“…….I go out every night and sleep all day Since you took your love away, Since you been gone I can do whatever I want, I can see whomever I choose, I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant , But nothing I said nothing can take away these blues , ‘Cause nothing compares , Nothing compares to you”

KJ,

It has been 44 days since we broke up. That means it’s been 1056 hours since I last told you I loved you while we were together.  63,360 minutes since you were my guy  and I’ve now endured 3,801,600 seconds of complete heartbreak.

I vacillate between the stages of grief. The denial that surfaces when I’m at “our” bar and I’m expecting you to walk in at any moment and we’ll pick up planning our future where we left off.  There’s anger that you are more empowered with the demons that reside within than the love I gave you.   The bargaining that I do with myself that if you just come back, I’ll put up with whatever you throw my way, including the drinking and the drugs.  I go through the depression stage most of all, when it randomly hits me that you’re not my person and I’m walking through the grocery store and the pain is so great I’ll almost collapse. I thought I almost hit acceptance last night, when I finally deleted your number out of  my phone, along with those of your mom, your dad, and your best friend. I thought I hit acceptance when I hadn’t cried for two days, but my subconscious had other ideas as I woke up remembering the dream I had of you last night, and the lone tear that streamed down my face told me that the final stage of grief was nowhere near.

Kj, I have a picture on my phone taken the day before you went to detox.  You’re sitting behind me, arm wrapped around me, and just as I went to snap the selfie, you decided to kiss me. The pic just shows the side of your face with your lips pressed near mine. I’m looking at the camera and my eyes are bright green and sparkling with happiness that you’re going to get better and we are going to start the new chapter in our lives. We sat in the car and both cried because we knew it was going to be hard. We knew our relationship was going to change drastically from that point forward.   We were determined that we’d make it and despite the odds (40% to 60% relapse rate for substance abuse disorders), you’d make it too.

We didn’t make it though.  I had no clue what I was getting into. That loving you in recovery was harder than loving you as a drunk.  I could have never guessed that sobriety would change you so much, that eventually it would be for the better but in the short term but the process would be heart wrenching.   When you were drinking, you couldn’t get enough of my body.  When you stopped, it was all I could do to get you to make love to me once a week.  When you were drinking, you were in constant communication.  Sobered up, I could barely get a good night text.

Even though it was never confirmed that you relapsed, I knew you well enough to know the signs.  The forgetting, the meanness, the lies were all signs that were lit up in my face like the flashing neon Bud Light sign outside of  our bar.  I gave up on you KJ. I gave up on us because I needed to save myself.  I wish I could take it back and taken a chance dipshit (remember, this was always my term of endearment for you).  But this was one thing that you were determined that would be completely out of my control.  When we were on our road trip, you told me how much you loved me. That you never thought you’d be able to get someone like me.  That you dreamed of us being a family.  But despite all of this,  you promised that if you found yourself caught up in the alcohol and drugs again at any point, you’d walk away from me, because you needed to be man enough to make the decision to do what’s best for me.

I”m trying KJ, I really am.  I went on a date that was terrible. I started swiping again.  I tried to distract myself by talking and flirting with old friends. I started going out again to our bar and sing karaoke, even though I have to walk away when someone sings Bohemian Rhapsody and dealing with the pain of being ignored by our best couple friends is hard.  I try to do anything to not think about the fact that you texted me twice to let me know you’re okay, and I now haven’t heard from you in ten days. You let me know that you moved to another state after we broke up to get a change of scene to deal with your issues. You apologized for everything that you did to me. It’s not enough,. I work over 80 hours a week so I don’t have to think about the emptiness I feel when my brain points out that we are really over this time.

I picked this version of this song over Prince and Sinead O’Connor because of you. You played it for me while we were lying in bed one night. I had my head on your chest and I was forcing you to try Peeps (because how could you have gone 36 years and never had a crappy, marshmallow bunny?).  We were talking about how scared you were of stopping the drugs and alcohol and going into a deeper depression, which led us to the conversation of Chris Cornell,

I don’t know if you’ve found someone to take my place. I do know what we had was real.   I know time heals wounds.  I’m following the creed you would recite when you entered recovery.  One day at a time. That’s all I can focus on. Getting through each 24 hours without you. I hope you’re overcoming the fight within you KJ.

I love you always,

Ellie

“Seven forty two in the morning, Eight seconds before it all sinks in , Put your best face on for the world, Fake another smile and just pretend, But you’re just puttin’ off the pain ,Nothing’s ever really gonna change, So let it hurt, let it bleed Let it take you right down to your knees ,Let it burn to the worst degree ,May not be what you want, but it’s what you need, Sometimes the only way around it, Is to let love do it’s work, And let it hurt”

I started this blog because I was having fun. I was confident. I was hot. I was living my best life.  The tone has changed the past few months. It’s become something real. My therapy. My diary.  Of course, I have the insecurity of my readers thinking I’m some emo nutcase lately.  But it’s real life. It’s my life.

I’ve been anonymous so I don’t often go into details about who I really am, but it’s time to share that. I don’t mean my name or identifiers, but what makes me.. well, me.   I’m a mom of three boys and dogs. I’m in my early 40s.   I lost my great job almost three years ago, which led to me working both jobs just to make ends meet.

In self-reflecting, I’m beginning to evaluate and wonder how I went from stability to working 80 hours a week and crying on the bathroom floor over a raging alcoholic bartender who’s treating me like I’m dog shit that he stepped in.  I’m living my life on auto-pilot. The joy has gone out of my green eyes and I can barely fake it. In my prior life, I was surrounded by a posse of friends that I could turn to in any moment. In this second half of my life, my friends are 20 somethings who have no idea what I’ve gone through and the main person I text is my ex who also upgraded me and is replying to me out of pity.

I’ve been teetering on the edge of exhaustion and sadness the past 9 months. Then all it took was Hurricane KJ to come through and finally destroy me. But this time I have no one to help me pick up the debris that is my heart torn in pieces. This is the first time I’ve felt alone with pain.  I don’t like myself like this. I feel like a whiner and that’s not me. The real me is like the old Animaniacs, “tiny, toony, and a little lot of loony.”

I want to do like everyone tells me. I want to just focus on something else. I want to just move on. I want to be one of those strong women that say fuck it, and let it roll.  Mornings are the worst. I dream about him at night but sleep is a respite. Then when I wake up to no missed calls and texts, I feel like I’m being punched in the heart and then gut. KJ is constantly and obsessively running through my head like a movie reel. And I can’t force myself to think of anything else no matter how hard I try.  Because this movie was cut off before the ending.  The not knowing what happened is so unfair.   It’s been a week since our breakup. And no word. I need to know how the movie ends, even if its not a happy ending, just so I can get started with the sequel.

He. Destroyed.Me

“I know I’m probably better off on my own Than lovin’ a man who didn’t know What he had when he had it ,And I see the permanent damage you did to me , Never again, I just wish I could forget when it was magic, I wish it wasn’t four am, standing in the mirror, Saying to myself, you know you had to do it, I know The bravest thing I ever did was run”

“He’s just trash” “Fuck him” “You deserve so much more” “You just need to move on”

While all the above is probably true from well meaning friends, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.  Your person is no longer your person. Especially as co-dependent as KJ and I were. He was addicted to drugs and alcohol. I am addicted to him. I know I broke up with him. I know it was for the best. But he was gone days before I put it into words. And it was a toxic love. Oh so toxic.  I’m damaged now.  I wish I could just move on like everyone is telling me to.

I woke up to three missed calls from KJ’s mom.  He’d disappeared with her car yesterday, and she needed it for work this morning. That confirmed my suspicions that he’d been drinking again. She thought he was with me (apparently she didn’t know we broke up three days ago).  He was always so cautious with letting his mom know where he was and to make sure she had her car for work.  I confessed to her that I think he relapsed.  He finally returned home this afternoon. She let me know so that I knew he was safe.  But this is exactly why I broke up with him. I can’t go through the anxiety all day. And the rational part knows drunk KJ is a fuckboi.   The not coming home tells me he moved on. And the thought of kissing someone else makes me nauseous.

As I’ve mentioned in many earlier posts, Friday night was our night. Falling asleep, beard nuzzling my neck, hand on my boob.  Now I’m without him.  It’s almost like losing a phantom limb. I can feel something that’s not there. That something is him behind me with his arms wrapped around me.

I went to our bar the other night.  All our friends were there.  Who gets custody of the bar? Who gets custody of B and W, our best couple friends who we are supposed to be going on a trip with in two weeks? (Which reminds me, have to get deposit back for that one.)

I have so much anger inside me. I’ve had so much going on and this is what finally is breaking me.  TY (the assault guy) was at the bar. He’s got more than a foot and at least 80 lbs on me but the anger from him assaulting me on top of what KJ just pulled made me not care.  PJ had to pull me back from attacking him. I was also going to drive home. It’s like suddenly, I just don’t care anymore.

I cared and I looked like a fool. Fuck that.

 

Here’s another absolutely perfect song.

” I said I’d catch you if you fall. And if they laugh, then fuck ’em all. And then I got you off your knees. Put you right back on your feet. Just so you can take advantage of me”

“Hi, I’m KJ. I’m from the other location. My ex-girlfriend knows you.”  

“Hi, I’m Ellie. I don’t know her.”

                             Three hours later:

“Ellie, want to stay and have a beer with me since we are both off?”

“Actually, I do KJ.” 

Four beers later:

“KJ, this has got to be the best first non-date I’ve ever had.” 

“Same Ellie. Want to get out of here and continue somewhere else?”

“Yep, but I’m on a rebound so just drinks and friendship KJ.” 

“Ha! Ellie, you got it. You may not even want to be there with the friendship. You have no idea how fucked up I am.”

Instant connection.  But I wished I’d never agreed to that beer. I wish I would’ve never looked into those blue eyes.  Most of all, I wish I would’ve read my blog over and over so I’d always remember the hell he put me through and realized how likely the possibility of a relapse was.  Or the mood swings that come with the recovery.

I don’t know if he’s drinking again or just being an asshole.  Considering he avoided his mom and not just me for two days straight, I’m convinced it’s the former.  This past weekend he disappeared on me for two days. He hasn’t done that since his last bender, when he hit rock bottom, a few weeks before he finally got completely sober.  When I finally spoke to him, he was short tempered and couldn’t remember any of our conversations from two days prior. He also started going out after work with his current boss, his old drinking buddy.

He texted me after standing me up for the second time in two days (something sober KJ has never done. Drunk KJ didn’t really do it often.)  “Ellie, I need some space to think right now.” “KJ, are we breaking up?” “Ellie, I’m not sure right now. I don’t know if I want to be with you or not.”

Whoa, he was in love with me two days before. I was in shock. I knew I could’t go through the anxiety of waiting around to see if he was breaking up with me. I damn sure knew I wouldn’t survive the constant agony of him drinking again. I had to make the tough decision, I texted him (he refused to answer the phone for days, it had to be text), a straightforward, heartfelt, with a little bit of savagery thrown in text that it was over.  I made it clear that I wasn’t going to be the girl waiting around for him to figure out if he wanted me enough. I also made it clear that I knew my worth, and he was throwing away the woman that stood by him through hell when all his friends and family turned their backs, tired of their antics.

There was a study done about the physiological response to heartbreak. Scans were done on subjects who were given pictures of their exes to study to see what part of the brain lit up. Interestingly, the part of the brain that detects physical pain glowed along with the emotional parts.  Yes, the inevitable break up happened.  My stomach is crampy, I’m nauseous,  and I feel like doubling over from squeezing pain in my chest. Yet, I can’t sob and I want to so bad. I’m listening to sad songs and looking at pictures. Watching the video of our first kiss. All I can feel is pain and emptiness.  It’s so funny how with CS I thought I was heartbroken, and now looking back I realize it was more of hurt from feelings of rejection.  This is truly a broken heart.

He’s again gone. I’ve gotten no response to us breaking up. I deserve a response. I deserve closure.  I texted him to tell me something, anything about what changed in how he felt. Tell me he didn’t love me. Tell me he used me. Tell me he found someone else. Just tell me something. In a way I want to thank KJ.  I’m successful. I’m smart. I’m hot in a cougar way. I’ve got my shit together.  I invested so much energy, and emotion, and money into a raging alcoholic who couldn’t look past the bottle to truly see me. Now I know what it’s like to love a narcissist. Now I know what it’s like to love an addict.

When I was little,  I had a recurring nightmare that followed me into adulthood. It was my school bus then and my car now going over a bridge and slowly sinking into a lake. Slowly,  I was going into this water and gasping for air, barely keeping my head up. If I wouldn’t have woken up each time, I would’ve drowned in my dream.  That’s what it’s like loving KJ.  Every time I think I can breathe, he sinks me.  It’s time for me to wake up so I don’t drown.

“It’s funny that you’re calling me tonight And, yes, I’ve dreamt of you too And does he know you’re talking to me? Will it start a fight? No, I don’t think she has a clue”

Blue eyes. Over 6 ft tall. Beard.  Possesses the ability to give amazing orgasms. Nope, I’m not describing some sort of superhero.  I’m describing the last two (non-family) important men in my life, both KJ and CS.  This is where the similarities end.  I really shouldn’t be making comparisons between the two as relationships I had with CS and my current relationship with KJ is vastly different.  But I can’t help it.

The main reason is probably that CS is back in my life, by text, on a daily basis.  We’re friends with a tiny bit of flirtiness, and we know where the line is.  Of course if I’m going to be honest with myself, there are times when I’d still love to hear his voice, as it probably remains my favorite voice to listen to.

CS matches my wit better than KJ. KJ matches me better emotionally.  But there’s no such thing as a Build-A-Bro workshop in a mall.  KJ is truly a male version of me, while CS balanced me.  I’m not trying to “decide” between the two as that decision has already been made. I know who I am with and want to be with.  Maybe with the friendship with CS, I’ve got the best of both worlds now.

I’ve always had two theories, one of which I have disproven to myself.   The first is that there really is no such things as friends with benefits. I’m sticking to that.  Usually one person catches feelings and the other doesn’t. Or, in my case, after months of swearing we didn’t want a relationship, KJ and I fell for each other.  The other theory that I’ve disproven is that exes can’t be friends.  I do still have a slight emotional attachment to CS, but at the same time like where we are now.  And if I’m being super honest, there are times when I really miss him and would love to see him again. But don’t know if that would be wise.

Totally unrelated to the post but it’s a big deal so I had to include. Congrats to my man, my KJ, of thirty days of sobriety today.  I’m so proud of him, and I can still see when he struggles.  For example, we went to a huge event with two other couples last week with 40,000 people, who were openly walking down the street drinking.   He was shaking thirty minutes in but refused to leave because it was something I wanted to do. Little did he understand that his well being is way more important to me than being at any event,  Our relationship has its ups and downs. It’s not easy. But he’s truly killing this sobriety thing.

 

 

“If you love me don’t let go. Hold on, hold on, hold on to me.. because I’m a little unsteady.”

KJ is gone. I lost him. Literally. No breaking up was required. Like “Bye Felicia” “Adios” “Sayonara” “Deuces”.   I knew something was wrong when he couldn’t remember having sex with me (see previous post), but I didn’t know it was that bad.  For my mental health, it’s for the best.  For my heart, it sucks.

I saw him Thursday and we talked and made up from Wednesday. He was normal.  We had fun, even though he was working. He chilled with my kids. After realizing I had feelings for him, I wanted to see if I could help him overcome what he needs to overcome.   We made plans for Friday, and for the first time, I was the one to say “I love you.”

Friday night comes and he doesn’t show.  I look on our schedule app for work and notice he’s no longer listed as an employee.  I have no way of getting in touch with him since he broke his phone so I called a coworker. She informed me that he came to work so strung out that it was dangerous.  He ended up walking out of work and going to a town about an hour away from us, to one of our other restaurant locations, where he proceeded to get more fucked up and kicked out.  He’s worked for our chain for over ten years, so I knew it was something major.  Everyone is concerned. His mom doesn’t know where he is. HIs roommate says he didn’t see him for a day and a half. I dropped by his place last night. I went to every bar I know he goes to. He’s nowhere.  He’s such a creature of habit that he never goes anywhere different.  I don’t have a good feeling.

He’s gone. And it is out of my control.  Even if he comes back, he still has to be gone for me. I can’t go through this again with someone I love. Addiction is a beast that love or sex cannot conquer. I feel like KJ has been dangling over the railing of a bridge and I’ve been holding his hand feeling his hand slip through mine, but at the same time, he’s trying to send me over with him.

With CS, I was heartbroken, I cared about him a lot. Loved talking to him and spending time with him, but I wasn’t in love with him, and he didn’t need me. I cried and cried and cried when he broke up with me.  I haven’t cried yet for KJ. I’m numb and protecting my heart, because when it finally hits me, it’s going to break me for awhile, there’s no crying for three days and getting over it. I had to sleep on the couch last night because I”m so accustomed to him on Fridays going to sleep with him curled up behind me, beard nuzzling the back of my neck, and hand on my boob. I actually had to wrap my arms around myself for comfort.  When I woke up, I had to stare at the ceiling and realize I don’t know if he’s alive or dead or safe.  And hear his voice in my head telling me just five days ago “I’m damaged babe. I love you but don’t do this to yourself”, before making love to me like he never had.

It’s so funny how life works. When I started posting about KJ and we were just having the best sex of our lives.  And then me not telling him I’m ready when he asked.  And then figuring out I have feelings for him by hooking up with someone else. And then him disappearing after I told him I loved him. There’s no closure to be had on this one. He’s gone.

 

 

“You’re never gonna grow up. You’re never gonna be a man. Peter Pan.”

This day is full of surprises. First of all, big shout out to CS.  Who would’ve thought that after all that,  he would be the guy friend I vent to about KJ? Second, I discovered that I’ve been in denial.  I’ve been able to talk to CS without any of the hurt surfacing. That is one of the things that proves to me what I’ve been pushing away. I’ve got feelings for KJ.  Just in time to get over him. Because he’s toxic for me. And a leopard doesn’t change his spots.  And a tiger can’t change his stripes. And Walruses still have big dicks. (Nothing to do with KJ, just a fun and random fact.)

I completely acted like I was in high school yesterday. I saw KJ flirting with a co-worker (that he claimed he fucked to another co-worker but I think that’s talking shit, she wouldn’t give him the time of day for that tho), and I lost my shit.  He also couldn’t remember that he fucked me on Monday, which a guy friend told me I need to get over, that when you’re having sex with someone almost every damn day, the days run together.  I shut him out all night at work. (CS used to tell me that shutting down was my biggest problem. Ironically, it didn’t hit me until we broke up and I’m with someone else that I realized he’s right).

KJ came in to our bar a little late and I decided to be friendly but he looked at me and said “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit Ellie.”  I bought him a beer (a good one, we ain’t talking PBR tallboys), and he complained that it was the wrong size. I bought him a shot and told him to chill and have a good time.  He told me he didn’t want to deal with me. So I did the immature thing and sought attention elsewhere.

TY is someone I’ve met a few times at our afterwork bar. Stanford graduate. Tall, smart, handsome, funny, successful. I was talking to him before KJ got there. But when KJ ignored me, I did the immature thing and went into full flirt mode.  KJ, already angry, slammed down his beer and left.  I had a pseudo hookup with TY out of anger.

I’ve regressed from partying like a college girl to playing high school games.  KJ brings out the worst in me.  He never grew up. I can see my mistakes,  I own my mistakes, and I know that this person I”m becoming isn’t me. I have to start working on myself.  And that means letting KJ go.  If only I didn’t have to see him at work. As CS told me, I knew better than to shit where I eat. (Hey, that’s kinda literal since I work in the restaurant biz.)

“Sweet, sweet heart of mine I’m gonna break again a million times. Is this true or gone. Have you turned to stone?”

Do you ever want to do holiday analogies? Like Santa Claus is to the Grinch as Cupid is to ___________.  Like the guy who would go around and steal all the jewelry out of boxes before a guy presents it at an overpriced cheesy dinner. Okay, I’m bitter. Had a date last night right in the area where CS and I hung out. The bar was actually at the restaurant directly behind where we had our first date. Then on the way home I had to pass the Mexican restaurant we would go to, and the hotel we fucked in, and the tavern where he asked me to be his girl.  That tavern is what this week’s blog post is on. Or rather the guy who runs the tavern.

DR and I were a Tinder match a few months ago.  He and I had a lot in common, being that we were both in the restaurant business. I failed, however, at finding out exactly which restaurant.  We had a decent date, went back to his place, listened to music, where I introduced him to my favorite non-mainstream band, Whiskey Myers.  I was super attracted to him. Until we had sex. Great kisser. Great dick. Selfish in bed.  We parted ways.

Fast forward about three or so weeks. My buddy and I went to the bar across the street from our restaurant, and there he is, sitting at the bar with his can of PBR.  We strike up a conversation, do shots of Jack Daniels ,which results in me blowing him in the parking lot after a hot make-out session.  We saw him again the week after, where he acted as if I didn’t exist. Didn’t say hello or even look my way.  Saw him again the week after, and he came over  to start talking to me, but was a total dick. Such a dick that my buddy was determined to let the air out of his tires.

Less than two weeks later I was at the tavern mentioned above. I was happy. Sitting across from the guy that was proving (I was wrong but didn’t know that at the time) to me that what DR said to me while he was being a dick was completely untrue. See DR told me that  I was the girl guys fuck but never care to date.  But at that tavern booth I was someone’s girl, and when my favorite band, Whiskey Myers, came on in the mix with all the popular music, I took it as a good sign.  Until I saw the manager going around to every table in our section but ours.  Even CS made the comment that it must be because we looked so cozy. But I knew better. It was DR.  My mistake was that I never told CS, and towards the end of our relationship, when we went there again at his suggestion, I felt like it was too late to bring it up.  I did mention to him that night that I knew the manager from my bar.

Two nights ago my co-workers and I went out to this bar and got a little trashed.  My friend turns to me and says “Look at this sexy motherfucker walking in. He’s exactly your type.”  I turned around and saw DR walking in and giving me that crooked smile. I told my girlfriend “He’s exactly my type. He’s hot and a douchebag with a beard. I’ve already had him.”  He began talking to me and bought me a beer and a shot. I thanked him, and walked back over to my friends. He came right over to my section with my friends and hung out with me the rest of the night.  He mentioned that he’d forgotten that how before we hooked up, he actually enjoyed hanging out with me and talking to me.  We caught up on things for about two hours. I asked him why he said what he did, he told me he was just making a reference to Tinder chicks in general. He told me that he’d seen me both times in his restaurant with CS, but he didn’t want to make things awkward.  He also told me that he knew we’d break up soon due to the change in our demeanors from the first time he saw us there to the last.

End of the night, he pays and asks should we leave together. I told him it was late. We ended up getting in my car, where he kissed me and asked “what now?”  When I asked what he meant, he said “well, you didn’t want to go home with me so I figured it’d be a blow job in the car.” Ahhhh….. there’s the douchebag back again.  I told him that I wasn’t giving out free blow jobs without getting anything in return. I rode him until I came twice (good thing I know what I”m doing on top because he’s still selfish),. He asked would he see me again next week. I left it at maybe.

I went home and sobbed. And messaged my guy friend (interesting fact, he’s the guy I matched with working on his Ph.D that I’d already met at my usual bar in my prior blog post. We’ve become bffs.), who told me to not cry about it, look at it like I used him. I felt so empty. Before I had sex that meant something, I was good at just using sex as a fun activity. Now I can’t.   I got off with DR, and it was intense, but at the end of the day, it comes down to I fucked a guy who told basically told me prior that I was only good for one thing.  Is the whole double standard thing still in play? Or is the best way to get  over someone not really to get under (or on top) of someone else?

I wanna be the Valentine’s Day Grinch. He had a heart ten times too small. I want one that turns to stone.

 

“I could have another you in a minute. Matter of fact, he’ll be here in a minute, baby, You must not know about me, you must not know about me. I can have another you by tomorrow. So don’t you ever for a second get to thinking you’re irreplaceable”

When I was twenty-one I had my appendix out. My surgeon was not that great and he left me a few abdominal scars. Every once in awhile, these scars will still be uncomfortable.  Not painful, just annoying. I think that’s the way it is with broken hearts. In the beginning, as soon as your heart starts to heal, you feel the pain like it is ripping apart. With time, you no longer feel like you’re going to split right open and cry,  but something will happen and you feel the tug at the scar once again.

CS gave me my closure call a little over a week ago. We had a civil conversation, decided to remain in contact and see what happens, i.e. if we could develop a friendship.  He apologized, which I appreciated.  He also said he didn’t think we’d ever see each other again.  Our main communication since we’ve broken up had been through Snapchat. I blocked him a few days ago because every time I see his name, it hits me in the gut that I was again passed over for someone else.

The same day I blocked him, I decided to dive head first back into dating again.  (It’s been harder for me to find a date this time than it was previously. My heart was not in it. Fear of rejection).  My first date was a guy named RS. We chatted all day and discovered he worked right down the road from my restaurant. He came in at the end of my shift. Now, this is how I know I wasn’t ready to do this. I’m a very girly-girl. I love makeup, hair, clothes, and shoes. I met this guy in my t-shirt and jeans and those god awful non-slip shoes.  He was pretty. All my co-workers could not stop staring at him.  But I’m not attracted to “pretty boys”.  We had a few drinks. Made out in the car for a few minutes. He texted me when he got home, I never texted back. (Is this considered ghosting? After one date?) My work friends were in shock. But again, I’m a firm believer in chemistry.

I did something I never do. I matched with a guy who I could barely see on a pic, but loved his profile.  We chatted for a bit on a messenger app. He told me that he was from the next state over but here about once a month working on his Ph.D. He then told me he was married but was just looking for friends to hang out with, nothing sexual necessarily, just friends. I told him I’d have to think on that one. He then continued to hound me to the point where I had to block him on the dating app and the messenger site. Fast forward two days later to Friday. I am at my usual bar. A guy comes over and starts talking to me. A really, really cute guy who’s just my type.  We talk and I introduce myself , to which he replies we’ve met once a month since October and I’ve introduced myself to him every time.  Now, I’m a bit of a drinker but I think I’d remember meeting someone four times.   TM proceeds to tell me how he comes to this bar once a month. When he’s in town. From the next state over where he lives.  Because he’s working on his Ph.D.   Fuck.  This can’t be a coincidence.  So I unblock the dude on the messenger app and send a message and looked across the bar, and saw him check his phone immediately after I sent the message.  I went back up to him and said “soooo…..”, to which he responded “I’ve got a date coming here. Please don’t tell her I’m married.”  Uh, that’s on you homeboy. Come to find out, he met Tandy in October, so it’s possible I could have met him then. I don’t think he was stalking me to my bar. I do, however, believe that he knew it was me when we matched.  He actually had a bit to drink and turned out to be a dick, who tried to convince me to do a threesome with his date. To which I declined.

And last night. The story of how my being spontaneous turned out to be reckless. And I was actually scared.  I matched with YR Saturday morning. We had no conversation all day beyond agreeing to meet for a drink. I’ve never met someone without any getting to know them at all. But fun is what I needed. To be wild.  We met at the usual bar. He is 6’6 and damn good looking. I kept getting a feeling that he was a shady character. He’d spent the last three months on vacation in a foreign country, and did not work.  And drove a brand new luxury car. But I was determined to be wild.  He’d had a little bit to drink when I got there, and told me he had very low tolerance for alcohol.  We did a couple of Cafe Patron shots mixed with Baileys (great shot, it’s called a Baby Guinness).  When I was on my second drink, he pulled me near him and said “Let’s get out of here and go fuck”, to which I agreed, on the contingency we use a condom.  We ended up parking in front of his house and hooking up in the back of my car with third row seating folded down. (I don’t know why I’ve never done this, it’s actually as much room as a bed.)  If I thought NFL player skull fucked me, it was nothing compared to YR.  CS once told me he’d had girls “tap out” before because he’s so big.  I am grateful for him right now giving me that idea, because I had to tap out. Close to ten inches down my throat and he refused to let me breathe.  And it still didn’t work.  He finally yanked me up by my hair, and asked “are you ready to fuck me now slut?”  He grabbed the condom and pulled me on top. After riding him for a few minutes, he turned me around to fuck me from behind. It lasted all of about three minutes.  I had a surprise after when I stood up to put my pants on. He’d pulled the condom off, and came inside me. Without my permission.  FUUUCCCKKK….. STD testing here I come next week.  He then proceeded to almost throw up in my car.   He got out the car, and told me he wanted to see me again the next day. I told him I just wanted to go home.  This dude could be the poster child for the guy you’re warned against on online dating. (He also called me twice this morning. I blocked).

Finally, there’s LM.  He comes off so non-douche bag. He’s also on the rebound. We’ve chatted for three days trying to get our schedules together. We’ve talked about everything under the sun. Sent pics of our kids to each other. It really scares me to see myself opening up again so fast. I’ve blocked my potential emotions out but who knows when we finally meet this week? He can definitely sense that I’m starting to back off from him. Spacing out our texts more and more. Am I ready?  I guess it’s just a leap of faith.

It’s been a fun week. Or at least an interesting one.

“We’re like fire and gasoline…I’m no good for you, you’re no good for me…”

 

Unless you’ve ever experienced the kind of chemistry CS and I  had, it’s hard to describe. We were never able to keep our hands off each other, even in public. Our first date, we ended up in the same booth at a restaurant, with his hand down my pants, and he almost gave me my first public orgasm. On our third date, CS and I both took a Friday off. We went to a local brewery and spent about eight hours drinking beer.   At the end of the night, we were approached by the owner who told us “If you don’t tone it down, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You guys are being lewd.”   This week, I had a couple come into the bar/restaurant where I work. This couple sat at the bar for six hours and told me that this was in the middle of where they lived, and they could not visit each others houses.  Exact same situation. By the end of the night, she was straddling him on the bar chair.  Since there were no kids near, I smiled and told the manager to just let it go.  Because I get it. And my body is craving that chemistry. And witnessing that situation, made the hurt come back just a little. I didn’t cry. But I did proceed to go out and do fireball shots with my new bar peeps to numb the ache of the scar that’s just beginning to heal.

When fire and gasoline meet, the chemistry of both components skip the spark stage all together and move straight toward an explosion. It’s hot, it’s dangerous, and it burns out quickly.  And then what’s left is embers that still smolder. CS was the gasoline, I was the fire.  He burned through me and moved on.  But I’d still give anything to feel him inside me one last time. (break up sex anyone?).  I don’t even like him as a person anymore.  But I’m craving that pure, physical chemistry.

My advice to the couple at the bar would be to slow it down.  Spend a day with no alcohol and just having fun with each other.  Don’t do anything  but kiss.  Because when you ignite too fast, you burn the entire house down.