“This is a modern fairy tale, no happy ending… no wind in our sails…But I cant imagine a life without breathless moments…”

As we know, I center my blog around music. I scroll through YouTube and listen to lyrics to find the perfect fit for how I’m feeling as I write. I’ve now discovered that when it comes to heartbreak, unrequited love, or complicated relationships, there’s a whole litany of choices.  But I found THE perfect one. So proud of myself. Never has a song described anything so perfectly.  (And here I was thinking Ed Sheerhan or Adele would do it.) So thanks Selena Gomez.

CS and I are in a complicated situation. We’re not really friends, or friends with benefits (we’ve had sex a total of once in almost three months) and can’t be in a traditional relationship. I guess this is the new term situationship.  And it’s hard. No way, no how do you EVER fall in love with someone you’re in a situationship with.  But I could. And even worse, I told him.  (Well, I told him I WOULD fall in love with him before the situationship was over ) To steal from Michael Scott (the Office) who stole from Wayne Gretzky (I know he was a great hockey player but I’m a southern girl so that’s really all I can say about that), “You miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take.”   Don’t apply that in a situationship. Miss the shot. On purpose. Because if not, you’re going to wind up feeling like that puck full on hit you on the face.

CS mentioned to me today that in the beginning, I was fine with things. He’s right. I was. I’m still fine knowing that our situationship is a day to day thing and as he says “we’re not going to ride off in the sunset together”.  But even though no future is desired or expected, I did want things a little more relationship-y than a situationship could ever have. The good morning text. The good night text.  The ten minutes to talk when I feel like my life is falling apart.   But we do talk on the phone almost every weekday. And share things that a situationship wouldn’t normally.  He says I’m his girl. That he’s my guy.  I didn’t think I’d ever connect with someone again on this level both mentally and physically.  And I’m in a panic mode. Because I took the shot.  And in my head, I let us get relationship like. And I was shown that in his head it is situationship instead. He kept it where it always has been. Where it is going to stay. Now I’m embarrassed, and running.

That’s the thing about whirlwind romances. It’s exciting. It’s intoxicating. It’s a high. It’s a quick connection. And then you fall. Without having the time to catch your breath to see if you can handle it. Then you start to argue because you haven’t gotten used to how things are going to be. And the more you argue, the more the passion seems to be your norm. Until you realize you’re not having the fun that the situationship was set out to be. Is simply living like there’s no tomorrow going to work? When the thought of never kissing that person again makes your heart break.  When there’s no future, how do you determine if it’s worth saving? Because the heart truly does want what it wants, and I want nothing more to see this through until it’s natural end. I just don’t know how.

“Another version of me..is she perverted like me, would she go down on you in a theater”……. Oops, time for a station change….”U got it, U got it bad. When you miss a day without your friend, your whole life’s off track”

I laid in bed last night coming up with the whole new blog entry in my head. Except, today I’m writing something different than I envisioned.  Alanis Morrissette was going to be my theme song today.    Because the little demon in my head was trying her (my demon is a chick that I picture as Elizabeth Hurley in the movie Bedazzled) best to convince me that CS was out getting fucked by someone else. (He wasn’t). I got in my own head and came up with a whole post about getting played emotionally this time and how much worse it was than being used for sex.  And then I was wrong. So I had to blog about what’s in me that causes my vivid imagination to make up the worst case scenarios instead of just laying back and using a toy while thinking about the way it felt when he kissed me that afternoon.

I haven’t mentioned much about CS yet, I think for fear of jinxing it.  And this post isn’t really about him, but about me. But here’s the background: He’s 6’3, hot, and has a big dick. He is great at foreplay and keeps my mind blown and head spinning at the multiple orgasms.  We talk almost everyday, which is where Usher comes in, (actually on the phone, heller 1994!), connect like hell mentally too, and is the first guy that seems to be as crazy about me as I am about him. He’s my guy, I’m his girl. (We mostly forego the boyfriend/girlfriend label as we are at the age where we are getting asked to leave bars for getting fingered rather than the homecoming dance.) He drove to my “Cheers”, met my friends. On a side note, we are waiting to have sex. Which is terrifying. and exciting. I keep having this whole Baby from Dirty Dancing moment in my head. Because I think that’s how I might feel afterwards.

So what’s the problem? Me. I have Post Traumatic Swiping Disorder. (There’s a whole market you haven’t tapped for DSM-IV diagnoses American Psychological Association).  On the outside, I’m fairly confident. I’m pretty hot for my age. I’m fairly smart. I’ve got my shit together. But such bad dating experiences has my inner, insecure needy bitch surfacing as soon as I stepped into some feelings.   CS has had such extreme patience and understanding but I know it can be frustrating for him sometimes. Because for the first time I didn’t hear from him for hours, I’d already envisioned me on the couch crying with chocolate ice cream and watching a girly movie, instead of taking him at face value when he said he was truly busy.  How do you overcome such bad experiences and not take it out on the next?  I think the antidote is just time.  And trying to vent to my girlfriends when crazy, inside, demon bitch tries to take over.

“I feel it coming baby…”

 

Marley is my 911. My fairy godmother. Without realizing it, she makes me feel as I have glitter raining all over my head.  She knows me all too well. So well she already has a speech prepared for the inevitable falling into feelings that are going to happen with celebrity look alike, or RG. Preventive is always the best cure right? It’s always said that men think with their dicks and not their brains. Guess what ladies? We are just as guilty. Except it is worse with us. Men see tits and want to fuck. We experience a man that can make our O face happen several times in a night and the next morning our minds go into fantasies of him cooking bacon in our kitchen and weeklong vacations to Mexico.

The Weeknd sings “You’ve been scared of love and what it did to you. You don’t have to run I know what you’ve been through. Just a simple touch and it can set you free.”  That’s how we feel after getting screwed over and still want to be screwed. That’s where the mythical friends with benefits relationship comes in. Of course movies make it look so simple. It ain’t sista.

RG is the sensitive type. The kind that makes ladies cream their panties. (Shut the fuck up, I know it’s vulgar but you haven’t experienced him and I have).  We stayed up late into the night the first night we matched months ago discussing music.  He turned me on to different music (Try FM-184 Goodbye).  The first night we were together he sang to me and actually cried while listening to a song. In the coming week after that, he also told me to “fuck off” for going longer than ten minutes without texting him back. He lamented that I am just like all the other women that fuck him and ghost him. In other words, he was a lot of drama even for me. But there’s something about that broody Heath Ledger movie type.

A week ago when Goodbye came up on my playlist and I was rather lonely, I sent the text to RG, opened up that again.  When I saw him after the couple date disaster, he talked to me and let me know how he’d changed. That when he dated me prior he was at the point of drinking himself sober. That night became the best sex I’d had in my entire life.  I saw him again a few days later. That topped the previous sex.

This brings me back to my friends with benefits point. RG has told me “let’s just have fun, I’m still working on me.” Gotcha RG-no attachment.  Until the rules of fuck buddies start to get broken. We are opening up to each other. We cuddled. He asked me to come over last night (that would’ve made three times in less than a week). He finally ended the night with the text “Let me know when you’re ready, I want you all night long.”  Uhhhhh—– do fuck buddies have sleepovers?

This is going to be an interesting ride.  My fingers  have been itching to send a good morning text all morning. Can I trust that he’s really changed? If he has, can I get over he’s not my tall, dark, scruffy manly man type?

 

On a lighter note: Best pickup line goes to my new match who said “Would you mind if I copy your pics to send to Santa so I can show him what I want for Christmas?”

Happy Black Friday dear reader.

 

always–Ellie

PS: RG  has me in his phone as a nickname he gave me months ago.  He incessantly calls me babe. I asked and found out last night that he didn’t remember my real name. (Alcohol kills brain cells). Can I forgive that? Yep, that tongue action can have me forgiving everything but running over my dog

………Photograph I don’t want your Photograph. I don’t need your Photograph

Ah…. Memorial Day weekend.  First official day where I feel summer in the air. This would also be my last summer in my thirties. The big 4-O was a coming….. what the fuck? How did I get here?  I have to commemorate this last summer before the transition from MILF into Cougar.  Luckily for me, I swiped right and BOOM-I had a match.  He was a 32 year old videographer who also dabbed in professional photography.   A date was set. A boudoir photo shoot. YAAAASSSSSSS……….. I packed a bag full of thigh high boots and lacy lingerie.  My friend Tandy came in and did my hair and makeup. I was prepared. I was going to meet a perfect stranger at a hotel and let him take half-naked pics of me. Gosh darn I’m so smart.

He comes in the hotel room with all professional equipment. I come in with three bottles of booze and my slut wear.  He poses me. I think I’m looking like a playboy model but chances are I’m looking like one of those Facebook memes that shame people.

Somehow we end up on the bed (you never saw that coming did you dear reader) where he informs me he does not have sex on the first date but we certainly would once he delivered the pictures and I informed him that this was not a date.

Buzz, buzz–his phone vibrates.  “Oh shit, my mom had a heart attack and a car accident and I’ve got to go.”  Wow, I should have taken this as an omen to get out of online dating. My first thought is what kind of person uses this as an excuse? My next thought is what if his mom dies and he will never again be able to receive oral sex because it will always remind him of what he was doing when his mom died?

How did this story end? I never received my pictures but I never saw them posted online anywhere so that is always a positive.   He ignored my texts and requests for pics for weeks before I finally gave up.  Three months after, I received an apology text from him saying that his mom really did die and an offer to redo the pics.

My advice? Stay clothed and always make them pay for the hotel room.

Always-Ellie