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.
Showing posts with label the Dreamer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the Dreamer. Show all posts
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
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!
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!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Thursday- When Things are "Not That Serious", or Lights Out for the Dreamer
Thursday night is when things began to fall apart.
The Dreamer had asked me to do some contract work for him Friday morning, painting in a house that he property manages, and I said sure. Since we were going to have to leave early, though, I invited him over for dinner Thursday night. That way, we could just leave from my house Friday.
I had planned to make chicken tikka masala for dinner, but I have issues with cooking meat. It's a weird hangup, I know, but we're all allowed to have them! The Dreamer had agreed to cook the chicken for it, so I had that all thawed and the rice on. While we were waiting, we sat at the kitchen table and were talking. Then his phone rang.
It was one of the owners he does property management for, and the owner needed a copy of a contract that night that the Dreamer had at his house. There was no other option but to go get it. His house is only 15 minutes away from mine, but it was still an annoyance. I went with him, he got what he needed sent off, and he started driving back to my house.
About a block away, I brought up “Our Relationship.” Because of our conversation the week before where we decided not to be boyfriend/girlfriend, I was beginning to wonder if we were on the same page about what our relationship was at all. So, I asked him.
“I don't think we need to talk about this,” he told me. But I insisted.
“Well, I didn't think we were that serious.”
Here, imagine the most shocked, confused, hurt expression you can. That's what my face looked like at that moment.
I don't know how someone can mistake what we had for “not being serious.” Granted, we weren't exclusive, but that was a parameter of the relationship that had been agreed on in the beginning. He was coming over 2-3 times a week, just to eat dinner and hang out on the couch. I don't know how other people do things, but that's definitely NOT something I do with a person I'm just “casual” with.
I told him this, and he said he felt like a jerk. What I should have done was agree with him, but I had already slipped into my “make everyone else feel better” mode, and I ended up consoling HIM, if you can believe that. I told him that if he wanted to just date casually, we could do that, but it wasn't going to look like what it had been like up to this point. I think I meant that when I said it, but as I have more space from the conversation, I think I've changed my mind. I don't want to date him, even casually. It hurt. It really hurt. It was like he was saying all the effort I'd put into it, all the little things I'd done for him, all the conversations we'd had about serious problems in my life- all that hadn't been serious to him.
He still spent the night that night, and we still went out the next morning. He was so disorganized, though, that we spent 2 hours at Home Depot getting things for the project. At one point, he had me standing outside with two carts full of things he'd bought while he went back in for...something. He didn't tell me what he was doing when he did it, just to “wait for a sec.” Well that “sec” turned into 40 minutes. Forty minutes of standing outside a Home Depot, no idea what was going on, no way to leave if I'd needed to. Had I driven myself, I probably would have left.
When we got to the house we were painting, it turned out that the carpet cleaners were coming that day, so it wasn't even possible to paint. Instead, I helped the Dreamer do some landscaping at another house. When it was finally done we stopped for dinner before heading home; I hadn't eaten since breakfast. He knew of a little place with out-of-this-world tacos- at least those lived up to my expectations.
As we were eating, he told me that I was “kind of an asshole” to work with. I asked him what he meant, and he said it was because I'm really on top of getting things done, and I didn't let him “work at his own pace.” Seriously? What kind of business owner complains about his employees working too hard?
Even after the events of the last day, I invited him upstairs for a quickie when we got back to my house. In hindsight, that was a stupid thing to do- I wish the memory of the last sex we're likely to have was a happier one. Oh well, live and learn.
The Dreamer had asked me to do some contract work for him Friday morning, painting in a house that he property manages, and I said sure. Since we were going to have to leave early, though, I invited him over for dinner Thursday night. That way, we could just leave from my house Friday.
I had planned to make chicken tikka masala for dinner, but I have issues with cooking meat. It's a weird hangup, I know, but we're all allowed to have them! The Dreamer had agreed to cook the chicken for it, so I had that all thawed and the rice on. While we were waiting, we sat at the kitchen table and were talking. Then his phone rang.
It was one of the owners he does property management for, and the owner needed a copy of a contract that night that the Dreamer had at his house. There was no other option but to go get it. His house is only 15 minutes away from mine, but it was still an annoyance. I went with him, he got what he needed sent off, and he started driving back to my house.
About a block away, I brought up “Our Relationship.” Because of our conversation the week before where we decided not to be boyfriend/girlfriend, I was beginning to wonder if we were on the same page about what our relationship was at all. So, I asked him.
“I don't think we need to talk about this,” he told me. But I insisted.
“Well, I didn't think we were that serious.”
Here, imagine the most shocked, confused, hurt expression you can. That's what my face looked like at that moment.
I don't know how someone can mistake what we had for “not being serious.” Granted, we weren't exclusive, but that was a parameter of the relationship that had been agreed on in the beginning. He was coming over 2-3 times a week, just to eat dinner and hang out on the couch. I don't know how other people do things, but that's definitely NOT something I do with a person I'm just “casual” with.
I told him this, and he said he felt like a jerk. What I should have done was agree with him, but I had already slipped into my “make everyone else feel better” mode, and I ended up consoling HIM, if you can believe that. I told him that if he wanted to just date casually, we could do that, but it wasn't going to look like what it had been like up to this point. I think I meant that when I said it, but as I have more space from the conversation, I think I've changed my mind. I don't want to date him, even casually. It hurt. It really hurt. It was like he was saying all the effort I'd put into it, all the little things I'd done for him, all the conversations we'd had about serious problems in my life- all that hadn't been serious to him.
He still spent the night that night, and we still went out the next morning. He was so disorganized, though, that we spent 2 hours at Home Depot getting things for the project. At one point, he had me standing outside with two carts full of things he'd bought while he went back in for...something. He didn't tell me what he was doing when he did it, just to “wait for a sec.” Well that “sec” turned into 40 minutes. Forty minutes of standing outside a Home Depot, no idea what was going on, no way to leave if I'd needed to. Had I driven myself, I probably would have left.
When we got to the house we were painting, it turned out that the carpet cleaners were coming that day, so it wasn't even possible to paint. Instead, I helped the Dreamer do some landscaping at another house. When it was finally done we stopped for dinner before heading home; I hadn't eaten since breakfast. He knew of a little place with out-of-this-world tacos- at least those lived up to my expectations.
As we were eating, he told me that I was “kind of an asshole” to work with. I asked him what he meant, and he said it was because I'm really on top of getting things done, and I didn't let him “work at his own pace.” Seriously? What kind of business owner complains about his employees working too hard?
Even after the events of the last day, I invited him upstairs for a quickie when we got back to my house. In hindsight, that was a stupid thing to do- I wish the memory of the last sex we're likely to have was a happier one. Oh well, live and learn.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Sunday- To be, or not to be a Girlfriend
Sunday afternoon, the Dreamer came back over to help me assemble all the furniture we'd bought at Ikea the day before. It was amazing how well we worked together! I'm not used to working with competent people when it comes to assembly directions, that much was clear. After getting past my initial desire to bark orders at him, we worked pretty well as a team.
Watching a man get sweaty working with his hands threw my libido into overdrive, and I was barely able to wait until we were done with the assembly before dragging the Dreamer back to my bedroom. Strangely, it was almost a repeat of the day before- all oral, no actual sex. I'll tell you what, though, I am a lucky girl to have that problem. I've known too many men in my life that refused to go down on a woman- I'm making up for lost time. He finished on my chest (that's right, I went there!) and I was SHOCKED. I had to ask him, “is it this much every time??” Now I understand why he comes for so long.
When we were lying in bed afterwards, I brought back up the topic of not calling me his girlfriend. I apologized for getting so upset the day before that he hadn't told the new girl about me, and said I'd try to keep in mind that this is a totally new situation for him. I think my understanding in that situation was what allowed him to open up about what was really bothering him- having me be his girlfriend.
The way he explained it, while he is on board with polyamory in theory, it is hard for him to move past his preconceived notions of what a girlfriend should be. “If I have a girlfriend, I shouldn't be out with this other girl. Or if I am out with this other girl, than I don't really have a girlfriend. Or I have one, but I'm cheating on her. No matter what, it isn't good,” he told me.
“But you're happy in our relationship otherwise?” I asked.
“Very,” he said.
“Well then, I just won't be your girlfriend.”
He made me assure him that I was really okay with that, and I think I was. The more I thought about it afterwards, though, the more I had to wonder how much was about him being uncomfortable seeing other women while he has a girlfriend, and how much was just him being uncomfortable telling other women that he's seeing that he has a girlfriend. I still don't know the answer to that question, and I don't know how much it really matters at the core.
Regardless, the situation has me re-evaluating what being “boyfriend/girlfriend” really means to me. Is it about moving towards an eventual marriage? Wanting to move in together? Progress toward some end goal?
I don't know the answer to that, to be completely frank. I do know that the label holds some importance to me, but not necessarily in that I want to marry everybody who I want to be bf/gf with. For me, I think it's more that it is a place of honor- you aren't just one of the rabble that I'm dating, you're my boyfriend. It denotes a seriousness of the relationship, even if not in the monogamy/future marriage type of way. I think that to me it does signify a desire for intimacy and partnership, and even for a long-term relationship. I just don't subscribe to the notion that such a partnership has to end in marriage for it to have been worthwhile.
I'm a planner, and I always have been. It's just another of my conflicting gemini personality traits- I like to have very planned outlines, but fill in the middle spontaneously. Was it too early to think long-term with the Dreamer? Of course. But that didn't stop me from doing it.
He even addressed this when we were talking, when he told me that he knows I have certain big goals that I would potentially like him to be involved in, namely having kids. He said that he wants to know if it gets to the point where he needs to put up on those or move aside so someone else can fill that need for me, which I think was honorable, though a bit selfish. Basically it came across as “let me know at the very last minute so I can decide if it's something I'm willing to do.” Still, it's better than nothing. I'm happy with our relationship right now, no matter if it has a label or not.
Watching a man get sweaty working with his hands threw my libido into overdrive, and I was barely able to wait until we were done with the assembly before dragging the Dreamer back to my bedroom. Strangely, it was almost a repeat of the day before- all oral, no actual sex. I'll tell you what, though, I am a lucky girl to have that problem. I've known too many men in my life that refused to go down on a woman- I'm making up for lost time. He finished on my chest (that's right, I went there!) and I was SHOCKED. I had to ask him, “is it this much every time??” Now I understand why he comes for so long.
When we were lying in bed afterwards, I brought back up the topic of not calling me his girlfriend. I apologized for getting so upset the day before that he hadn't told the new girl about me, and said I'd try to keep in mind that this is a totally new situation for him. I think my understanding in that situation was what allowed him to open up about what was really bothering him- having me be his girlfriend.
The way he explained it, while he is on board with polyamory in theory, it is hard for him to move past his preconceived notions of what a girlfriend should be. “If I have a girlfriend, I shouldn't be out with this other girl. Or if I am out with this other girl, than I don't really have a girlfriend. Or I have one, but I'm cheating on her. No matter what, it isn't good,” he told me.
“But you're happy in our relationship otherwise?” I asked.
“Very,” he said.
“Well then, I just won't be your girlfriend.”
He made me assure him that I was really okay with that, and I think I was. The more I thought about it afterwards, though, the more I had to wonder how much was about him being uncomfortable seeing other women while he has a girlfriend, and how much was just him being uncomfortable telling other women that he's seeing that he has a girlfriend. I still don't know the answer to that question, and I don't know how much it really matters at the core.
Regardless, the situation has me re-evaluating what being “boyfriend/girlfriend” really means to me. Is it about moving towards an eventual marriage? Wanting to move in together? Progress toward some end goal?
I don't know the answer to that, to be completely frank. I do know that the label holds some importance to me, but not necessarily in that I want to marry everybody who I want to be bf/gf with. For me, I think it's more that it is a place of honor- you aren't just one of the rabble that I'm dating, you're my boyfriend. It denotes a seriousness of the relationship, even if not in the monogamy/future marriage type of way. I think that to me it does signify a desire for intimacy and partnership, and even for a long-term relationship. I just don't subscribe to the notion that such a partnership has to end in marriage for it to have been worthwhile.
I'm a planner, and I always have been. It's just another of my conflicting gemini personality traits- I like to have very planned outlines, but fill in the middle spontaneously. Was it too early to think long-term with the Dreamer? Of course. But that didn't stop me from doing it.
He even addressed this when we were talking, when he told me that he knows I have certain big goals that I would potentially like him to be involved in, namely having kids. He said that he wants to know if it gets to the point where he needs to put up on those or move aside so someone else can fill that need for me, which I think was honorable, though a bit selfish. Basically it came across as “let me know at the very last minute so I can decide if it's something I'm willing to do.” Still, it's better than nothing. I'm happy with our relationship right now, no matter if it has a label or not.
Saturday pt 1- I'm "The Hot Chick He's Seeing"
Saturday afternoon, one of my roommates was having a party to celebrate a big event in her life- her conversion to Judaism (Mazel Tov!!) She made sure to invite the Dreamer, since he's “her favorite.” He came over for the party and chatted with people for a while- I was very impressed with him, especially since he's usually shy around people he doesn't know. As things started to wind down, I asked if he would go to Ikea with me to buy furniture for my new office. He has a truck and big muscles- two vital ingredients in furniture shopping.
While on the way there, I brought up the topic of his first date with a new girl. This was also the first date he's gone on since we got together, so I was most interested in how he handled telling her about our dating situation. Much to my chagrin, he hadn't.
“Did you tell her you had a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Did you at least tell her you are seeing someone?”
“No.”
I sat in a rather stony silence for a few minutes, before pointing out the obvious- “you have to tell her.”
“I will,” he assured me, “I just have to figure out how to do it.”
I tried not to freak out. After all, this is a new situation for him. In general, non-poly people try to hide the fact that they're in another relationship when they're dating someone, not be open and upfront about it. But as I ranted about in my post when I was the other woman with the Blues Man, it is absolutely vital to me that everyone know what is going on; a poly relationship (or any relationship, really) can't survive without open communication and honesty.
When I simmered down a bit from the initial shock, I asked him, “do you generally refer to me as your girlfriend when you're talking to people?”
“No,” he admitted.
“So what do you say?”
“Usually just the hot chick I'm seeing.”
Now, as far as titles go, I suppose that is one I can live with. But what's the point of being boyfriend and girlfriend if you don't want to tell people about it? I went through a long relationship where the guy was very hesitant to tell anyone about it- even his family- not because he was afraid of how they'd react, but just because he didn't like the feeling of them being “in his business.” I couldn't stand it; it made me feel hidden, which led to worries of his unhappiness in the relationship and my inadequacy.
I know that these are my issues, not the Dreamer's, but if you're going to date someone, you also have to in some part date their baggage. I explained this to him, and he said he understood and wasn't trying to hide me. It still put a damper on the trip, though.
While on the way there, I brought up the topic of his first date with a new girl. This was also the first date he's gone on since we got together, so I was most interested in how he handled telling her about our dating situation. Much to my chagrin, he hadn't.
“Did you tell her you had a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Did you at least tell her you are seeing someone?”
“No.”
I sat in a rather stony silence for a few minutes, before pointing out the obvious- “you have to tell her.”
“I will,” he assured me, “I just have to figure out how to do it.”
I tried not to freak out. After all, this is a new situation for him. In general, non-poly people try to hide the fact that they're in another relationship when they're dating someone, not be open and upfront about it. But as I ranted about in my post when I was the other woman with the Blues Man, it is absolutely vital to me that everyone know what is going on; a poly relationship (or any relationship, really) can't survive without open communication and honesty.
When I simmered down a bit from the initial shock, I asked him, “do you generally refer to me as your girlfriend when you're talking to people?”
“No,” he admitted.
“So what do you say?”
“Usually just the hot chick I'm seeing.”
Now, as far as titles go, I suppose that is one I can live with. But what's the point of being boyfriend and girlfriend if you don't want to tell people about it? I went through a long relationship where the guy was very hesitant to tell anyone about it- even his family- not because he was afraid of how they'd react, but just because he didn't like the feeling of them being “in his business.” I couldn't stand it; it made me feel hidden, which led to worries of his unhappiness in the relationship and my inadequacy.
I know that these are my issues, not the Dreamer's, but if you're going to date someone, you also have to in some part date their baggage. I explained this to him, and he said he understood and wasn't trying to hide me. It still put a damper on the trip, though.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Weekend of Canceled Plans
I was supposed to have a party Saturday night, but it was canceled at the last minute. Instead, the Dreamer came over to hang out for a while. We didn't feel like going out anywhere and I wasn't up for cooking, so we ordered a pizza. Then we sat on the couch and watched a House marathon. I ended up falling asleep on him before he finally decided to go to bed. At least this time he actually stayed through the night.
The next day, the Diplomat and I had plans to go sailing. The thing about sailing, though, is that it requires the cooperation of the weather. When it was realized that there was going to be no way that we could sail (no wind = no sailing, who knew?), we decided to go run some errands and pick up things that he needed for his new house.
There was only one problem with that plan- we'd forgotten that it was Easter Sunday. Nothing was open. We were finally faced with the choice of finding something to do or giving up and going home when I suggested a Vietnamese restaurant near my house. I figured Chinese places are always opened on Christmas Eve, so maybe Vietnamese would be open on Easter. I was right!
Over dinner, I brought up a topic that had been bothering me since the night of the Diplomat's birthday party. The guy who had uncomfortably cornered me earlier in the night had said something interesting later at the second bar. He had asked about polyamory, and what that meant. After I explained it, he looked me straight in the eyes and said, “you know the Diplomat isn't okay with this, right?”
Now, I don't think anybody else could speak for the Diplomat, but it was completely possible that his friend knew him better than I did. So I asked him about it.
“I consider this the experimental phase in my life,” he told me. I'm still not quite sure how to take that- is he saying that he is okay with polyamory now, but won't be later? That it's only a “phase” for him? It's okay if that's the case, I suppose- it's not that I have plans to marry him and have babies- but it's just the first true example I've seen of someone using polyamory as an experiment, rather than a choice that was carefully come to after lots of deliberation and self-searching.
The Diplomat took me home after dinner, with the promise that next time, we'd make sure it wasn't Easter Sunday when we went out.
The next day, the Diplomat and I had plans to go sailing. The thing about sailing, though, is that it requires the cooperation of the weather. When it was realized that there was going to be no way that we could sail (no wind = no sailing, who knew?), we decided to go run some errands and pick up things that he needed for his new house.
There was only one problem with that plan- we'd forgotten that it was Easter Sunday. Nothing was open. We were finally faced with the choice of finding something to do or giving up and going home when I suggested a Vietnamese restaurant near my house. I figured Chinese places are always opened on Christmas Eve, so maybe Vietnamese would be open on Easter. I was right!
Over dinner, I brought up a topic that had been bothering me since the night of the Diplomat's birthday party. The guy who had uncomfortably cornered me earlier in the night had said something interesting later at the second bar. He had asked about polyamory, and what that meant. After I explained it, he looked me straight in the eyes and said, “you know the Diplomat isn't okay with this, right?”
Now, I don't think anybody else could speak for the Diplomat, but it was completely possible that his friend knew him better than I did. So I asked him about it.
“I consider this the experimental phase in my life,” he told me. I'm still not quite sure how to take that- is he saying that he is okay with polyamory now, but won't be later? That it's only a “phase” for him? It's okay if that's the case, I suppose- it's not that I have plans to marry him and have babies- but it's just the first true example I've seen of someone using polyamory as an experiment, rather than a choice that was carefully come to after lots of deliberation and self-searching.
The Diplomat took me home after dinner, with the promise that next time, we'd make sure it wasn't Easter Sunday when we went out.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Thursday- Text Dates?
As someone who has had her share of long-distance relationships, I often wonder what exactly defines something as a “date.” There is something that has become ubiquitous about dinner and a movie, but that isn't the only thing to do on a date. So, if it isn't the activities that make something a date, is it something about how those activities are done? Isn't a date at its core just two people spending time together in order to get to know each other better? It's an imperfect definition, but I think that's what it is.
A few months ago, I began texting with the Nigerian, who is actually the Anarchist's neighbor. We'd met in passing, and he asked the Anarchist for my phone number. The first day, we sent a couple hundred texts back and forth, spanning the period of the entire day. We talked about everything from our backgrounds to life goals to food likes and dislikes. Not only were all the basic topics from a first date covered, we delved deeper than one probably would. That's the benefit of having an 8 hour date instead of a 2 hour one. At the end of the day when I was going to bed, the Nigerian thanked me for a great “text date.”
Things with the Nigerian didn't work out, but that phrase has stuck with me.
Thursday night after getting home from the terrible date with Ill-Fitting Suit, I was lounging outside with my housemates when the Dreamer texted me asking if I wanted to go to Ikea with him. If you know me, you know that question might as well have been rhetorical. After a trip there and a short stopover at Home Depot to get him some stuff for work, we went back to my place and went to bed.
Around 2am, he woke me up. His toothache was killing him, he couldn't sleep, and he wanted to go home. He couldn't let himself out, though, so I had to get up with him to unlock the door and then lock it back. Right as I was about to climb back into bed, my phone rang- he'd forgotten his glasses. So I had to get back up, bring them down to him, and go back to bed for a second time.
This time, though, I couldn't fall back asleep. I got on Facebook to try and kill some time before trying again. I had a message waiting for me from the Blues Man.
The Blues Man is actually one of my colleagues at school. He's a leftist-leaning Jewish drummer, which seems like a strange combination, but he totally makes it work. I'd been eying him since the first class, but only recently worked up the nerve to ask him out. Over Facebook, of course. It's the new way to pass notes in class. We agreed to go out the following Saturday, but kept messaging back and forth anyway.
I responded to the Blues Man's message and went about doing other internet-type things, when another message from him popped up. After a few more messages and responses, he pointed out that we could move off the internet, and gave me his phone number. So we started texting.
That night, we texted from about 3am until 7am, constant banter back and forth. In the course of it, we talked about work, school, our families, our friends- no topic was off limits. It didn't help that it was the middle of the night, when I get a lot freer with my willingness to share. It was so much fun! Truly, I felt like I could talk to him about anything, and was so comfortable with him it was as though I'd known him for years.
Around 7am, I asked him if he wanted to meet for breakfast. It seemed only appropriate, since we'd spent the entire night building up a delicious romantic and sexual tension. He agreed, and we made plans to meet up a few hours later.
Was this a date? I think so. It was everything you'd hope for in a great first date- witty banter back and forth, opening up about your pasts, playful flirting. The only thing it lacked was a kiss at the end.
Thankfully, that came at breakfast.
A few months ago, I began texting with the Nigerian, who is actually the Anarchist's neighbor. We'd met in passing, and he asked the Anarchist for my phone number. The first day, we sent a couple hundred texts back and forth, spanning the period of the entire day. We talked about everything from our backgrounds to life goals to food likes and dislikes. Not only were all the basic topics from a first date covered, we delved deeper than one probably would. That's the benefit of having an 8 hour date instead of a 2 hour one. At the end of the day when I was going to bed, the Nigerian thanked me for a great “text date.”
Things with the Nigerian didn't work out, but that phrase has stuck with me.
Thursday night after getting home from the terrible date with Ill-Fitting Suit, I was lounging outside with my housemates when the Dreamer texted me asking if I wanted to go to Ikea with him. If you know me, you know that question might as well have been rhetorical. After a trip there and a short stopover at Home Depot to get him some stuff for work, we went back to my place and went to bed.
Around 2am, he woke me up. His toothache was killing him, he couldn't sleep, and he wanted to go home. He couldn't let himself out, though, so I had to get up with him to unlock the door and then lock it back. Right as I was about to climb back into bed, my phone rang- he'd forgotten his glasses. So I had to get back up, bring them down to him, and go back to bed for a second time.
This time, though, I couldn't fall back asleep. I got on Facebook to try and kill some time before trying again. I had a message waiting for me from the Blues Man.
The Blues Man is actually one of my colleagues at school. He's a leftist-leaning Jewish drummer, which seems like a strange combination, but he totally makes it work. I'd been eying him since the first class, but only recently worked up the nerve to ask him out. Over Facebook, of course. It's the new way to pass notes in class. We agreed to go out the following Saturday, but kept messaging back and forth anyway.
I responded to the Blues Man's message and went about doing other internet-type things, when another message from him popped up. After a few more messages and responses, he pointed out that we could move off the internet, and gave me his phone number. So we started texting.
That night, we texted from about 3am until 7am, constant banter back and forth. In the course of it, we talked about work, school, our families, our friends- no topic was off limits. It didn't help that it was the middle of the night, when I get a lot freer with my willingness to share. It was so much fun! Truly, I felt like I could talk to him about anything, and was so comfortable with him it was as though I'd known him for years.
Around 7am, I asked him if he wanted to meet for breakfast. It seemed only appropriate, since we'd spent the entire night building up a delicious romantic and sexual tension. He agreed, and we made plans to meet up a few hours later.
Was this a date? I think so. It was everything you'd hope for in a great first date- witty banter back and forth, opening up about your pasts, playful flirting. The only thing it lacked was a kiss at the end.
Thankfully, that came at breakfast.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Tuesday- Bedtime
Tuesdays are my long days- I start work before 8am and don't finish until 9pm. By the end of it, I'm understandably dragging. Still, when the Dreamer texted me as I was driving home that he had a horrible toothache and didn't have any orajel, I immediately offered to bring him some. I thought I had some at home, so I went there first, but couldn't find it. I soon gave up in the search, said “screw it,” and went to Walgreens for a new tube.
When the Dreamer opened the door, the first words out of his mouth were “what's wrong?”
“Nothing,” I told him, “I'm just tired.”
He cocked his head to the side, looked at me, and said “come to bed with me.”
That was just what I needed to hear.
When the Dreamer opened the door, the first words out of his mouth were “what's wrong?”
“Nothing,” I told him, “I'm just tired.”
He cocked his head to the side, looked at me, and said “come to bed with me.”
That was just what I needed to hear.
The Weekend with the Dreamer
I've been such a bad poster! Between schoolwork and going on dates, I haven't had time to write about them! It's left me with a two week backlog, which I am going to try to rectify ASAP.
I spent a lot of time with the Dreamer the week before last. He needed to borrow a tall ladder from my roommate, so he came over Saturday to pick it up. I'd had a date planned with the Diplomat but wasn't feeling well, so when the Dreamer came over, I invited him to stay for dinner. I know, it might seem strange that I wasn't feeling good enough to see the Diplomat but wanted to see the Dreamer, but that's the difference between a boyfriend and someone I'm dating. When I don't feel well, I want my boyfriend there to cuddle with.
My roommate's friends also came over that night for dinner. The Dreamer was really nervous at first about interrupting them and (in his words) “bringing the party down” because he was exhausted after a long week of work, but we convinced him to stay, and all ended up having fun. I was feeling well enough by then to have some of the fancy cheese and delicious red wine- it would take a lot for me to not be well enough for that! Unfortunately, we also had champagne to toast one of my roommate's new jobs. Red wine + champagne = not a good combination. I thought I was going to spend the rest of the night with the Dreamer holding my hair back.
He had to leave in the morning for some more project work (thus the ladder-borrowing), but came back Sunday evening for some fun- dyeing easter eggs! None of us (me, the Dreamer, or my roommates) are “believers,” but just like Santa doesn't belong only to the Christians, we decided we could enjoy the fun of easter eggs without having to believe in any of the easter things to go along with it. Before he got there, my roommates and I went out for clown cones at Baskin Robbins. The Dreamer wasn't answering his phone or my texts about when he was coming over, and I was starting to get annoyed, so I almost purposely didn't get him a clown cone. I changed my mind, though, so I wasn't a totally heartless girlfriend.
Red wine, easter eggs, and clown cones. Three ingredients in the making of a great weekend.
I spent a lot of time with the Dreamer the week before last. He needed to borrow a tall ladder from my roommate, so he came over Saturday to pick it up. I'd had a date planned with the Diplomat but wasn't feeling well, so when the Dreamer came over, I invited him to stay for dinner. I know, it might seem strange that I wasn't feeling good enough to see the Diplomat but wanted to see the Dreamer, but that's the difference between a boyfriend and someone I'm dating. When I don't feel well, I want my boyfriend there to cuddle with.
My roommate's friends also came over that night for dinner. The Dreamer was really nervous at first about interrupting them and (in his words) “bringing the party down” because he was exhausted after a long week of work, but we convinced him to stay, and all ended up having fun. I was feeling well enough by then to have some of the fancy cheese and delicious red wine- it would take a lot for me to not be well enough for that! Unfortunately, we also had champagne to toast one of my roommate's new jobs. Red wine + champagne = not a good combination. I thought I was going to spend the rest of the night with the Dreamer holding my hair back.
He had to leave in the morning for some more project work (thus the ladder-borrowing), but came back Sunday evening for some fun- dyeing easter eggs! None of us (me, the Dreamer, or my roommates) are “believers,” but just like Santa doesn't belong only to the Christians, we decided we could enjoy the fun of easter eggs without having to believe in any of the easter things to go along with it. Before he got there, my roommates and I went out for clown cones at Baskin Robbins. The Dreamer wasn't answering his phone or my texts about when he was coming over, and I was starting to get annoyed, so I almost purposely didn't get him a clown cone. I changed my mind, though, so I wasn't a totally heartless girlfriend.
Red wine, easter eggs, and clown cones. Three ingredients in the making of a great weekend.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Tuesday- Morning Sex is My Heroin
Once you've had a taste, you keep coming back for me.
Tuesday evening, the Dreamer wanted to come over after I got out of class. I was late getting out, though, and he called to say he was in my neighborhood before I'd even left the campus. Instead of making him wait outside, I called my roommate to see if she'd mind him hanging around until I got home. She said it was no problem at all, so when I got there, the Dreamer was sitting in the living room watching my roommate paint the room next to it.
After I got there, we made a quick dinner and then went to bed. We didn't even have sex! The next morning, the Dreamer's alarm went off at 5am, his usual time. When I woke up a second time and saw the clock said 7am, I panicked a little and hurriedly woke him up. “I'm going in late,” he said. “I'm too tired.” So we went back to sleep.
When his alarm went off again, it was almost 9. He started to get out of bed to get moving, but I pulled him back down. I wasn't going to let him go again without getting a piece for myself.
Let's have a word on morning sex. In short, it's the best thing ever. Waking up next to someone you like (not someone you avoid waking up while you quickly dress and sneak out), avoiding the morning breath while kissing, and sharing the warmth under the covers- it's fantastic. It's hard enough to get up in the mornings when the bed is warm and the room is cold, but it's even harder when there's another person in that bed with you.
We finally got out of bed at 9:30, and he went off to work.
Tuesday evening, the Dreamer wanted to come over after I got out of class. I was late getting out, though, and he called to say he was in my neighborhood before I'd even left the campus. Instead of making him wait outside, I called my roommate to see if she'd mind him hanging around until I got home. She said it was no problem at all, so when I got there, the Dreamer was sitting in the living room watching my roommate paint the room next to it.
After I got there, we made a quick dinner and then went to bed. We didn't even have sex! The next morning, the Dreamer's alarm went off at 5am, his usual time. When I woke up a second time and saw the clock said 7am, I panicked a little and hurriedly woke him up. “I'm going in late,” he said. “I'm too tired.” So we went back to sleep.
When his alarm went off again, it was almost 9. He started to get out of bed to get moving, but I pulled him back down. I wasn't going to let him go again without getting a piece for myself.
Let's have a word on morning sex. In short, it's the best thing ever. Waking up next to someone you like (not someone you avoid waking up while you quickly dress and sneak out), avoiding the morning breath while kissing, and sharing the warmth under the covers- it's fantastic. It's hard enough to get up in the mornings when the bed is warm and the room is cold, but it's even harder when there's another person in that bed with you.
We finally got out of bed at 9:30, and he went off to work.
Saturday Part 2- Steak and BJ Day
When we went out earlier in the week, I mentioned to the Dreamer the concept of Steak & BJ Day. For those of you who don't know, it's on March 14, exactly one month after Valentine's Day. Since Valentine's is all about what women supposedly want (flowers, hearts, chocolate), Steak & BJ Day is what the guys want- namely steak and a bj. It's their reward for remembering Valentine's, basically.
Even though the Dreamer and I weren't together over Valentine's Day, celebrating Steak & BJ Day was definitely a priority. I was out of town on the 14th, so we picked Saturday night as the makeup. Now, officially the woman is supposed to cook the steak for the guy, but I'm not a griller. Instead, we went out. He was a little worried about the price of the steaks, but I told him it just meant I'd be expecting more for my birthday in a couple months.
After dinner, we had tickets to a burlesque show at a local club. Just to show how small the world really is, the Dreamer had mentioned to me on Wednesday that he'd been wanting to see these performers. I mentioned it to the Anarchist the next day, who told me that he is friends with one of the side acts, and they were performing Saturday! I got on the phone to the Dreamer, bought tickets, and so on Saturday we found ourselves standing outside a club with a bunch of hipsters.
The show was great, but the best part was the Dreamer offering to buy my beers since I'd bought his dinner. Since it was a hipster bar, they had Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap. Yum! I'm a total lightweight, though, so the Dreamer had to be responsible enough to be able to drive home that night. At one point, though, I reached into my purse, pulled something out, and put it in his hand. He looked down at what it was, blushed furiously red, and shoved his hand in his pocket.
It was a red g-string.
I leaned over and whispered to him, “I was thinking, what could be better than a blow job? A blow job in stripper clothes!” He enthusiastically agreed.
By the time we left the club, I was drunk. Not falling down drunk, mind you, but definitely inebriated. He loaded me into the car, helped me up the stairs to his room, and started to help me sit down on the bed before I reminded him about the stripper clothes. I made him close his eyes while I quickly changed into a red and black polkadot number.
After I told him he could look, I asked, “do you like me skirt?”
“That's not a skirt!” he said, “it's a strip of material!”
In other words, he liked it.
I sat him down in his desk chair and gave him the best lapdance I could in my compromised state. Unlike a strip club, he was allowed to touch. Of course, Steak and BJ Day wouldn't be complete without the bj.
The next morning, we slept in late and decided to go to my favorite local diner for breakfast. We had the rest of the day to spend together, so we decided to go to a movie. First, the Dreamer wanted to show me the next apartment he's getting.
Like I've mentioned, he's currently living with 4 other guys in a big rowhouse. Lately, though, he's been feeling uncomfortable being a 30 year old professional without his own place. So he's moving soon into a two bedroom apartment with only one roommate. The place is gorgeous, and I couldn't help but notice that the two bedrooms aren't adjoining. Yay for not having to whisper while having sex!
We went to see the movie, then decided it was such a beautiful day, we needed to spend part of it outside. We grabbed some beer from a corner store and went to my place to hang out in the backyard. When he finally left late that night, I couldn't help but remark on how great it felt to spend almost an entire weekend with him.
Even though the Dreamer and I weren't together over Valentine's Day, celebrating Steak & BJ Day was definitely a priority. I was out of town on the 14th, so we picked Saturday night as the makeup. Now, officially the woman is supposed to cook the steak for the guy, but I'm not a griller. Instead, we went out. He was a little worried about the price of the steaks, but I told him it just meant I'd be expecting more for my birthday in a couple months.
After dinner, we had tickets to a burlesque show at a local club. Just to show how small the world really is, the Dreamer had mentioned to me on Wednesday that he'd been wanting to see these performers. I mentioned it to the Anarchist the next day, who told me that he is friends with one of the side acts, and they were performing Saturday! I got on the phone to the Dreamer, bought tickets, and so on Saturday we found ourselves standing outside a club with a bunch of hipsters.
The show was great, but the best part was the Dreamer offering to buy my beers since I'd bought his dinner. Since it was a hipster bar, they had Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap. Yum! I'm a total lightweight, though, so the Dreamer had to be responsible enough to be able to drive home that night. At one point, though, I reached into my purse, pulled something out, and put it in his hand. He looked down at what it was, blushed furiously red, and shoved his hand in his pocket.
It was a red g-string.
I leaned over and whispered to him, “I was thinking, what could be better than a blow job? A blow job in stripper clothes!” He enthusiastically agreed.
By the time we left the club, I was drunk. Not falling down drunk, mind you, but definitely inebriated. He loaded me into the car, helped me up the stairs to his room, and started to help me sit down on the bed before I reminded him about the stripper clothes. I made him close his eyes while I quickly changed into a red and black polkadot number.
After I told him he could look, I asked, “do you like me skirt?”
“That's not a skirt!” he said, “it's a strip of material!”
In other words, he liked it.
I sat him down in his desk chair and gave him the best lapdance I could in my compromised state. Unlike a strip club, he was allowed to touch. Of course, Steak and BJ Day wouldn't be complete without the bj.
The next morning, we slept in late and decided to go to my favorite local diner for breakfast. We had the rest of the day to spend together, so we decided to go to a movie. First, the Dreamer wanted to show me the next apartment he's getting.
Like I've mentioned, he's currently living with 4 other guys in a big rowhouse. Lately, though, he's been feeling uncomfortable being a 30 year old professional without his own place. So he's moving soon into a two bedroom apartment with only one roommate. The place is gorgeous, and I couldn't help but notice that the two bedrooms aren't adjoining. Yay for not having to whisper while having sex!
We went to see the movie, then decided it was such a beautiful day, we needed to spend part of it outside. We grabbed some beer from a corner store and went to my place to hang out in the backyard. When he finally left late that night, I couldn't help but remark on how great it felt to spend almost an entire weekend with him.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Friday- Stripper Heels
Friday night the Dreamer came over for dinner. After our conversation on Wednesday when he told me that pizza was the healthiest thing he'd eaten all week, I'd offered up a standing invitation to come over whenever I make dinner. He'd originally had a date planned with another girl for Friday night, but when that fell through I got a text from him, “When's dinner?”
I love to cook. I love all different kinds of foods, especially those with “exotic” spices, so I am constantly experimenting with new recipes. This time it was a peanut sauce for stir fry over noodles. Both the Dreamer and I are peanut butter fiends, so it was the perfect choice. Unfortunately for the Dreamer, though, I cook mostly vegetarian, so my response to “when's dinner?” was “how do you feel about tofu?” Unsurprisingly, he wasn't enthused about that idea. To compromise, I made tofu for mine and gave him a chicken breast to cook for his. Relationships are all about give and take, you know!
After dinner we started watching a movie, but abandoned it about halfway through in favor of going up to my bedroom. While making out, he asked what kinds of toys I had to play with.
Music to my ears.
I'd recently invested in some stripper clothes and 6-inch heels. Now, I don't know any man who would object to his girlfriend, or any woman really, putting on stripper clothes and dancing for him. Amirite? They're not really a toy, per se, but still something fun to spice things up. So I got dressed up, wiggled around a bit, and practically purred when he looked me in the eye and said “I'm going to take you.”
Sex is hotter in stripper heels.
While we were cuddling afterwards, we started talking. I've been telling him recently how much I like him (spoiler: it's a LOT), but he hasn't really been saying that same. Being a woman, that makes me nervous. Being a rational woman, I asked him about it instead of jumping to conclusions.
“Of course I like you,” he said. “If I didn't, I wouldn't be with you.”
Good point. I'm learning that the Dreamer is just not comfortable verbalizing his feelings. Instead of hearing him say things like “I like you,” I feel it, like when he pulls me close while spooning. I'm still getting used to it, but I think it's important to remind myself that I don't have to hear him say the words for him to “really” mean it. I've encountered that problem with boyfriends in the past- it wasn't enough for them to show me, I had to hear them say it. Of course I'm not going to let him off the hook of ever saying it, but it doesn't have to be as constant as my emotions tell me it should be.
We also had another discussion about polyamory that night. I'm pretty open in talking to him about the guys I'm dating and the things we do, but I wanted to make sure that's okay with him. He said he doesn't mind hearing about it. Next I asked him if he was still okay with me dating other people.
“Yeah. I mean, as long as I'm your main one, you know.”
“You are. You're my 'primary,' my main squeeze. That's why I asked you to be my boyfriend. It doesn't mean I like you more or better than the other guys I'm dating, just that I like you different. I can imagine a future with you; it's more than just dating for 'fun'.”
“Mmm. I like that,” he told me.
It was a good way to end the night.
I love to cook. I love all different kinds of foods, especially those with “exotic” spices, so I am constantly experimenting with new recipes. This time it was a peanut sauce for stir fry over noodles. Both the Dreamer and I are peanut butter fiends, so it was the perfect choice. Unfortunately for the Dreamer, though, I cook mostly vegetarian, so my response to “when's dinner?” was “how do you feel about tofu?” Unsurprisingly, he wasn't enthused about that idea. To compromise, I made tofu for mine and gave him a chicken breast to cook for his. Relationships are all about give and take, you know!
After dinner we started watching a movie, but abandoned it about halfway through in favor of going up to my bedroom. While making out, he asked what kinds of toys I had to play with.
Music to my ears.
I'd recently invested in some stripper clothes and 6-inch heels. Now, I don't know any man who would object to his girlfriend, or any woman really, putting on stripper clothes and dancing for him. Amirite? They're not really a toy, per se, but still something fun to spice things up. So I got dressed up, wiggled around a bit, and practically purred when he looked me in the eye and said “I'm going to take you.”
Sex is hotter in stripper heels.
While we were cuddling afterwards, we started talking. I've been telling him recently how much I like him (spoiler: it's a LOT), but he hasn't really been saying that same. Being a woman, that makes me nervous. Being a rational woman, I asked him about it instead of jumping to conclusions.
“Of course I like you,” he said. “If I didn't, I wouldn't be with you.”
Good point. I'm learning that the Dreamer is just not comfortable verbalizing his feelings. Instead of hearing him say things like “I like you,” I feel it, like when he pulls me close while spooning. I'm still getting used to it, but I think it's important to remind myself that I don't have to hear him say the words for him to “really” mean it. I've encountered that problem with boyfriends in the past- it wasn't enough for them to show me, I had to hear them say it. Of course I'm not going to let him off the hook of ever saying it, but it doesn't have to be as constant as my emotions tell me it should be.
We also had another discussion about polyamory that night. I'm pretty open in talking to him about the guys I'm dating and the things we do, but I wanted to make sure that's okay with him. He said he doesn't mind hearing about it. Next I asked him if he was still okay with me dating other people.
“Yeah. I mean, as long as I'm your main one, you know.”
“You are. You're my 'primary,' my main squeeze. That's why I asked you to be my boyfriend. It doesn't mean I like you more or better than the other guys I'm dating, just that I like you different. I can imagine a future with you; it's more than just dating for 'fun'.”
“Mmm. I like that,” he told me.
It was a good way to end the night.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Wednesday- Erin Go Braugh
St. Patrick's Day has somehow become one of my favorite holidays.
The change from mediocre drinking holiday to awesome drinking holiday took a few years, but of course began when I turned 21. That isn't to say that I'd never drank before then (unless, of course, you're my mom or law enforcement), but the proper celebration of St. Pats requires at least some measure of the day's alcohol consumption to happen in a public place, preferably a bar festooned with green shamrocks.
It's scientific.
No matter how it happened, the changeover has occurred. I think it's unseated Talk Like a Pirate Day, though not Halloween or Thanksgiving. Give it time though, I'm sure.
Earlier this week, the Dreamer and I were trying to figure out when our schedules mashed up so we could go out. I hadn't seen him in a week because of my trip, and to be honest, I really missed him. The earliest possible date we could get together was Wednesday, so we ran with it before even realizing what day it was. He's been super stressed at work lately and hasn't really been up for any major activities mid-week, so I wasn't surprised or let down when he requested we keep things rather low-key. We didn't even set any definite plans except a time for me to come over to his house.
When I got there, we were debating what we wanted for dinner. I haven't had pizza in a while (what red-blooded American could make such a statement??) so we decided that sounded good. A local joint down the street with beer and live music was chosen, and off we went.
The beer was cold, the pizza was hot, and the company was great. Need I say more? It was especially fun checking out the hot chicks in the place together.
“Look at the ass on that one.”
“Damn! I'd hit that!”
“Can I watch?”
This man spoils me, let me tell you.
Later, the Dreamer told me that the pizza was probably the healthiest thing he'd eaten all week. Now, I'm not a health nut, but I am serious when it comes to my food. The last fast food I ate was actually on a date with him, when I asked him to take me to a Five Guys for the first time, and really, that's like the Cadillac of fast food. I just can't get behind it- if you can't recognize the ingredients from the dish, you're probably best not to be putting it in your body.
I cook several times a week, and since there's just one of me, I usually end up eating leftovers for days. It makes sense, then, to invite someone over to dinner, especially someone who would otherwise be eating crap. So I extended to the Dreamer an open invitation to join me for dinner whenever I cook. We both benefit (and it doesn't hurt that it means I'd likely get lucky those nights, too!)
After dinner we went back to his place to hang out. Wink wink, nudge nudge, and all that jazz. When we arrived I actually met the first of his roommates. With five men living in the house, it's surprising I'm even willing to step foot inside without a hazmat suit. Okay, they're really not that bad in most of the house, but good lord, the bathroom is a wreck. I have to go in with my blinders on and try not to touch anything that isn't necessary to do my business. I kid...but not too much.
After he'd had his way with me, we dozed off in bed. A few hours later, though, I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. I tossed and turned for a bit, before giving up and saying outloud, “I can't sleep.” Imagine my surprise when he replied, “me neither”! He wrapped me up in his arms, spooning me, and we started to talk.
I love late-night conversations. In the middle of the night, I'm much more likely to say something that I normally would hold back during the day. That isn't to say that they're things I don't mean, just stuff that I wouldn't otherwise verbalize.
We talked for a while; talking turned to teasing, and teasing turned into tickling. I'll admit, I'm extremely ticklish. I try to deny it, but it's one of those things where it's easy to determine if someone is lying. I've noticed partners love to tickle me in bed; I think it's because of the way I squirm up against them. Not just men, either- my last ex-girlfriend loved to do it. Having always been the ticklee, not the tickler, I don't know what the appeal is for them, but when it's not done in a malicious way, being tickled can be fun.
Finally, the Dreamer said the magic words- “Get over here and ride me.”
Ooof, sorry. I had to take a break there to take care of some things, if you catch my drift. God, that man knows how to turn me on; it's like someone gave him a manual to me and he studied it like a vedic scholar.
As we were cuddling again afterwards, it hit me that we've been dating for a month and a half now. And it just keeps getting better.
The change from mediocre drinking holiday to awesome drinking holiday took a few years, but of course began when I turned 21. That isn't to say that I'd never drank before then (unless, of course, you're my mom or law enforcement), but the proper celebration of St. Pats requires at least some measure of the day's alcohol consumption to happen in a public place, preferably a bar festooned with green shamrocks.
It's scientific.
No matter how it happened, the changeover has occurred. I think it's unseated Talk Like a Pirate Day, though not Halloween or Thanksgiving. Give it time though, I'm sure.
Earlier this week, the Dreamer and I were trying to figure out when our schedules mashed up so we could go out. I hadn't seen him in a week because of my trip, and to be honest, I really missed him. The earliest possible date we could get together was Wednesday, so we ran with it before even realizing what day it was. He's been super stressed at work lately and hasn't really been up for any major activities mid-week, so I wasn't surprised or let down when he requested we keep things rather low-key. We didn't even set any definite plans except a time for me to come over to his house.
When I got there, we were debating what we wanted for dinner. I haven't had pizza in a while (what red-blooded American could make such a statement??) so we decided that sounded good. A local joint down the street with beer and live music was chosen, and off we went.
The beer was cold, the pizza was hot, and the company was great. Need I say more? It was especially fun checking out the hot chicks in the place together.
“Look at the ass on that one.”
“Damn! I'd hit that!”
“Can I watch?”
This man spoils me, let me tell you.
Later, the Dreamer told me that the pizza was probably the healthiest thing he'd eaten all week. Now, I'm not a health nut, but I am serious when it comes to my food. The last fast food I ate was actually on a date with him, when I asked him to take me to a Five Guys for the first time, and really, that's like the Cadillac of fast food. I just can't get behind it- if you can't recognize the ingredients from the dish, you're probably best not to be putting it in your body.
I cook several times a week, and since there's just one of me, I usually end up eating leftovers for days. It makes sense, then, to invite someone over to dinner, especially someone who would otherwise be eating crap. So I extended to the Dreamer an open invitation to join me for dinner whenever I cook. We both benefit (and it doesn't hurt that it means I'd likely get lucky those nights, too!)
After dinner we went back to his place to hang out. Wink wink, nudge nudge, and all that jazz. When we arrived I actually met the first of his roommates. With five men living in the house, it's surprising I'm even willing to step foot inside without a hazmat suit. Okay, they're really not that bad in most of the house, but good lord, the bathroom is a wreck. I have to go in with my blinders on and try not to touch anything that isn't necessary to do my business. I kid...but not too much.
After he'd had his way with me, we dozed off in bed. A few hours later, though, I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. I tossed and turned for a bit, before giving up and saying outloud, “I can't sleep.” Imagine my surprise when he replied, “me neither”! He wrapped me up in his arms, spooning me, and we started to talk.
I love late-night conversations. In the middle of the night, I'm much more likely to say something that I normally would hold back during the day. That isn't to say that they're things I don't mean, just stuff that I wouldn't otherwise verbalize.
We talked for a while; talking turned to teasing, and teasing turned into tickling. I'll admit, I'm extremely ticklish. I try to deny it, but it's one of those things where it's easy to determine if someone is lying. I've noticed partners love to tickle me in bed; I think it's because of the way I squirm up against them. Not just men, either- my last ex-girlfriend loved to do it. Having always been the ticklee, not the tickler, I don't know what the appeal is for them, but when it's not done in a malicious way, being tickled can be fun.
Finally, the Dreamer said the magic words- “Get over here and ride me.”
Ooof, sorry. I had to take a break there to take care of some things, if you catch my drift. God, that man knows how to turn me on; it's like someone gave him a manual to me and he studied it like a vedic scholar.
As we were cuddling again afterwards, it hit me that we've been dating for a month and a half now. And it just keeps getting better.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Monday- My Turn to Buy Dinner
Last week, I finally got a paycheck that I had been waiting on for far too long. It was to the point of eating those random things left in the fridge and pantry rather than going to the grocery store. As you can probably guess, that meant I didn't have a lot of money to be spending on dates.
When I'm dating someone who has a steady job, it's always nice of them to offer to pay, and I almost always accept. Every once in a while, though, I feel the need to flex my feminist muscle and do the paying myself. So yesterday, when my check cleared and I had a comfortable cushion in my bank account again, the first thing I did was call up the Dreamer and ask him out to dinner.
We went out to dinner at a casual bar/restaurant just down the street from me. People keep recommending it to me when they find out where I live, so I had pretty high expectations. The food was good, the beer was great, but the service...well, it was rather lackluster. It was my first chance to see how the Dreamer reacted to a bad waiter- some people get really rude and catty about it, others are pushovers. He's right in between; he made a comment that he was glad I was in charge of tipping, reminded the waiter about my drink that I was waiting for, and that was all.
We were at a table in the corner, which made it easier for us to talk. As easy as it can be in a bar restaurant, at least. In other words, we were able to hear each other without shouting. That was good, since I'm sure if people heard our conversation, they'd be really confused. The Dreamer had something important to tell me, and he was really nervous about it.
His news? That he has a date with another girl this week. His nervousness was palpable; fidgeting, not looking me in the eye. It was clear he was unsure how I'd react.
I think my response really surprised him. I said, “great!”
“Really?”
“Of course! Why would that bother me?”
“Well, this is just not at all what I'm used to.”
Of course, that's perfectly understandable. Our society teaches us to be jealous and reproachful of others as they interact with our significant others. To me, though, my boyfriend dating another person doesn't mean he likes me any less. I date other people, but I don't like him any less. My only request was that he let me know if he's dating someone, but he's welcome to give me as much or as little detail beyond that as he is comfortable with.
We also discussed PDA. I'm a big fan of mild PDA- hugging, kissing, handholding; not so much making out and grinding on each other. As such, I'm a very touchy-feely person. If I'm talking to you, chances are I'll reach out and touch your arm. If I'm dating you, I'll almost certainly kiss your cheek or take your hand fairly often. The Dreamer, as he explained, is used to women doing that as a way to mark their territory. I'd never thought of it that way, but it makes sense- it's a nonverbal way of saying “back off ladies, he's mine.” That isn't at all my intent, though. I just do it because I like the person I'm with.
We also had a talk about sex toys. I LOVE toys. Not every time, of course, but I think they're a lot of fun. Too many guys are intimidated by the idea of women using a toy in bed; they internalize it as a critique on their sexual ability. That isn't the case, though! When used by partners, they're a great way to enhance the experience for both people. I think the key is to talk about them openly, and find something that both people are comfortable with and enjoy. By getting rid of the taboo and addressing any fears of inadequacy, I think a lot more guys would be open to them.
So, last night was fun. I slept hard, though- I didn't even wake up when the Dreamer got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. That tells me that I'm getting comfortable sleeping with him, which is a really good feeling. Of course it sucked when I had to get up at 5 this morning to get some work done before class while he slept in for another hour. He's so cute when he's sleeping, though, I can't complain too much.
I'm going to the west coast this weekend to present at a conference, so it's going to be a sparse weekend for dating.
When I'm dating someone who has a steady job, it's always nice of them to offer to pay, and I almost always accept. Every once in a while, though, I feel the need to flex my feminist muscle and do the paying myself. So yesterday, when my check cleared and I had a comfortable cushion in my bank account again, the first thing I did was call up the Dreamer and ask him out to dinner.
We went out to dinner at a casual bar/restaurant just down the street from me. People keep recommending it to me when they find out where I live, so I had pretty high expectations. The food was good, the beer was great, but the service...well, it was rather lackluster. It was my first chance to see how the Dreamer reacted to a bad waiter- some people get really rude and catty about it, others are pushovers. He's right in between; he made a comment that he was glad I was in charge of tipping, reminded the waiter about my drink that I was waiting for, and that was all.
We were at a table in the corner, which made it easier for us to talk. As easy as it can be in a bar restaurant, at least. In other words, we were able to hear each other without shouting. That was good, since I'm sure if people heard our conversation, they'd be really confused. The Dreamer had something important to tell me, and he was really nervous about it.
His news? That he has a date with another girl this week. His nervousness was palpable; fidgeting, not looking me in the eye. It was clear he was unsure how I'd react.
I think my response really surprised him. I said, “great!”
“Really?”
“Of course! Why would that bother me?”
“Well, this is just not at all what I'm used to.”
Of course, that's perfectly understandable. Our society teaches us to be jealous and reproachful of others as they interact with our significant others. To me, though, my boyfriend dating another person doesn't mean he likes me any less. I date other people, but I don't like him any less. My only request was that he let me know if he's dating someone, but he's welcome to give me as much or as little detail beyond that as he is comfortable with.
We also discussed PDA. I'm a big fan of mild PDA- hugging, kissing, handholding; not so much making out and grinding on each other. As such, I'm a very touchy-feely person. If I'm talking to you, chances are I'll reach out and touch your arm. If I'm dating you, I'll almost certainly kiss your cheek or take your hand fairly often. The Dreamer, as he explained, is used to women doing that as a way to mark their territory. I'd never thought of it that way, but it makes sense- it's a nonverbal way of saying “back off ladies, he's mine.” That isn't at all my intent, though. I just do it because I like the person I'm with.
We also had a talk about sex toys. I LOVE toys. Not every time, of course, but I think they're a lot of fun. Too many guys are intimidated by the idea of women using a toy in bed; they internalize it as a critique on their sexual ability. That isn't the case, though! When used by partners, they're a great way to enhance the experience for both people. I think the key is to talk about them openly, and find something that both people are comfortable with and enjoy. By getting rid of the taboo and addressing any fears of inadequacy, I think a lot more guys would be open to them.
So, last night was fun. I slept hard, though- I didn't even wake up when the Dreamer got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. That tells me that I'm getting comfortable sleeping with him, which is a really good feeling. Of course it sucked when I had to get up at 5 this morning to get some work done before class while he slept in for another hour. He's so cute when he's sleeping, though, I can't complain too much.
I'm going to the west coast this weekend to present at a conference, so it's going to be a sparse weekend for dating.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Friday, Part 2- A night in with the boyfriend
Last night, the Dreamer came over. Last weekend we decided to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, which I was (of course) very excited about. He's 30, a property manager and small business owner. He's got big dreams- bigger than any guy I've ever dated. For starters, he wants to make his first million by the time he's 40 and let me tell you, if anyone could do it, it'd be him. For now, though, he shares a house with four other guys and is really unhappy about that. I think he feels like he should have his own place by now. It truly doesn't bother me, though- I date the entire economic spectrum.
Last night, I invited him over at the last minute for dinner. Just leftovers that I had frozen, nothing exciting, but he came over anyway. He's been sick for the past few days, so he was kind of loopy on cough medicine, which was pretty hilarious. One Wednesday he had texted me when I was in my night class to see if I wanted to come keep his sick self company, so I spent the night there. Let me tell you, 5 bachelors living in a house is not a pretty sight! I tried to have tunnel vision when I went to use the bathroom, but I still saw things I didn't want to see. Is it any surprise I declined his offer of a shower the next morning? Wednesday night was weird for me, though- it was our first date since deciding to use the “official” labels and, to be frank, we went to bed without having sex. How much more domestic can you get?? I liked it, though- we'd stayed up late talking, and got to just fall asleep next to each other.
But back to last night. My phone has been having issues with text messages, so while I got his response that he was coming for dinner, I didn't get the one where he said he was on his way. When he got here, I was still hanging out in my bathrobe, watching 16 and Pregnant on MTV. Such a great impression! I think he was high enough on the cough syrup to not care...or maybe he just didn't care because he likes me. Either way works. The problem was, though, I'd promised to go out and get mixers for the whiskey I have since he doesn't drink it neat like I do (wimp). As you can probably tell by the fact I was still in my bathrobe, I hadn't gone to the store yet. So I gave him the option of coming with me, or staying while I ran down the street to get some soda. He chose to stay. Again, how much more domestic can you get? Going over to your girlfriend's house and watching The Simpsons while she runs down to the store. It works, though; I don't feel uncomfortable with it. I haven't felt this way with someone new in a long time.
After I got back, we had drinks and ate dinner. I made him try the Indian snacks I'd bought, but since his nose was stuffed up, he said he couldn't really taste them. If he couldn't taste that, he obviously couldn't taste my food...but maybe that's a good thing. I have to keep him thinking I'm a good cook until after I've sucked him in. (I kid, of course. I made him dinner last week- he's already been fooled.) Then we decided to watch a movie. My roommates and I don't have a DVD player in the living room, and my laptop sucks for watching movies on (it's small and the speakers aren't very good- it works for one person with headphones, but not so much for two people) so I brought down my Xbox 360 from my room and hooked it up to the TV. That's right, I did it all by myself! I'm a feminist, after all; I know how to handle my own electronics. Then we watched Donnie Darko, a good movie, though not one of my favorites. The Dreamer made it all the way to the last 5 minutes of the movie before falling asleep, it was super adorable. So I dragged him up to bed...let's just say we didn't have a repeat of Wednesday night. Wink wink.
Okay, if you don't want details of my sex life, stop here. Seriously. This is your last warning. All the prudes leave? Good.
The Dreamer isn't the biggest guy I've been with, but he definitely knows how to use what he's got. The best part is that, while he doesn't last for hours (which quite frankly can get annoying at times), he's really good about making sure I'm taken care of before he finishes. I think there was a book written fairly recently, Woman Comes First, I believe it was called, that is all about this. Maybe he read it, I don't know, but the point is, this woman comes first. Last night was also our first foray together into my kink...I like to be submissive in bed. I can't do it with everybody, though- I have to feel comfortable and trusting of the person I'm with. But the Dreamer makes me feel safe, so I told him about it. And boy was it fun! A little bit of spanking and hair pulling, but more importantly, him being in charge. As he pointed out to me later, I'm so much in control in my everyday life, being able to give up that control is incredibly appealing.
My favorite part was when we were done, and he wrapped me up in his arms while he spooned me. There's something about the way his body feels next to mine that takes my breath away. Unfortunately he had a meeting at 7:30 this morning (on a Saturday!) so he set his alarm for 5:45 am. Ugh. I barely managed to wake up enough to put on a robe and see him out. I think I need to convince him to bring over a change of clothes and a toothbrush so next time he has to get up way too early for work, at least he doesn't have to go home and change first.
So that was my Friday. Another date tonight, though, so more to come!
Last night, I invited him over at the last minute for dinner. Just leftovers that I had frozen, nothing exciting, but he came over anyway. He's been sick for the past few days, so he was kind of loopy on cough medicine, which was pretty hilarious. One Wednesday he had texted me when I was in my night class to see if I wanted to come keep his sick self company, so I spent the night there. Let me tell you, 5 bachelors living in a house is not a pretty sight! I tried to have tunnel vision when I went to use the bathroom, but I still saw things I didn't want to see. Is it any surprise I declined his offer of a shower the next morning? Wednesday night was weird for me, though- it was our first date since deciding to use the “official” labels and, to be frank, we went to bed without having sex. How much more domestic can you get?? I liked it, though- we'd stayed up late talking, and got to just fall asleep next to each other.
But back to last night. My phone has been having issues with text messages, so while I got his response that he was coming for dinner, I didn't get the one where he said he was on his way. When he got here, I was still hanging out in my bathrobe, watching 16 and Pregnant on MTV. Such a great impression! I think he was high enough on the cough syrup to not care...or maybe he just didn't care because he likes me. Either way works. The problem was, though, I'd promised to go out and get mixers for the whiskey I have since he doesn't drink it neat like I do (wimp). As you can probably tell by the fact I was still in my bathrobe, I hadn't gone to the store yet. So I gave him the option of coming with me, or staying while I ran down the street to get some soda. He chose to stay. Again, how much more domestic can you get? Going over to your girlfriend's house and watching The Simpsons while she runs down to the store. It works, though; I don't feel uncomfortable with it. I haven't felt this way with someone new in a long time.
After I got back, we had drinks and ate dinner. I made him try the Indian snacks I'd bought, but since his nose was stuffed up, he said he couldn't really taste them. If he couldn't taste that, he obviously couldn't taste my food...but maybe that's a good thing. I have to keep him thinking I'm a good cook until after I've sucked him in. (I kid, of course. I made him dinner last week- he's already been fooled.) Then we decided to watch a movie. My roommates and I don't have a DVD player in the living room, and my laptop sucks for watching movies on (it's small and the speakers aren't very good- it works for one person with headphones, but not so much for two people) so I brought down my Xbox 360 from my room and hooked it up to the TV. That's right, I did it all by myself! I'm a feminist, after all; I know how to handle my own electronics. Then we watched Donnie Darko, a good movie, though not one of my favorites. The Dreamer made it all the way to the last 5 minutes of the movie before falling asleep, it was super adorable. So I dragged him up to bed...let's just say we didn't have a repeat of Wednesday night. Wink wink.
Okay, if you don't want details of my sex life, stop here. Seriously. This is your last warning. All the prudes leave? Good.
The Dreamer isn't the biggest guy I've been with, but he definitely knows how to use what he's got. The best part is that, while he doesn't last for hours (which quite frankly can get annoying at times), he's really good about making sure I'm taken care of before he finishes. I think there was a book written fairly recently, Woman Comes First, I believe it was called, that is all about this. Maybe he read it, I don't know, but the point is, this woman comes first. Last night was also our first foray together into my kink...I like to be submissive in bed. I can't do it with everybody, though- I have to feel comfortable and trusting of the person I'm with. But the Dreamer makes me feel safe, so I told him about it. And boy was it fun! A little bit of spanking and hair pulling, but more importantly, him being in charge. As he pointed out to me later, I'm so much in control in my everyday life, being able to give up that control is incredibly appealing.
My favorite part was when we were done, and he wrapped me up in his arms while he spooned me. There's something about the way his body feels next to mine that takes my breath away. Unfortunately he had a meeting at 7:30 this morning (on a Saturday!) so he set his alarm for 5:45 am. Ugh. I barely managed to wake up enough to put on a robe and see him out. I think I need to convince him to bring over a change of clothes and a toothbrush so next time he has to get up way too early for work, at least he doesn't have to go home and change first.
So that was my Friday. Another date tonight, though, so more to come!
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