Datehazard’s Blog

On dating, singleness and adjusting to being 30ish.

Fear and confusion March 24, 2009

Filed under: Dating,frustration,Loneliness,Singleness — datehazard @ 7:21 am
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Sometimes everything comes from all quarters, and it’s all unwanted.

I’m not sure what happened, but I’m in a dating lull at the moment. What seemed at one point promising with The Analyst evaporated, like so much ethanol on warm skin. He was supposed to come over to my neighbourhood last weekend, but he never showed up, and he didn’t reply to my text. I know it’s not because he’s suddenly dead or something catastrophic happened to him; I saw his log on details on the dating website where we’d met. I thought things had gone really well. I guess he got cold feet. Or perhaps my hunch that he’d just broken up with someone was right — and that the other person had come back in his life again. At the least, I thought he’d have given me some indication of a reason for the abrupt shift.

Meanwhile the only real option seems to be the insatiable Author, who is both too old for me and too voracious. It’s a combination I find tedious and terribly dull. He wants me to sleep with a woman, in his presence. It’s a male desire so typical and so banal that I don’t even find the challenge of finding a suitable woman or the novelty of an orgy worth pursuing.

Instead, I wish he would invite me to the events he tends to go to — professional award ceremonies which would kill lesser mortals, but which always make me incredibly fascinated. I told him I was always up for that type of event, but received no invitation, only a request for acclamation and praise. Like I said. Dull.

There’s another singles event I’ll be going to this Thursday. It’s organized by the same group and it’s a similar event to the one where I met The Charmer. I don’t have high hopes for this one. Expecting to meet someone with instant chemistry again is, I think, like asking to be struck by lightning twice.

And that’s another disappointment. The Charmer promised he’d call after his trip — a week has gone by, with no word from him. I don’t know why I even waited, I think this was his way of letting me down easy. I guess I was just hoping.

 

He Plays a Good Game. And I had a good time. March 19, 2009

Filed under: Comedy,Dating,seduction — datehazard @ 10:41 am
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I met The Author last night, at a rather swanky, old-fashioned cigar lounge where the female servers wear red cocktail dresses and you have to be buzzed in.

I was quite the sight when I arrived to meet with The Author; our age difference was perhaps the most pronounced aspect of the two of us. The two German men sitting two tables away kept staring at me and my companion. I sipped on my gin and tonic, flirted with The Author, and he sipped on his delicious, smooth Bourbon. He invited me to join him with the same libation, but I declined, to which he teased, “But G+T is such a summer drink; why would you drink it now?” I replied, “Because to me, it is summer, always, most especially when it is not.”

I knew he would find that charming. And he smiled and sipped while I smiled and held his gaze.

Flirting is such fun.

We talked about all kinds of things, he making statements, me listening, for the most part, then intervening with quips initially, then with interruptions. I would let him talk, seemingly passive, and alternate between being indulgent and complimentary, to being challenging, or skeptical. All along, he noticed, and appreciated my interventions. It felt like a dance of sorts. A fencing duel would probably be not a bad metaphor for the kind of back-and-forth repartee.

There are few things more attractive than intelligence. And few things more exhilarating than alternating between boredom and stimulation so unexpected that you’re left wordless.

We went back to his apartment, I admired his paintings, and we sipped champagne. I became incredibly drunk and realised I’d have to leave. We said our goodbyes and he put me in a cab, paying my cab fare. There is a lot to be said for the niceties of life.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in New York; it looks like I might not be able to teach here next semester. There was a problem with making up an additional course that I need. If I don’t get to teach two course sections, I will have to return. That’s a shame, since I’ve only just started really enjoying myself here.

New York is a tough place, there’s no doubt about it. And I think The Author is right when he advocates a “just don’t take it seriously” approach.

 

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.

 

Birthday week is the busiest week March 2, 2009

Filed under: Desire,frustration,Singleness — datehazard @ 10:54 pm
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It’s my birthday this week. I turn 35.

If I could catch a breath to think about that, I might feel a little sad; mainly because my life isn’t where I’d imagined it would be at this point. And it would be nice to be able to catch my breath.

But it is a really crazy week. Work-related functions have just sky-rocketed and I have 6 major functions to attend in a space of 4 days. Each function will take about 3-4 hours of my time. Some of the functions will require much more time than that. And they are all on consecutive days, and require that I have my people skills in place as I will be dealing with a lot of different types of people. And somewhere in there the Corporate Lawyer wants to see me and (pardon my French) fuck my brains out. Trust me, I am long overdue for a good session. But I just don’t have the time this week.

I know he’ll be disappointed. He’d been trying to make plans to spend a night together for a few weeks now. But it’s either I drop these events (which happen once a year), or I drop my plans with him. They are not compatible.

Again, this schedule is not what I’d envisioned for a relaxing birthday week. My initial plan was to take an extended long weekend and go somewhere cheap and warm, like Florida, or wherever I could find a cheap travel deal. Instead, I’m going to be working my butt off, and having to shift gears several times this week, between teaching, then networking, then mingling, and politicking.

Attending all of these events means that I don’t even have the space to think about turning 35. It’s a great way to stay focussed, and I’m really glad I love what I do.

But clearly, once again, work wins.

When am I going to learn how to prioritize my social life?

 

Meeting the friends & family March 1, 2009

Filed under: Adjusting,Dating — datehazard @ 11:38 pm
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Last night, I met up with the Corporate Lawyer, his sister, his visiting lawyer friend, and her two married friends (another corporate lawyer, and an architect).

We had dinner at a delicious restaurant, and I got very drunk while we were waiting for our table. It took a while for them to get our table ready, eventhough we had a reservation, and Corporate Lawyer and myself were the first people to arrive. The drink I had at the bar, on an empty stomach, went right to my head. Fortunately, the drunkenness really came into full force during the serving of the main course, and no one seemed to notice.

Meanwhile, Corporate Lawyer had been particularly agitated that day, and told me that he was really worried that he was going to get the axe at work. He’d read one of his partner’s actions as a sign that his performance was not considered up to snuff. It didn’t sound that way to me, but I’m not sure if there was more information he was withholding, and didn’t press for details. He was miserable enough as it was. At one point, he said to me, “well, DH, I guess you’re going to be the only breadwinner soon.”

I laughed at him and gave him a hug to cheer him up.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re still not dating exclusively, and I still get the “I’m not sure I’m that into you” vibe from him, but he’s starting to open up a little more to me. Which is, frankly, neither a good nor a bad thing.

Call me opportunistic or just plain lazy — or most likely both — but I just don’t really care about this relationship. He has a lot on his plate, as do I, and I’m perfectly happy to coast for now. Especially after the drama of The Charmer. It’s nice to hang out (and occasionally make out) with someone who’s pretty undemanding, pleasant company, and pretty straightforward. I keep thinking that we should be having a serious conversation about Where This Is Going, but last time I checked (about a week ago), he was totally uncomfortable with anything serious, and told me that he was happy with how things were. Which I clarified as that we’re dating other people. The only thing I asked for was that he would tell me if/when he slept with someone else, for my own health’s sake. We’re both cautious and safe people, but I’d rather minimize my risk whenever possible.

So, I guess there’s nothing to worry about?

I’m not looking to date anyone else right now. Should I be? Should I hedge my bets?

This is starting to feel like work…

 

Walking away from The Charmer February 23, 2009

So, I wrote an e-mail to The Charmer this morning, saying that I was walking away.

It came out of my realisation last night that we are just looking for two different things. He wants someone who can be as morally free as him, and who can let him indulge in whatever sexual pecadilloes he chooses, and it was making me sad. I cried as I fell asleep last night, in the realisation that I couldn’t be with this man in the way I’d like. It was a mixture of exhaustion, self-pity, self-loathing and acceptance.

I told him that, strange as it may sound, he was one of the few people in my life I’ve ever met who I was immediately and strongly attracted to; the kind of person who I just cannot get enough of. It’s been many years since I’ve felt this way; in fact, other than when I was a teenager, I don’t remember the last time I felt like this.

If nothing else, that sense that my heart has awakened, and reminded me of how strongly it can feel, is an amazing thing. I’ve spent the last year in a haze, unfocussed and numb. I never thought I could feel this strongly again.

And now it’s over.

And life goes on.

 

The Goodbye February 19, 2009

Filed under: breakups,Dating,Desire,Drama — datehazard @ 2:09 pm
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How do you say goodbye to someone who seemed like they were going to be much, much more than a fling?

You don’t.

You wish them well.

And that’s just what I had to do with The Charmer. He hadn’t returned my phone call or my text message, and so I finally sent him an e-mail. I explained that I didn’t know why he was having this response, but that I’d hoped it wasn’t because I’d annoyed him in some way. And that I hoped he would have a good trip and managed to have some downtime.

I also wrote that I didn’t want to date him when he returned; that I thought it would be better if he wanted to get to know me, and to know me on my own terms, because I have a lot more information on him than he does on me. He really doesn’t know me at all. Which explained his hesitation and surprise at my behaviour on a few occasions, including in bed. I think my availability surprised him. His anxious questions about whether I was dating anyone else seemed from a place of formless fear: the kind of fear that isn’t based on anything except itself.

So I left the door open.

But I don’t think he’ll be coming back.

This one’s in the “fling” category, folks. Much to my disappointment.

[Edit: He texted me back after I’d e-mailed saying that he’d been crazy busy, but that everything was ok and he’d call me after he arrived at his holiday destination tomorrow. It doesn’t really change anything, though. I didn’t text back and I’m happy to move on with my life. We’ll see what happens when he gets back.]