sound like such a big thing, except that he doesn't (or didn't) usually eat breakfast. There have also been multiple occasions when him making breakfast turned into him bringing me breakfast in bed. I'm getting spoiled, let me tell you!

Still, with all this time that we were spending together, I had only met his friends once. When he asked me to go out with him to Korean BBQ with a bunch of his college friends, I was apprehensive but I agreed. The first time I met these people, I got way too drunk and acted like an absolute fool. Even worse, I didn't find out about how I'd acted until after. That's the thing about getting drunk, I suppose- you think you're totally pulling it off, while everyone around you is scared. Apparently, and I am still ashamed to even admit this, at one point I was rubbing on the Diplomat's friend's leg. What kind of person does that?? Not the person I thought I was.

So like I said, I was nervous to be seen around these friends again, but I figured if the Diplomat and I are going to keep dating, I'm going to need to be able to face his friends.

We were the first ones to the restaurant (it seems the Diplomat and I are the only ones that feel bad when we're not punctual.) Then his friends started trickling in. They included his two best friends, one of whom lives out of town now, the other best friend's sort-of-girlfriend, a bunch of the guys they went to college with, and a couple people they play on an indoor soccer team with.

Things got off to a rocky start. When the best friend that lives in town, Slum Lord, walked in the room, the first words out of his mouth were, "Hi Date Slut. Move over." W.T.F?? I was immediately put on edge. (And for the record, I did not move over.) That man seriously rubs me the wrong way. He acts like everyone should do what he says, just because he says it. He's rude and abrasive, especially to women. For god's sake, he refers to his sort-of-girlfriend as "38," because that's how old she was when they started dating. Call me a femi-nazi if you must, but that is just not okay.

Even with Slum Lord being dickish throughout dinner, the experience was mostly enjoyable. I felt like I was being really quiet, but I still managed to get to know some of the Diplomat's soccer friends a little better. When dinner was over, they decided to go to a nearby bar for drinks. I was getting tired and feeling cranky, but I put on my best brave face and tried to enjoy it as much as I could. And I did enjoy parts of it. The Diplomat's best friend that lived out of town seemed like a lot of fun, and I wish we'd gotten to hang out more. The soccer friends were sweet. His other college guy friends didn't say two words to me, but the Diplomat said afterwards that he thinks it's mostly because they're intimidated by women. What I really appreciated the most was when I texted the Diplomat to let him know that I was ready to go home, he made his polite excuses and bowed out for us instead of brushing me off or blaming it on me. That meant a lot to me.

That was several weeks ago, at the beginning of finals time. The weekend before I went out of town, the Diplomat invited a bunch of his friends over for ribs at his house. These were mostly people he plays soccer with- in fact, they might have all been soccer friends. I'm not entirely positive. Regardless, Slum Lord was there again. When I expressed my disinterest in seeing Slum Lord again, the Diplomat predicted that things would be better this time around, as Slum Lord tends to be less of a chauvinist around this group of friends.

The Diplomat was right, and things actually went better with him this third time around. He wasn't nearly as dickish. There was still some clear animosity between us, though. I think I shocked him at the end of the night when most everyone else had left, when I turned to him and asked point-blank, "Why do you hate me?" He said, "I don't hate you, I just don't trust you yet, and I don't like change." I think that sounds like a cop-out. I think it would have been much more honest if he'd said, "I don't like you for my friend," or, "You acted like a total ass the first time we met," or, "I hate everyone until I get to know them."

Either way, he's the Diplomat's friend. That means it doesn't matter how I feel about him, I'm not going to say bad things about him to the Diplomat or try to keep them from hanging out, or any of those other ridiculous things some girlfriends do. It does mean that I am going to be nice when we do hang out, and maybe someday we'll actually kind of like each other. But I'm not holding my breath.

Booty-call Buddies

McCool and I still haven't managed to get together since the one night of amazing sex. We've talked, though- I just can't ever get him to commit to a time to see each other. While our conversations had been sporadic at best, right after his hear attack they picked up a lot. My first instinct was to try and help however I could, and that mostly meant keeping him company online while he was recovering in the hospital.

Somewhere in the course of those conversations, we got on the topic of what can only tenuously be called our relationship. He professes to still want to see me, but it has finally sunk in that he is never going to make time for me. Still, I'm not one to give up an amazing bed partner without a fight.

With that in mind, we discussed the possibility of becoming each other's “designated booty call.” After all, we both like sex, and we both like each other. It makes perfect sense, right?

Unfortunately, the first few times he tried to test the new system came in the midst of my end-of-semester craziness. As much as it pained me, I had to turn him down. I was in a self-imposed exile that was only lifted for the Diplomat. Finally, though, I couldn't stand it anymore and needed a break. I called McCool, only for him to say that he was hosting friends for a Lost party and couldn't get together.

Call me crazy, but a booty call only works when the two people can managed to both be free at the same time. On the one hand, this makes me feel a little better-it means that we really do have incompatible schedules. The fact that we only went out two and a half times wasn't just him being a jerk. Still, I'm left with a bad taste in my mouth about the whole situation. If he really liked me that much, he could have made time for me.

I'm willing to continue giving this booty call thing a chance now that the semester crush is over. If he's always the one making the successful calls, though, I don't see the arrangement lasting long.

Saturday- The Day of Mistakes

As much as I would like to be able to report that the Dreamer is out of my life, that's not the case. For starters, he is ostensibly my fellow employee and semi-boss at my part-time job. Probably not the best position, you might be thinking-and you'd be right. While I've tried to remain generally friendly, he's been pushing for a bit more.

The first indication I had that he was still hoping for something between us was the week before finals. I got a text from him while I was in a night class asking me out for a drink. I turned him down on account of school, but asked why he wanted to get together. He claimed innocent intentions, but the whole situation smacked of an attempted booty call.

Then not long after, in fact the same day as I went to the Bird Man's house, he showed up at my office. I was working alone on filing- I'm generally the only person there on Saturdays, and he knows it. I didn't mind him coming by, though it was a bit uncomfortable. We tried making small talk, neither of us really willing to put forward our own personal happenings since the breakup.

Eventually we ended up with him sitting on a couch in the office while I perched on the arm of it. Being that close to him, all I could think of was how much I missed pressing up against his broad chest. I think he was having thoughts in a similar vein, as he soon offered me a shoulder rub. When it was done, instead of going back to the arm of the couch, I sat down next to him.

As we joked and flirted, I kept staring at the flecks of green in his eyes as they caught the light, and before I knew it, I'd leaned over to kiss him. Almost instantly I was straddling him on the couch as we made out. His hands quickly found their way under my shirt and pulled it over my head. As he lifted my breasts free from my bra, my mind was overcome by his smell and the feel of him pressed against me.

He wrapped his arms around me as he picked me up and laid me on the floor, kneeling above me. Had either of us had condoms, there is no doubt in my mind that we would have had sex. When I told him I didn't have any, he barely acknowledged the statement. He instead pulled doff my pants and took off his own, his eyes filled with lust.

I'll admit to two fleeting thoughts. The first was the temptation to have sex anyway. This thought I immediately discarded. The second was that he might not stop. I reminded myself, though, that for all the problems the Dreamer has exhibited in the past, disregarding my right to say no has never been one of them.

We didn't have sex on the office floor. Instead, I had him sit back on the leather couch while I gave him a blowjob. When it was done, I retreated to the bathroom with my clothes.

All that was going through my mind was how stupid I'd been. Those thoughts were confirmed when I came out and saw him again. All those overwhelming feelings of missing him had vanished entirely. I was simply left feeling annoyed that he'd interrupted my day so dramatically, and though I did my best to hit it, all I wanted was for him to leave.

There is no worse feeling than regret over one's own actions. I was upset with myself, not him, for acting that way. Rather than the self-confident woman who doesn't need him around and is thriving quite nicely without him, I came off as needy and wanting him.

My fears that he would interpret that afternoon as a sign of my continued interest in him were confirmed this week. I was out of town when he texted me to ask if I would go see a movie with him. I turned him down, but the entire situation makes me uneasy. While the Dreamer isn't a bad guy, I feel much better off without him.

Saturday- Kissing a Friend

During the last week of classes, my laptop died. While this would be bad news for most people, for me it was devastating. I had a final exam to take, and semester papers to turn in. Thankfully I'd backed up my hard drive a few days before, but there were still some files I needed.

This is where having a cadre of computer geek friends comes in handy. I had one diagnose the likely problem. From what he could tell, it looks like the motherboard is fried. That's the best bad news I could get, to be honest. It meant my files were okay on my hard drive- but I had no way to get to them.

When my friend the Bird Man heard that, he immediately suggested I bring my laptop over. The plan was for him to put my hard drive in his computer and copy the files over for me. I jumped at the opportunity! So after work on Saturday afternoon, I headed down to his house.

While the computer was the main reason for the trip, there was also a promise of margaritas on his deck. We also ordered pizza, and while we waited for it he performed laptop surgery. The patient came through great, and I was able to get everything I needed (including all my Date Slut files!) We plopped on the couch with our drinks and pizza, and what would happen to be on tv but one of the greatest movies of all time- The Goonies!

At one point, somewhere around two margaritas in, I got the sudden urge to do a somersault. The Bird Man said he didn't know how to do one, so I cleared some space on his living room floor, leaned down, and executed a very drunken somersault. Then I got the Bird Man to do one too! That just egged me on- next, I wanted to do a cartwheel.

There was no way to do a cartwheel in his living room without breaking his stuff (and likely myself) in the process, so we went out on the deck. My cartwheel definitely needs more work.

We went back inside just as Robin Hood: Men in Tights was coming on. We sat on the couch, still giggling from the impromptu gymnastics, when I noticed that he had inched a little closer to me than he'd been before. To see if I was just imagining things, I pointed it out, then scooted over myself.

Now, just to make things clear, I had absolutely no ulterior motives when I went over to the Bird Man's house that day. In fact, I think the most flirting I'd ever done with him was one night over gchat when I was tipsy. But between the giggling, the margaritas, and the computer fixing, I'd definitely turned the corner into new territory. So when he leaned over and kissed me, my immediate response was to tell him, “well that took you long enough!”

I had planned to go home that night so I could be good the next morning and work on some more papers, but I didn't feel like I was in a position to drive, so I asked the Bird Man if I could crash on his couch. He said sure, but that I was also welcome to crash in his bed.

That comes off as making the Bird Man out to be more suave than he really is. He's just your typical friendly computer programmer, who most girls don't look at twice because of the dorky demeanor and nerdy laugh. The statement about sleeping in his bed took a few false starts and some stammering to get out. Still, it was nice. I made it clear to him, though, that I wasn't going to be doing anything other than sleeping.

I still consider the Bird Man to be just a friend, but I don't know what he's thinking about things. I definitely regret kissing him after the fact, that much is sure. I've avoided bringing it up, though. I know I need to have that conversation, and I will...I'm just in no rush. I wish some things, when ignored, would just go away.

Catching Up, or Why Grad School Controls My Life

I apologize for my lack of posting in the last few weeks- I've been swamped with work for the end of my semester. Grad school can be a bitch that way!

First things first, McCool is okay. He's back at home and seems to be recovering well. It looks like it's just a case of him losing the genetic lottery.

I haven't been going out a ton lately, for the same reason I haven't had time to post. I did have another date with the Mad Scientist that ended in him coming back to my place. He was amused that I had “his brand” of condoms. You may call it wishful thinking, but a girl shouldn't be without at least a few Magnums!

The Mad Scientist really is a good kisser. I'd go so far as to say that he's a great kisser. But the actual sex is just...okay. I suppose the enthusiasm with which he approaches it counts for something, but I was seriously worried that we were going to wake up my housemates with the way my bed was squeaking! I think I need to tighten the bolts now.

I think he thought I was joking when I told him he could spend the night, but I had to leave by 7am to get to school. Sadly, I was not. I let him sleep in while I got ready, then woke him up and rushed off. He's called me a couple times since then. It's so strange to be dating a guy who willingly calls! I can't remember any other guys like that.

Also at the beginning of the month, the Diplomat went to Spain and France for a week. That is, he went to Spain, and was supposed to go to France, but his flight was grounded with the ongoing spewing of that-Icelandic-volcano-that-no-one-can-pronounce (hey, it takes about as long to say that as to actually say Eyjafjallajokull.) Because of that, he came home a few days early.

He was originally scheduled to be back Thursday evening, and the plan was for me to go to his house and make him dinner. With the change, though, he was getting back on Tuesday, when I have class. When I got there after, HE had made ME dinner! I couldn't believe it. Of course, that meant I had to repay him with a little something special. I was impressed he could perform after 10 hours on a plane, but perform he did.

The other big thing he did while he was gone was to finally grow the beard I've been bugging him to try. He just seemed like the kind of guy that could pull it off, and I was right. He's gotten nothing but compliments since, and I've of course taken all the credit.

There's much more that has happened, but I am going to have to take some time to try and sort it all into coherent stories. So look forward to a posting binge this week!

Good thoughts needed

Hey everybody-

I found out that McCool had a heart attack on Friday, despite being 32 and otherwise in good health. He's still in the hospital for testing to find out what caused it. If everyone could send some good thoughts and healing vibes his way, I'd really appreciate it (though he'd probably go on a rant about why the universe doesn't work that way.)

Thanks.

Sunday- Booty Call

I had tentative plans with the Blues Man on Sunday for an actual study date. No, that's not a euphemism. We both have a lot of papers to finish before the end of the semester, so we were going to get together to work on them. It feel through, though, and so I found myself sitting in my house Sunday afternoon, growing increasingly horny.

That's how I found myself texting the Diplomat for a booty call. Of course, I actually like spending time with the guy, so it was more like “I want your body. Oh, and let's have dinner, too.” The Diplomat has been over to my house a few times, but only to pick me up. I wanted him to see how I live, as sappy as that may sound. For god's sake, he'd never even seen my bedroom or office!

Well, that was quickly remedied when he came over. I gave him a tour of the house, and somehow it managed to end in the bedroom (imagine that!) It's been so hot here lately that we ended up a sweaty, sticky mess. In other words, it was fantastic.

I'd promised dinner- this was a high-class booty call, after all- so we went downstairs to make it. This was also the first time I'd cooked for him, and he's been doing such fancy meals for me, I was intimidated. I was also almost out of food- I missed the farmer's market on Saturday where I get most of my food for the week, and I hadn't gone to the grocery store to get some other stuff. That meant I had to fall back on one of my “whatever's left in the fridge” staples- homemade flatbread pizzas. Not terribly impressive, but he seemed happy with it, and I thought it tasted good.

By the time we were done eating, it was getting late. We'd gotten horribly sweaty earlier, and the heat from the oven had created a furnace in the kitchen that was cooking us alive. That meant there was only one solution- a cool shower. This wasn't the first time the Diplomat and I have showered together; even so, there's something undeniably sex about seeing a partner naked and glistening with soap and water. That's not to mention how much fun it is to rub against each other when you're all slippery. In other words, I'm a big fan of showering together for reasons other than having someone to wash your back.

Afterwards, we went to my room to get ready for bed. We completely disregarded the fact that we'd just cooled down, and we heated things up again. Then we lay in bed together, touching as much as we could without feeling like we were going to suffocate from the body heat, and started talking.

“Something has changed,” he told me. “Since we went sailing, things have felt different.”

I had to agree. It's not that I think our sailing trip changed things, but that it was about that time that I started looking at him differently. Maybe it had something to do with splitting up from the Dreamer that allowed me to see what else could develop, but it's definitely gone beyond “just hanging out” recently between me and the Diplomat. I told him so (leaving out the part about the Dreamer, of course). Still, I was surprised by his next question.

“So would I be off-base if I referred to you to my friends as my girlfriend?”

If I'm going to be completely honest, I have to admit that I was relieved. I'd considered broaching the topic a couple times in the last week or so, but after the way things went down with the Dreamer, I was afraid to bring it up. I feel like in that case, I had pushed him into more of a relationship than he was wanting, and it all blew up in my face. So this time, it's really exciting that we're on the same page. We talked about what “being serious” meant to us, and what we want out of a relationship. We talked about still dating others, and that both of us are absolutely wanting that. But I was also careful to explain that doing so doesn't mean to me that he and I are any less committed. In other words, I tried to learn from the mistakes I'd made in dating the Dreamer.

The Diplomat had to leave early the next morning, as usual. I had laughed earlier in the week when my roommate remarked upon how rarely my guys stay over past 8am, but it's so true. Still, better that than a guy who never leaves!

Friday- How to Get Mega Brownie Points

This was the weekend of concerts, as I had plans to see another show on Friday night with the Diplomat. The venue was near his work south of town, so in the interest of not backtracking a zillion times to meet up in town, I instead drove to his office and we went together to the show.

Unfortunately, I'd been having stomach pains all day. I don't know what's causing them, but they're becoming more frequent. I wouldn't go so far as to say that they're debilitating, but they're definitely distracting and painful. I didn't want to miss the concert, though, so I sucked it up and went anyway. Plus I was really looking forward to seeing the Diplomat.

We found seats and sat through the first two acts, with the Diplomat continually checking in to see how I was doing. I could tell he was worried about me, but I was really enjoying the show. I stayed seated while everyone else stood for the big act; I was worried about making my stomach worse and ruining the entire night. By the very end I was feeling about 90% better, though, so I jumped around for the encore.

The Diplomat offered to let me drive his car on the way home; it's a manual, and though I learned how to drive one years ago, I'm worried that I'm forgetting. I figured the crush of post-concert traffic was probably not the place to refresh my memory, though. We picked up my car, and we both drove over to his house. Parking was TERRIBLE. He found a spot, then got in my car with me to help me find another. He lives in a part of town that is really old, so it's all parallel parking on the street. I'm not the greatest parallel parker to begin with, and when the only spot I can find is less than a foot longer than my car, I'm screwed. Thankfully, I was able to ask the Diplomat to do it for me. He squeezed in, and made it look so easy!

He had dinner all but ready at home, and whipped together a guacamole to finish it. It was so good. I would seriously not complain about eating guacamole every day. He'd also made more butterscotch mousse for dessert.

We were completely exhausted by the time we were done, and went up to bed. We had nice, sweet, slow sex, and fell asleep tangled up in each other.

I had to work the next morning, so the Diplomat set his alarm for us to wake up. He didn't have to do that- he had nothing to wake up for- but he wanted to get breakfast together in the morning before I left. When the alarm went off, I made some pitiful excuse about not wanting to wake up yet. He told me to go back to sleep, so I did.

An hour later, he woke me back up. “I got breakfast,” he told me. And he did. He'd gone out to a local pastry shop to pick up fresh croissants, and he made cappuccinos. I've had guys do sweet things for me, but letting me sleep in on a Saturday morning and bring me breakfast on a day when he didn't even have to be up definitely takes the cake.

We went back to his room after breakfast, and let's just say I was late to work that morning. There were no toys, no handcuffs, no kink- just good sex. I can't think of a better way to start the weekend than cuddling with him in bed, his hands running through my hair and feeling his warmth. And if he keeps up the breakfast in bed, I foresee it happening a lot.

Thursday- He Blows My...You Know

When I found out a band I like was playing downtown, I decided I was going to go, whether or not I had someone to go with. Just in case, though, I bought an extra ticket. When I offered it up to my friends and guys I'm dating, Mr. Dimple was the first to respond. That meant he won. A few hours later, though, I got an email from the Anarchist saying (half-jokingly) that he couldn't believe I didn't ask him, since I knew he liked that type of music. I told him he should still get his own ticket and then he could hang out with us.

Was that rude of me to Mr. Dimple? Quite possibly. I know some guys who are okay with polyamory in the abstract don't want to be confronted with it in the form of meeting the Other Significant Others. There was no way I was going to un-invite Mr. Dimple, though, and the Anarchist seemed so bummed that he didn't have anyone to go to the show with.

Mr. Dimple came over to my house a few hours before the show. We'd planned to go out to dinner, but hadn't decided where, when he told me that he was in a sort of foul mood and that a “really good hamburger” would help. I knew just the place- the bar/restaurant down the street from me. The food was good, the beer was cold, the waitress was hot- the perfect combination. It was already a great dinner, when the waitress asked if we wanted dessert. As she rattled off the list of possibilities, she ended with the “salted caramel cupcake, optional with or without bacon.”

She must have seen my eyes light up. I looked to Mr. Dimple for support, but he just laughed. “You want one,” she told me. “Salted caramel cupcake with bacon? Yes? Do it. You know you want to.” Now that is the kind of peer pressure I can get behind!

It was absolutely amazing. Sweet and savory and salty and greasy. The problem is, I now know there is such a delicious creature lurking just a few blocks away from my house.

When we got back to my place from dinner, I pointed out that my roommates were both gone. I seduced Mr. Dimple with the words, “I have condoms this time.” That was all it took.

Mr. Dimple likes to say that he hates the stereotype of Irish men having small penises (I'd never heard that as a stereotype, but okay.) I don't have the heart to tell him, though, that he doesn't exactly prove it wrong. Still, it's all in how you use it. The funnest (not funniest!) part is how long he orgasms. It goes on forever! By the end of it, I was giggling with the near absurdity of it. Most of his skill lies in the oral arts, though- and that's not a complaint. Every girl needs a guy who can blow her mind while he blows her....you know.

The show was great. Mr. Dimple and the Anarchist didn't really say anything to each other, but it didn't seem like either felt terribly awkward. I kept in mind that I was on a date with Mr. Dimple, though, so he was the one I showed affection to. My favorite part was when I (slightly drunkenly) tried to adjust my halter top. When I looked up, both of them did the quick eye-shift towards the ceiling. “You can look,” I told them, “you've both already seen them!”

Just like the last time he stayed the night, Mr. Dimple originally needed to get the car back to his girlfriend pretty early the next morning. In the middle of the show, though, she sent him a text. “I can take the train to work tomorrow,” it told him. “But she better be hot.” Now that is love!

He did spend the night, and since we weren't in a hurry when we got up the next morning, Mr. Dimple offered to make me breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast- it's what I usually have, but it tastes even better when you have a cute guy making it for you. When he finally left in the late morning, my roommate pointed out that it was the latest a guy had ever stayed in the morning. The Dreamer used to have to get up ridiculously early for work, and last time Mr. Dimple was over he had to leave early, too. It's kind of nice to get an early start on the day, but sleeping in and having a lazy morning together definitely has its perks, too.