JimmyDean

I check my phone as I walk out to my car and see that my dad texted and called. He worries about me and doesn't like that his baby girl is up in the pacific northwest with no family support; dysfunctional as it is. I know he misses me too. I think it's sweet. He wants to know what "The Plan" is for moving back and what can he do to help. Unfortunately, I can barely plan out a week in advance because things keep changing on me; which is disconcerting. I call him back and fill him in on what I know and tell him I just have to do the best I can, I'm fine and he doesn't have to worry. Ideally, he would like me to move in with him and his girlfriend which is such a nice gesture, truly, but I can't see myself living with my dad ever again. I'd have to be pretty destitute and I'm not there yet. I mean, I know I'll be homeless and jobless in about 30 days, but I'm not terribly concerned about it and it's not like it's never happened before. If anything this whole year has validated what I already knew about myself. I'm incredibly resilient. When the zombies come, you want me on your team.

While I'm on a long call with my dad JimmyDean texts me to confirm. I wince as I quickly read the beginning of the text on my phone before it disappears off the screen. I honestly don't think I'm up for another date. I'm tired. I need a nap. Some food. Ugh...But I don't cancel because...I'm a fucking moron! I haven't met JD yet and he's been patiently waiting for me to find time for him so we can go out for a drink. He has pretty eyes too. They're a clear blue. I'm such a sucker for nice eyes. 

What I think is sad is he hasn't asked my name yet. It used to piss me off like...how dare you not think enough of me to want to know what my name is! I'm a real person with real feelings blah blah blah ~monster attack arms~. I've moved passed that I guess. I suppose it's not important and decide not to offer it. Sometimes guys think my name really is Sirene. My name in their phone is Sirene. Wow...ok. I remember BrentTen remarking that he liked the name. 

'Really??? It's just a different way of spelling and pronouncing Siren. You know...those creatures that lure sailors to their deaths. They probably fuck them and eat them too. Mermaids are ruthless and sailors are tasty.' 

Ewwwwww. That's twisted. 

'Admit it. You dig it. You like my darkness AND my glitter.' 

No disputing that statement. 

He enjoyed hearing about my fascination with the murky depths of the sea, being caught up in riptides when I was a wee thing swimming alone in the pacific and not being afraid, the thrill of swimming in Hilo with hundreds of sharks 20 feet below me and staring jawdropped as a child, nose pressed to the glass, at the pearl divers at Sea World. He poked fun at my phobia about crustaceans, dislike for seafood and that I hold my breath and turn away when I have to walk by the seafood counter at the grocery store, but his analytical mind kicked in and he thought maybe it's not a phobia. Maybe I just don't like to see or be near dead sealife. 'You don't have a problem with them being alive right? Swimming around in the ocean or in a tank?' I shook my head no. 'Could be you have an extreme reaction to seeing all your seafriends dead, chopped up and served on a platter to filthy humans. How very hippy of you.' Well I'll be damned. Way to turn that on it's head. He might be right! ~pouts~ Still butthurt about him. BrentTen was my marathon man. He could go for hours and hours and he was brilliant. Mensa brilliant and then it just ended. He was done with me. I realize I'm going to intermittently talk about him because I'm still bummed out and although he's reached out to me I know it can't go back to the way it was so why bother? He blindsided me. Being fickle now doesn't change the fact that I don't trust him anymore. 

If there's no traffic I'll make it back to the house in time to have a catnap. Within the next two hours he pushes the time out twice. He's a wedding photographer (which reminds me of BrentTen too ~sadface~) and a perspective client is being flaky. Perfect! I say...I can eat AND have a nap. 

There was virtually no traffic on the way home so I happily get home, drop all my stuff on the floor, peel off all my clothes, examine all my marks (finger marks on the inside of my arms and kneecap marks on the inside of my thighs. Niiiiice. Almost as good as Derby...almost.), set my alarm for 6pm and climb into bed. Two more texts from Phuket. ~sighs~ I respond, but give no promises of a repeat performance and toss my phone in to the laundry basket across the room so I can't hear it vibrate. My body aches. I didn't fight MacGeyser much, but being held down that long took everything out of me. As I drift off to sleep I decide if I do go out I'm just going to have a drink and not fuck him. 

The alarm goes off and I pop up feeling groggy. I really need more sleep...and food. GAH at my tummy rumbles. I have nothing in my mini fridge, but booze and condiments. Seriously...I'm such a cliche sometimes. I stumble over to my laundry basket and dig around my dirty laundry for my phone to turn off the alarm and see that JD texted the address to a bar, then updates with another address to a different bar and finally a hello? I respond that I'll be out the door in 20 minutes and will be there by 7pm. I throw my clothes back on, drink some water to kill the hangry belly, try to do something with my hair, apply a little makeup and head out. 

He picked a place at a half way point between his town and mine which I thought was nice. I pull in and it's a total dive. I'd never even heard of this place. I hope I don't have to pee because ew. I try to sneak in through the back door, but he was sitting at the last booth as if he knew and was expecting me to come in that way. I smile-caught out. No scanning of the place or element of surprise for me. I notice his piercing Newman Blues right away. ~melts~ He gets up (he's shorter than he had said on his profile so I'm taller than him with my heels on. I'm just going to say here-boys shouldn't lie on their profile and say they are 6 feet tall when they are 5'10 at best because it will determine my shoe selection for the date), approaches me and kisses me. OMG super shamu. C'MON!! Why do men kiss this way??? It's AWFUL. I push him away. Ok, ok, you're happy to see me. He smells like weed, but not MacGeyser weed. Plain ole skunky weed. Have men given up on deodorant completely?

He motions for me to have a seat in the booth and he sits across me and starts talking nervously. This is always a good sign. Nervous is good. I wriggle out of my coat, unwrap my scarf and pull my sweater off as I take a quick look around. Divey yes, but clean, well lit and not too full of people. I respond slowly as I smooth my hair down asking him about his photography work and if he had any kids. Trying to focus, but this booth is lumpy and I absentmindedly start bouncing which makes him smile. 'What?' I say. He shakes his head and tells me I'm kind of adorable and then excuses himself to go to the bathroom. I head to the bar for a drink. Angry Orchard on tap. Yay!

My phone buzzes...random text and pic from YoungBuck. Meh...I'm like the worst cubhunter of all time. YoungBuck is 24, just graduated from culinary school and wants a regular Cougar for training. I tell him how yummy he looks (even though he sports a beard) and hope all is well. He wants to get together again. He wants to be told what to do. He wants to be controlled. I want to make the poor boy a sandwich and take him clothes shopping for school. I let him know I'll get back to him with my schedule for the week (which truthfully is crazy busy) and see if we can find a time.

 I get back to the booth and text Kendall where I am. I always send her the name of a place, sometimes the address, who I'm seeing and occasionally a picture of my date. I would say I'm very good at trusting my instincts on whether or not I should or shouldn't go out with someone, but I like to take the extra step for safety's sake and send Kendall a head's up - plus she gets a kick out of these stories.

JD comes back from the bathroom and sits down, frowning at my drink.

'I would have gotten that.'
It's ok I couldn't wait. Get my next one. 
'What else can you not wait for?'

Ohhh he wants to banter innuendos. Fun! We chat back and forth for a bit, laughing and loosening up with another drink and then another. So much for me only having one drink. I'm still not fucking him. I finally drop the innuendo and talk completely unfiltered. This makes him get up and boldly come over to my side of the booth. I scoot over to make room for him, but turn my body toward him and pull my leg up onto the seat to block him from getting too close to me. I don't want to make out in a lumpy booth in a well lit dive bar and ew B.O.

He starts to tell me about his side business. He buys, renovates and flips boats and buses. Yeah the housing marketing is iffy, but pimping out yachts and tour buses is good business. I'd never heard of this. What a smart guy! Finally he's gaining some interest past a pretty face. He's handy, smart and funny. He shows me pictures on his phone and excitedly scrolls through his before and afters. He leans in to kiss me. He pulls back, briefly taking my lower lip with him and then bites me on the cheek. OW what the fuck! He laughs and remarks how he's kind of a vampire and shows me his pointy canines. I tell him he can Twilight himself back over to the other side of the booth. This makes him laugh harder and he calls me feisty. He suddenly pulls all my hair back with one hand and...examines my face; which I find odd, but I don't stop him. 'I knew it. You have freckles!' he says incredulously. 'Sorry...I've only seen freckles on white girls. They're sooooo cool on you.' Personally, I think they're more sun damage age spots, but if he wants to call them cool freckles so be it.

He says he likes me and wants to see me again. He needed to take off because he was meeting his friend to get more weed (I kind of feel like the only person in Portland who doesn't smoke). I tell him sure I'd like to see him again (as long as he stops shamu kissing me and biting my face). He picks up the tab and walks me to my car.

Let me guess. The bright green hatchback is your car.
'Yep! How did you know?'
It matches your personality. Playful, cute and stands out in a crowd.
Yeah yeah, I think to myself, my Gemini Moon shines through every time.
He then pulls down the neckline of my blouse and grabs an eye full. Then, tries to take it off...in the parking lot. Seriously. I slap his hand away.
'Enough. I'm not taking my shirt off in a parking lot. I'm not THAT girl.'
Okay okay. You can't knock a guy for trying.
I'm annoyed at this and he tries to save himself by kissing me and then tries to bite my other cheek, but I pull away.
'I don't enjoy the biting.'
Okay. I'm a vampire, but only on top. I'm a pirate down below.
'What does that even meeeeeeean?' I say in a silly voice and cross my eyes at him. I can't keep this up for much longer. Playful and fun is starting to go away.
He laughs again and now I'm just ready to leave. I kiss him (MY WAY) goodbye and ask him to call me, text me, whatever me later. I follow him out and we split off in opposite directions at the freeway on ramp.

I roll the window down and turn up the music; grateful my ex bought me an xm subscription last year for my road trip to Cali. Also grateful because I know it will auto renew at the end of November and he'll forget all about it. I turn it up some more. Sometimes I miss him. Extreme fatigue is setting in and I'm now kicking myself for going out tonight. I'm going to suffer a lot when I try to skate come 10am tomorrow. I may cry and possibly throw up. By the time I get home I have a long line of texts from JD. He wants to see me tomorrow. I text back that I got home safely, thanks for asking. I had a fun time too and will text again tomorrow. I'm going to sleep. Sweet dreams ~kisseyemot~ Nothing further from Phuket and one text from Valentino. More on him later...

MacGeyser

I woke up around 6:30 to pee still wondering if I should cancel. Just cancel, check out and go home. That’s the right thing to do right? Or the smart thing...or whatever. Have I changed? Am I growing tired of these clandestine trists? Am I done playing?

I have so very little contact with him. We barely know each other even though I’ve been seeing him most of the year. I don’t even know why I keep coming back. Okay no, that's a big fat lie. I know why. He's made my top 5 of all time best lovers I've ever had-certainly the best I've had all year. I should add the best I've had in 6 years since I never stepped out on my most recent ex; which I find fucking crazy! But, then I think if I had stepped out and found some comfort for a time I would have stayed longer and as it is I stayed too long anyway.

MacGeyser has become a benchmark and each time I see him it's better than the previous time. This anxiousness I feel could be that I'm anticipating a let down. Seriously...what else can he DO? He'll have to...make a twin brother materialize to come and double tap me because honestly I can't think of anything else. Sadly, it’ll never BE anything else than this unless one or both of us choose to be more vulnerable; which is very unlikely. He's a player and so am I (he more than me) and we both know it. It's possible neither one of us wants to get hurt so we both dance around our feelings for each other with bite sized chunks of sharing mingled with a whole lot of distancing. It's childish...I know. We're broken. So what...I'm trying. Sort of. 

Maybe he'll just blow me off this time. He did last time even though he was iffy and leaning toward 'no' about being able to find time for me. Along with being a Player, he's a dealer too. (LOL I'm going to tell him that next time-being a dealer and a player at the same time. He'll be amused.) The business of herb is booming. He's doing quite well for himself, but makes him even more unavailable because he's so driven to succeed financially. I know this about him. Something he told me the first time we were together. When we were both almost too drunk to fuck and he was trying to impress me by telling me how much money he makes/has (like I care). At one point in his life he was homeless and he vowed to never have empty pockets again. Ok...that impressed me.

Because I left things open with no response after he sent me a long apology and a promise to see me next time (from last month's blow off); which I shrug off as complete bullshit, once I did resurface 4 weeks later with an 'I want you to fuck me' message, he responded within seconds with 'Where are you? I'm ready.' and sends pictures to show me. 'Your pussy must have been screaming at you cuz I've been thinking about you.' He either missed me and thought I'd never message him again or he's just horny and I happen to coincidentally text him when he's jerking off..or both.

After a deluge of texts rapidly firing back and forth, which leaves me panting and cursing him, he calls me. I frown and I stare at my phone. He NEVER calls me. That's new and it makes me uneasy. ~sighs~ I answer like a meek little girl. 'hello?' Yes, we know each other well enough to know exactly what to say to get each other off in less than a minute.

'You good?...SAY YES!'
Yes
'~chuckles~ Thank you sweetheart. You have a good day ok?'
Ok. You too.
*click

The two weeks leading up to today were laden with negotiations to see each other again. His schedule and mine were not lining up until finally today worked out perfectly for both of us. Measure 91 just passed for Oregon so he is busier than ever cementing a foothold there. One tiny sliver of time sandwiched between his work appts. He's delighted and so am I...well up until the whole Phuket fiasco (Phuket fiasco...~snorts~ Christ...who writes this smut. Me. Who's reading it? YOU.). 

I get back into bed, but sit up to meditate. My mind floats away. A small distraction bubbles up to question if I should steal one of the pillows because they are truly divine…really want to steal a soft fluffy….is this the end?  Things end. Sometimes abruptly. I always prepare myself for it now after what happened with BrentTen. Ugh...I push thoughts of BT far away. I'm still raw over him. Still hurt and I kind of feel a little guilty that I barely gave him a shrug as a response. I sent him a blank email and then followed it with a sort of cryptic and brief answer, but I'm sorry...no, I don't want to stay friends, Brent. I don't wanna! Fucker...

MacGeyser texts at 7:30 and my heart jumps into my throat. He's confirming...10ish-11ish. It’s his way…being ISH. It keeps me waiting and wanting. It’s a game he enjoys, I’m sure. Making me wait.

MacGeyser, I gave him that nickname. He’s quite proud of it even if he’s too young to have ever seen a McGyver tv show. I’ve known for many years that I can squirt, but with him he can literally make me geyser like a goddamned porn star. I’m sure this sharpens his appeal for me. I have literally ruined beds because of him. Now I just lay down layers upon layers of towels before we do anything.

He had actually texted the day before to also confirm and hoped I had come up a day early so he could have me twice. This is the second time he has expressed his desire for me as being somewhat on the same level as mine for him. Up until recently, it was only about my needs being satisfied and he was happy to be of service to me. Happy to fulfill my cravings, my desires, my needs. This new dynamic made me feel uncomfortable and I could feel myself automatically binding, shielding and grounding; protecting myself.

This weekend was not turning out to be the way I imagined and I can tell I’m off my game because of Phuket. I head off to breakfast. I love free breakfast and I send Phuket a very nice text back…of course I still want to be friends; which is true. I text MacGeyser back something gritty and dirty…yes, I’ll be ready for him. Who am I kidding? Myself? I’m not cancelling!! Then I also check in with two friends to lament over Phuket. All the disappointment. They had hoped he would be a contender. They want to know about MacGeyser too.

I raid the housekeeping cart on my way back from breakfast and grab a bunch of towels...cuz well, you know...and head down to my room again. I spend some time primping, drinking the rest of the sangria Phucket brought from last night and then settle in to watch tv. 

There's a quick knock on the door just before 11:00. I turn off the tv and head toward the door to peer through the peephole. Bastard has it covered with his finger. HA! Just before I look away he uncovers it and makes a monster face at me, waggling his tongue at me. I squeal, laugh and hurriedly open the door. He immediately pushes his way in, locks the door behind him and then places his hand on my stomach and pushes me back while leading me into the room.

God he smells good-a nice mix between freshly bathed and slowly baked in weed. I tell him how good he looks, he graciously accepts the compliment with a boyish smile and tells me I'm gorgeous as always. We chit chat about nothing in particular as we undress and kiss. He's faster than me, then runs across the room and flips backward onto the bed-posed with his ankles crossed and hands behind his head grinning while he watches me finish. He remarks that I've lost more weight and frowns a little bit. I turn and show him my backside and playfully say over a shoulder, 'Do you still like it anyway?'

He laughs, 'You know I do, but try not to lose more.' I refrain from making a comment (Huh! I'll do what I want...or you can't tell me what to do! because oh he can, he will and I'll concede) and instead climb onto the bed, crawling over to him as he reaches out to knead my thigh with one hand and a breast with the other. 'I love all this flesh...all this softness...all these curves.' This makes me smile. I've gotten to a place of acceptance regarding my body and I like that I'm now attracting men who appreciate women who look like me. I close my eyes and melt into his gentle caresses. Suddenly, he reaches around, spanks me hard and I yelp in protest instinctively trying to cover myself. He flips me over, holds me down roughly (that's gonna leave a mark) and that sends me off into gigglefit. Really? You're going to pull a 50 Shades on me? Puhlease. He raises an eyebrow. 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Mmmhmm. I act unimpressed and roll my eyes at him. He grins at me  'Alright alright. Challenge accepted.'

We begin to Edge; which we haven't done before together. When I say 'We' I mean 'He' Edged me since he wouldn't let me up to Edge him back; which kept him in control over me. Fiiiiiiine. He can tell as my breathing becomes more deliberate that I'm not new to this practice. He proceeds to blissfully torture me for two hours bringing me right to the edge literally, making me hover, teetering so close I can barely stand it and then pulling me back down before starting all over again. He asks for more of me...all of me and he'd smile every time my aura would arc out, but I'm reluctant to give my all. I won't and probably never will. I'm not in love him. He doesn't deserve it.

At one point I cover his eyes and tell him to stop looking at me with his pretty eyes. He completely stops what he's doing and gives me a surprised look.

'I have pretty eyes?'
Yes. What? Are you fishing for compliments now *****? Ok. I think you're stunningly beautiful inside and out.
He looks genuinely touched. Of course I have to sabotage this moment immediately and blurt out
...besides I don't fuck ugly men.
'HAHA! You don't have to baby.'

He kisses me and continues. One of the best kissers...Yep. No hint of shamu with him.

The hotel phone rings at some point. I don't answer it, but we already know 'time's up'. I am long past check out time. We have to get out soon or I'll make him pay for another night.

'Have you suffered enough?' I wonder if he knows his question is loaded. He asks me to move to Washington again. I can't tell if he's sincere or just consumed by lust.

'Yes. Give it to me. We don't have time for me to beg you properly.' He nods and immediately takes me right over the edge into oblivion, completely emptying the Light right out of me as he pours all his into me. I think if he had asked me 6 months ago I would have seriously considered it and made him mine for a while, but my mind is made up. Too many things have gone awry for me this year. I'm tired. I'm want to go home. I want to go where the sun loves me. The thought of spending one more winter in Portland makes me want to stab myself in the face.

We jump up and shower. Happily talking about nothing in particular. He also remarks about how amazing the toiletries smell and proceed to use an entire bottle on himself. I wonder if he is also planning on robbing the housekeeping cart on the way out. We get out and dress quickly. He throws open the curtains and peeks out the window into the parking lot. "I guess the green is on the other side," he said. "Well, we didn't come for the green," I reply as I stroke his cheek and kiss him. He smiles back, smacks me on the ass and then asks me when I was coming back up. I tell him probably next month sometime. I'll let him know. "Perfect, I'll see you next time sweetheart." And with that he grabs his keys and wallet and heads out the door.

I start gathering my stuff together, finish the rest of Phuket's delicious homemade sangria (such a shame about that), load up the hard cider he brought me just in case I didn't like the Sangria (Crispin...bleh. I thought everyone loved Angry Orchard) and take off to make the trek home.

Meeting Phuket

**Warning-I’m not going to hold back. I am a single unattached non-monogamous deviant. If that combination of words raises your hackles, please feel free to stop reading. I’m going to talk about the men I spend time with. I may not give you the blow by blow (hahahahaha)…it’s not really my expertise; writing sexually explicit material, but I am going to share. Most of the names are fictitious, nicknames I’ve given them or portions of their screen names. I’m finding I’m not alone in my journey, just more candid than most about it.  I’ve done very stupid things, I’ve had hard conversations, I’ve lied, hurt, been hurt, loved, been humiliated, withdrawn, grown and inspired. If you have anything insightful you’d like to add, please comment. If I find your comment judgey, close-minded or in any way disturbs the flow in a negative way I’ll just delete it…because it’s my blog and I can.

It’s strange after all this time and encouragement from friends that I choose now to blog about my dating experiences/sexapades, but I think I have the innate need to today because I had a significant breakthrough and I feel like I discovered an awesome secret. It didn’t come until this morning when I was meditating. I suppose my brain needed to chew on the reason why I behave the way I do with whom I do for a little while-for like ..mmmm…27 years!!! ~rolls eyes~

I went on three dates this past weekend. Well I say dates loosely. All parties involved were fully expecting to get some. Overall, it seemed like everyone was on the hunt-looking to fuck. My phone was blowing up with invitations. My visitor count on dating sites started to increase. More messages were hitting my page. Could be that Scorpio was tickling Venus, but I didn’t really have time to look it up and quite honestly I didn’t care. Trying to navigate four very busy people’s schedules (mine and three others) where everyone feels special, seen and heard is challenging.

I was pulled in to a few messages that provided some nice FB fodder. I enjoy this immensely. It provides a very real, but humorous glance at the travesty of how far we’ve devolved when it comes to connecting to people with the ultimate intent of coupling. I’ve received some feedback from people about how sorry they feel for me that I am having such a difficult time finding a man. First, I’m not having a difficult time finding a man. I am, what I affectionately call, up to my eyeballs in dick. I’m waiting for the right guy to find ME. I really don't have to do anything, but wait to receive him. Until then I’m remaining open to love and happily trolloping along. I may not think like a man, but I certainly date like one. Sadly, overall, some people miss the point in regards to my posts. They’re supposed to be funny. Fuckin’ laugh…I do.

I matched with Phuket online about 6 weeks ago. He is handsome, successful, ambitious, refined, quiet, analytical and has been in an open marriage for 17 years. His wife is delightful; we’ve spoken on the phone. I call him Phuket because at some point during a conversation I asked him what was on his Fucket list. Since most people have fantasies and many of them will be played out in one’s lifetime if they are lucky having a Fucket list is essential. He was intrigued by my openness and unfiltered banter regarding this. Phuket and I playfully texted, called and skyped until it was clear if we wanted more we’d have to do more. Still, I wasn’t sure about him yet. He suggested driving down to Portland, but I said ‘Nah, I need to get out of town for a while. My week has been hell. I don’t mind coming up there.’ and to please choose a restaurant. I’ll be coming up hungry. I immediately text MacGeyser, give him dates and times of availability and ask him if wants to get together to play. MacGeyser is a weakness. I’m like a moth to a flame regarding him. More on him later.

Phuket chooses a Mexican restaurant (YAY…I love Mexican food), but when I arrive it’s clear I’m not a fan. This is obviously a local hangout and we’re not welcome. Also, they serve primarily seafood. My phobia starts crawling up my arms, across my chest and up my neck. My eyes and mouth start to water and I push down the feeling I need to throw up. Just writing about it gives me the heebie jeebies. 

I see him seated in a booth, start smiling and walking over. He’s even BETTER looking in person. Dayem. He gets up and gives me a big hug. Suddenly, I feel repulsed. Shit…no no noooooo! We exchange pleasantries and I sit down. He scoots in right beside me and puts a hand on my thigh and squeezes. Bleh…still feel repulsed. I couldn’t tell if it was him, the blaringly loud music or the stench of fish. I order a corona and just down the sucker before telling him we can’t stay. I’m sorry. Then I have to tell him my phobia. It's always embarrassing for me. I won’t go into it further. I just don’t like seafood…period. 

He pokes fun at me about it, as most men do, but we leave immediately, drive to three other places (a closed bbq place, a seedy pool hall pub, Sharis-REALLY?) before ending up at a Chinese place. Now I’m really hungry, tired and annoyed. Right before we walk in he grabs me and lays one on me because he “just can’t wait anymore”. My heart sinks. His style of kissing doesn't match mine (I call his style shamu kissing) and although I could adjust I simply don't enjoy when men feel like they need to explore my entire mouth with their tongue. Also, his cologne was off-putting. Am I getting sick? 

I chose to sit across from him saying I wanted to be able to see him when I talk to him, but really, I needed some space to calm the fuck down. We eat, drink, talk, laugh…it’s just like when we were on line and relax into it. Yay! I feel so much better. Off to the hotel…more drinking, talking and then touching, kissing, undressing and at one point he whispers in my ear, 'Will you let me fall in love with you?' and I grimace. No, I am not feeling it. Nope. ~sighs~ Now I'm distracted. A few days earlier we had discussed how if we connected well in person it would be the beginning of the end. Eventually, someone will want to take me off the market and I will let them, but until then we could have our fun. 

I decided to just play it out, get him off fast and hope he makes an excuse afterwards that he has a busy day tomorrow and should probably take off or roll over and fall asleep, but he was determined to make me orgasm. My body was not only not responding, it was shutting down. WTF? Why don’t I like him? I stare at him…he’s hot, he’s nice, he’s in to me. He tries several different things, but even with my guidance and coaching it doesn't help. The rhythm is off…everything is just…off. 

Finally I just ask him to stop. He’s sweating, dripping on me and reeks. It’s just…gross. I state the obvious and the truth; I’m not feeling it even though I really like him. I absolutely don’t understand it and I apologize. He is disappointed, sad, upset and thinks it's because he’s married. I insist that it isn't, but pause to think about it more. 

I say that maybe a part of me does have a problem with it. No matter what, in this situation, I never get to be number one. He tries to cut me off and I shake my head. I'm not done yet. Actually, I'm not number two OR three either. If I'm lucky, I'll hold a number 4 spot behind the wife, the princess daughter and the coveted corner office. With me you get the whole pie, but what do I get? I get to go home and be alone. I don't need a man to be happy, but they sure are nice to have around. I deserve to be number one, ******. This resonates in me. I don't think I've ever said that aloud to anyone especially not pacing around a hotel room naked. 

He gets up and avoids looking at me. Whatever he was going to say earlier he keeps to himself and heads to the bathroom to shower. He dresses quickly and leaves. I peer at him through the peep hole as he pauses before heading down the hall. I want a cigarette, but I don't have any. Also I haven't smoked in 8-9 years...so yeah. 

I call down to housekeeping and ask for new linens to be delivered then shower in the dark which I sometimes do when I have sensory overload. It’s peaceful and soothing to me. I use ALL the shampoo and conditioner because it smells so damn good! Mental note to raid the housekeeping cart on my way out. I had planned on taking a bath earlier, but fatigue is setting in. My eyes hurt. I do three rounds of Tapping and that seems to bring me some solace. 

I strip the bed and by the time I have all the sheets and blankets piled up housekeeping arrives with new ones. I remake the bed, tidy up the room, layout my clothes for Saturday, repack my bag and crawl into bed. Phuket texts me around 2am. He says he's sorry for getting upset with me, that his ego had gotten the best of him and hoped we would still be friends. It occurs to me that he may never been shut down like that before. I decide not to respond until the morning. I drift off to sleep with my last thought being worried about seeing MacGeyser and wondering if I should cancel. If my body is being bizarro, this is going to end poorly. I don’t want it to end…Not yet.