Datehazard’s Blog

On dating, singleness and adjusting to being 30ish.

Possibilities March 16, 2009

I spent the night at the Analyst’s apartment on Saturday. He lives all the way out in Brooklyn; it took almost two hours on the weekend trains to get to him. That was not fun.

I like his neighbourhood, though. It’s a quiet, family-oriented one, and it’s close to the sea. It was lovely to stand at a pier near his apartment, watch the waves and feel the strong cold breeze from the ocean. That alone made up for the 2 hour epic journey to get there.

I really like him. He makes me laugh. I make him laugh, too. I’m constantly making fun of him — which is an easy thing to do. He’s quite naive in some ways; he assumes that I don’t know very much (like when I deliberately horribly mangled the pronunciation of “rendezvous” to be “Ren-des-vohs”), and I play along, drawing out the “Please educate me” experience to its absurd extreme, until he notices that I’m smiling, or he has a “wait, this can’t possibly be true” skepticism. And then I start laughing, and he laughs too.

I suppose it isn’t the kindest way to joke with someone; I’d always be a little guarded around someone who I knew was going to make fun of me, or find an opportunity to joke at my expense. I have told him on a few occasions that he should tell me if he ever gets tired of me being silly in this way, and he laughs and says, “no, it’s fine.” I have a feeling he means it. I spoke with my friend Kind Ninja and she remarked that he probably appreciates being around intelligent people who can challenge him.

After we walked around the neighbourhood, ate at a local restaurant and had a drink at his neighbourhood bar, we went back to his apartment. His apartment is cluttered and messy, with books in various spots, and the strange sight of two shedding feather pillows on his living room floor. He explained that he left them there from when friends would come over and he needed extra seating. It seemed an odd explanation, but I didn’t pry.

I would go into some of the details of our intimacy, but a sense of privacy and tenderness prevents me from disclosing too much. I will say that he enjoys playing as much as I do, and doesn’t shy away from a challenge. He seems to understand as well as I, how provocation quickens the pulse, and heightens desire. He pinned my arms behind my back at one point when I was getting the better of him in a tickling match, and I found myself suddenly not struggling and not laughing. Instead, my body reached for his, and we kissed with hungry mouths.

He has a lovely, long body, smooth, soft skin, and hair in all the warm places: over his heart, his groin, a soft covering over his firm rounded bottom. I’ve never been a fan of hairless men. And frankly, I think shaving is overrated, and waxing as something that should be reserved for practices of torture.

The night ended in a tangle of limbs and blankets. We slipped from exhaustion into a broken sleep. I kept waking up to get water, go to the bathroom, or to simply lie, disoriented, checking the time and gazing crookedly at his poorly hung blue curtains. I would wonder where I was, recall, listen to his surprisingly rapid breaths, and drift off into a fitful slumber.

The night before, we had talked about the sea, and the waves. I told him about the time I lived in a little house by the sea, how the fierce wind would scare me when I first moved there, and how I would hear pine cones drop on my roof at night. And how these initial anxieties eventually became sources of wordless joy, reminding me simultaneously of both qualities of my frail existence.

I don’t think I’d ever felt more alive. And I had almost forgotten the experience. As the years went by and I moved away, it had become buried under all of the pragmatic toughness and hardness one needs to deal with the hustle and bustle of big city living. That little house by the sea seemed almost to exist in another lifetime. It was good to be reminded of it.

He’d listened with shining eyes and a faint smile of understanding while I talked; he also loves the sea. He told me about growing up amongst olive trees and harvesting ripe olives by hand. He talked about the back-breaking labour involved, but I could see his nostalgia in his eyes. He seemed far away, existing for a moment in the bright sun, the aroma of ripening olives rising around him.

Something about this man makes me both so incredibly happy, and so grounded at the same time. I am able to breathe deeply and slowly in his presence, and my worries evaporate.

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On the benefits of getting enough sleep February 24, 2009

Last night, I went out with my roommate and his friend The Actor, to watch some improv comedy.

It was freezing cold and a fierce wind was whipping through New York. We were all hatless in our “it’s hip to be cold” way, all clenching our teeth and gripping the edges of our coats in a futile effort to stay warm.

We ate cheap, hot, fresh tortillas; The Actor gobbled his down in two bites or less, and I clutched them in my hands and drew out the eating experience for as long as the tortilla maintained its heat. Lovely, cheap impromptu hand-warmers! We hopped anxiously from one foot to the other while we waited in line. We told each other silly jokes in an attempt to distract ourselves from the stinging cold, and to generally celebrate each other’s company.

Then we were inside, and the show began. And we laughed at the distracted actor, the botched lines, the awkward moments. We laughed at the high points, the moments when the timing was just right. We doubled over, shaking silently, wiping the tears from our eyes, when our favourite actor ruthlessly exploited a line or staged a perfect moment.

Then we went home. And I slept, without interruption, for the first time in weeks.

 

Friends in need February 21, 2009

Last night my friend The Artist got really drunk. So drunk she ended up being taken care of by my other friend The Grad Student. We had all been at the networking event, and we’d gone out to a bar afterwards (where I met up with The Corporate Lawyer).

While the Corporate Lawyer and I left to get a bite to eat, my friends stayed at the bar, chatting happily. This morning the Grad Student called and gave me the scoop. Apparently The Artist had been so drunk that she’d been unable to walk without assistance when they left the bar. As he told it, since she was way too drunk to make it back to her house, he took her to his home and put her to bed. She proceeded to vomit all over the subway car in the ride back to his apartment. And then into a bucket he’d thoughtfully placed by her head, all night. And into the morning. Poor woman!

The Artist is still really hung up about her ex, the Man-Child. The Grad Student told me about their conversation in the morning, where The Artist went on at length about how poorly her ex had treated her, and how she thought he had been too premature in his decision to end the relationship. She’s still in Step 1 of the breakup, of course. It was only about 2 weeks ago that they’d broken up.

I was glad that my two friends, and now two new friends to each other, could look out for each other and take care of each other when they needed help.

 

What to do when you’re lonely February 15, 2009

Filed under: Adjusting,Desire,frustration,Singleness — datehazard @ 10:48 pm
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One thing I’ve found that works really well is to do some work. Work that is intellectually stimulating but also possibly brings you into contact with other people. This evening, after feeling blue all day, I met up with a group of fellow writers for our regular get-together. We discussed the assigned writing for the week, went through what worked, what needed help, and ate some lovely snacks.

It was exactly the kind of push I needed to stop wallowing and fixating on my upcoming conversation with the Charmer. He is out on a date, and offered to call me at the end of his evening. I suspect that would be some time early next morning, if at all. Why do guys make offers that they have no intention of keeping? He’d also let me know that last night he’d escorted his “colleague” (his quotations) to a work-related get together, and ended up sleeping at her place as a result of “too much wine.” Right. I’m sure the wine played a very small role in the reason why he slept over.

I want to talk to him to tell him that I’m not interested in having a casual relationship with him. But at the same time, I’m really wondering whether that’s a good decision. I remember how attracted I was to him, and it confuses me. When my feelings override my reason, I always become confused. And probably spend too much time thinking about what I should do next, instead of making a prudent decision.

In any case, the point is moot, since he hasn’t called, and I’m starting to feel more inclined to giving Corporate Lawyer a chance. We’ll see. At this point it’s too difficult to make a decision one way or another. Meanwhile, I’m looking forward to starting my next writing assignment. I offered to submit my work for the next meeting, in a genre I haven’t practiced in over 10 years. It’s an excuse to practice that form, and I could use the challenge. And the excuse to shift my focus from something I have little control over.

 

Oh and no Sunday outing

Filed under: Dating,Singleness — datehazard @ 12:20 am
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I decided not to bother going on the Sunday outing I’d been looking forward to. I really don’t need to add more possible dating partners to my roster right now, and frankly, I’m exhausted. All of this focus on emotions is also seriously starting to get boring.

Between me trying to figure out what my dating partners are doing and trying to be supportive to my newly single friends, I don’t have much space for daydreaming, brainstorming, or planning anything else that generally keeps me happy. So. Back to my shell. And back to the comfort of work.

 

Mornings are hard. So are evenings. February 9, 2009

Filed under: Adjusting,Dating,Loneliness,Singleness — datehazard @ 1:16 pm
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It’s not as if being single is unrelenting misery. In fact, most of the time my state of dating, or not, is just there. I’m working, it creeps into my thoughts, work supercedes it, random thoughts come back, etc. Mainly other impulses: hunger, a deadline, bills, roommate annoyances, some hilarious thread, keeps me amused and occupied.

Lately these forums have been making me laugh. A lot. Especially this one.

But this morning the sense of loneliness was particularly hard. Who knows why? It probably has to do with hormones, the fact that Valentine’s Day is this week, the fullness of the moon, the fact that peas are usually mushy…

I asked a good friend who’s also single if he ever gets really lonely, and what he does, too. He told me he tries not to think about it, and concentrates on work. I had my morning coffee, went about my stuff, and checked my e-mail. A female friend had e-mailed me saying that her burgeoning relationship with someone she really liked is now over. They had a talk, and decided they were both looking for different things: he wants to party it up, and she wants something more serious. Sigh.

I know this will sound like schadenfreude — it probably is — but a part of me was a little glad that my lonely circle of 1 had now expanded to include another single woman in the same town. With whom I could also do non-couple-y things with. And bitch about being single. And mostly, to realise there are also up-sides to being single. Like not having to risk the pain of a breakup. Ouch.