This is going to be one of those times when my bad memory gets the best of me. So right off the bat I need to apologize because I have no clue whose blog I read this on. If someone can remind me I will go back into the post and make the appropriate attributions. Y’all know I like to link you to smart folks out there.
Sometime in the last week or two (it could maybe even be three) I was reading someone else’s blog and they were talking about their “blog policy”. I’m 95% sure that’s the phrase they used. This policy was in reference to what they did and didn’t say about the person they were dating. That’s a big issue for many of us who write specifically about our dating/personal lives.
So here’s my blog policy: I hope, with the kind of hope that only a jaded 39-yr old woman from NYC can have, that one day I’m actually gonna want to let one of the guys I’m dating into my life. My whole life. That I’m going to want to take him to meet my dad and the rest of my whacky family and my totally insane friends and that I’m going to tell him all about this blog. And I’m going to invite him to read it. And he’ll sit down and over the course of a few days or a long night and I’m guessing several glasses of wine or a few beers he’ll read everything I’ve ever written about him. So I make sure that while I’m actively dating a guy, if I think there’s any hope of him being that guy, the one who gets to read the blog, I leave anything out that I wouldn’t want him to read about himself.
So if I like someone but there’s something about him that I don’t like and I fear that that’s something he’ll be sensitive about, I probably won’t mention it. Because I am actually a good person and I do care about other people’s feelings. A lot. And I’d never want to hurt someone I care about. Not intentionally or otherwise.
Add to this the fact that I am still trying to feel out, for myself, what I do and don’t feel comfortable talking about here. As I’ve said before, I’ve never been the kind of woman to gossip with her friends about sex. The thought of blogging the details of my sex life (and sexual habits, etc) and then going and meeting people for a drink kinda makes my skin crawl. I’m constantly renegotiating what’s fair game.
Alright, I think I’m done making excuses. Here’s the deal:
I mentioned in my initial description of the European that he was heavier in person than in his online personal pics and that while it didn’t make me happy I was totally used to guys in their forties being out of shape. And really, I don’t mind the spare tires. I dated a personal trainer a few years ago. He had the most perfect set of abs you’ve ever seen. But he didn’t come with a mute button so that didn’t work for me (yeah, I just said that). I’d rather have a guy with a great head on his shoulders than a great set of abs.
Anyway, after our second date I realized that the European was actually heavier than I’d realized. Chubbier. Chubby. Whatever he wore on our first date hid it well. But on our second date I was kind of overwhelmed by the thought that I might not be able to be physically/sexually attracted to him. I liked him as a person. But I just didn’t know. I’ve never actually dated anyone that heavy before. I wanted to be open to it, but *sigh*, actually told a friend that I feared the sight of his naked body might repulse me.
Go ahead and be all judgy. This isn’t a guy who I knew a long time and had developed feelings for. We’d gone out twice. And I was still figuring out if I liked him. And his physical appearance was an issue. Chubby. In case you don’t know, that’s me up there in the header.*
So there was that. And then there was the fact that he was kind of disconnected to what I would consider reality. He and I could talk about food, art, music, travel – all very high brow stuff. But he couldn’t have a conversation about stuff that was going on in the city or the nation. Politics and social issues. Things that I’m passionate about. The stuff that used to be my life’s work.
And so by our fourth date I was thinking that he probably was going to be someone I’d see for a few months and have fun with. A playpal. We could go to JALC and have great dinners together and it would be fluffy and fun. If the sex was any good. If I could be sexually attracted to him. And that, who knew, maybe it could grow into more, but probably not.
Skip ahead to the night we had sex and…it was fine. It wasn’t bad. He passed the test in that it wasn’t bad. But it was way too, um, vanilla for me. There, I said it. Stop shaking your heads. I am not particularly vanilla in my sexual tastes/needs/desires. I don’t need rocky road every time. But I just can’t deal with pure vanilla. It makes me nuts. I actually sent an email to my fuckbuddy first thing Saturday morning telling him we needed to get together ASAP because nothing makes me hornier than, well, I’m not going to get into exactly what I said.
But I was willing to continue to see him because I was hoping things might get better. And they weren’t that bad, Just not that good.
So when the European turned into a freak this weekend, I was sort of relieved. More than sort of. But also anxious because it’s just a bad pattern. But more on that tomorrow.
*Sorry about that folks. I’ve recently decided to hide my OLD blog(s). I was just the smart thing to do. For those of you who don’t know, the first 2 versions of my blog (on blogspot and OnSugar) had a nearly naked pic of me as the header. It seemed like a good idea at the time…
Tags: blog policy, date, friends, fuckbuddy, memory, sex, vanilla