Random fact, but here it is: for the first time in my life I’ve started to keep my pill bottles on my bedside table (which is really a bookcase not a table, but…). Not all of my pill bottles. Just my everyday meds and the ones I need most often for emergencies/when I’m feeling unwell. So like 6 or 7 prescriptions.

Anyway, I’ve always kept them somewhere else. In the kitchen, where I could easily hide them in the cabinet if I had company. But now they’re right there at my bedside. And they stay there.

Not too long ago, I had company (the fuckbuddy) over and he saw them all and said something. I can’t remember his exact words but it was a mixture of surprise and concern. We’ve known each other for years, but he’d never seen my medicine before, I guess.

There is a reason for this story. The same reason I started to keep my pills by my bedside. I’ve always kept them hidden from the men in my life. Away. So much so that I’d even forget to pack important pills when traveling with men, because I kept it all so compartmentalized.

But not anymore. I’m tired of breaking myself into tiny little pieces. Of holding so much back. Of pretending that I only have good days.

I’ve been dating for more than half of my life. And dating has been, more than anything else, a state of constant compartmentalization. Of showing only the pre-packaged dating version of me. And dating me is healthier and prettier and happier than the whole me/real me. IRL I have good days and bad days. Just like everyone else.

There’s that whole, “For better or worse” thing in marriage vows. I don’t envy married people most things, but I envy them that. The luxury of being their worse. And having someone who is supposed to love them anyway.

I have amazing friends and family who love me, no matter what. I’m not love-starved. It would be nice, though, to have a man who could actually SEE ME, warts and all. As a start.

I’ve been pretty dull lately.  All work and stress and blog blah blah blah.  I know.  It’s pathetic.

So I’m gonna take a big deep breath and try to block everything out, all of the stress and my phone bzzing every 2 minutes and the twelve things I was supposed to do today and didn’t and try to tell you about my weekend.  Which was enlightening. Kinda.

Going into the weekend I had some social plans with friends (an evening out, a tentative brunch, maybe a movie) a first date with a guy I’d met online and spoken to a couple of times, and even plans to get laid (YES, the fuckbuddy was back in town).  I also had stacks of client work to get to, a proposal for a new client to work on and tons of clean-up work related to the blog move. Work, work, work.

There was no way to get it all in.  Not even if I skipped on sleep.  Which I did.  So I passed on most of my social plans, staying in on Friday and Saturday nights to work.  And I cancelled my date.  I thought about it for a good long time and then decided that I just wasn’t excited enough about meeting the guy.  That when it came down to it, I’d rather have the couple extra hours to work or sleep (hair, make-up, clothes, travel time, date = about 2 hours on the short end I figured) than meet him.

I did, however, make the time for sex.  Sex is still a pretty high priority for me.

Sigh.

Thinking about it, I have to admit, makes me a little sad.  I feel like I’m regressing. I’ve been here before. In the “I don’t have time to date” place. It’s not a horrible place.  All my needs are being met. But there’s no hope here.  No hope of anything ever changing. Of anyone ever being there when I wake up in the morning.  And I, well, I miss having hope. If that makes sense. Hope is actually pretty important to me.  Maybe as important as sex. Maybe.

Anyway, I was supposed to have a date tonight – but I cancelled it.  I forgot about a work related commitment I had.  But come hell or high water I’m going to reschedule it because he seems like a decent guy.  And I do, actually, have a date scheduled for tomorrow night and I have no intention of canceling that. No matter how busy I get.

I said that my weekend was enlightening. Maybe that was too strong of a word.  But thinking about how busy and stressed out I’ve let myself get lately makes me realize that I’m going down a bad path.  I want to have the time to do the things that are important to me.  And dating is actually kind of important to me.  Oddly.

Not sure if any of that makes any sense.  I’m still pretty exhausted and strung out.  I’m sure I’ll find some time to schedule in a few hours of sleep some time later in the week.

Eventually we found each other (online, just like the others).  We met on a weekend afternoon at a busy Starbucks with people bustling all around us.  Somehow we found a place to sit and talk (we were both working that day, I remember, and the Starbucks was convenient to both of our offices).  We were immediately attracted to each other and fell into a natural, flirty chatter.  He could have easily been a friend of a friend, someone I was introduced to at a party and spent some time talking to just because I found him interesting.

We were looking for the same thing but for very different reasons.  He’d been living with the same woman for a number of years and from the beginning theirs was an open relationship.  He had his playmates and she had hers.  Adding to the open nature of their relationship was the fact that they both travelled extensively for work and it wouldn’t be unusual for one of them to be away for a long while.

And I was still in my not ready for a boyfriend mode.  I was still mad at the universe and on top of that I was working harder than I ever had before, rarely making it home before 9 on weeknights and working every Saturday. There was no space in my life for a new relationship.

I was and am comfortable with the fact that he has a girlfriend.  I don’t see this as an issue, even though other people are constantly telling me it is.  What we have doesn’t detract from their relationship.  I’m just extra. And as I have no interest in having more with him.  This situation is perfect for me.  We have continued to see each other for several years with many periods where we didn’t see each other for months at a time because either I was in a relationship or one of us was out of town.

There are issues. We both had crazy schedules (still do) that made us unreliable “buddies” at best.  I have cancelled on him more than once.  And he’s cancelled on me more times than I can count.  His cancellations usually have to do with travel and work schedules. And yes, I believe him when he sends a text saying that his flight has been cancelled, etc.  Why wouldn’t I? I’m pretty mellow about stuff like that because I’ve been there.

A week or so ago, when I started this series, I got a message on twitter from a reader asking me if I kissed my fuckbuddy.  I answered that, of course I did.  It would be uncivilized not to.  And that’s the thing.  We work well as fuckbuddies because he’s someone I completely enjoy kissing and fucking and spending a little time chatting with, but who I don’t have romantic feelings for. Someone I will never pine for, no matter what.  If he could never see me again, I’d miss the sex, but I’d be fine with it. No hurt feelings.

Anyway, I promised you coherent lessons.  A summary of sorts:

• Be sure you really want a fuckbuddy.  Really.  A fuckbuddy isn’t a substitute/almost boyfriend/girlfriend. Rather, it’s someone to have sex with.  Maybe until you meet a bf/gf, if that’s what you’re seeking.  Perhaps this is too subtle a difference for some people to process, but there is a very big difference
• Recycling exes can be OK or awful.  If he was a douche while you were dating then chances are he’s not someone you want as a fuckbuddy (no matter how awesome the sex was).
• It is absolutely possible to meet a fuckbuddy online.  LIke anything else, it’s about going after what you want and being focused on it.
• Create a profile that’s specifically for the task.  Be picky and cautious.
• I found it helpful to make it clear that I wasn’t interested in hooking up with anyone the day we met. That eliminated a lot of guys that I was happy to eliminate.
• Be aware that there’s probably going to have to be some trial and error involved.  In other words, not every guy you sleep with is fuckbuddy material.  Drop the ones that don’t cut it and move on. This is about sexual satisfaction, after all.  And yes, this means sleeping with a few different guys to find the right one. I realize that sounds unbelievably slutty to some people.  So what?
• I need to actually like, as a human being, the person I’m having occasional sex with.  I’ve tried overlooking this fact and it just doesn’t work for me.  I might have saved myself some time and awkward moments if I’d realized this up front.
• If I was ever again in a situation where a fuckbuddy asked me out on a date, I’d probably say no.

I’m trying to be as honest, and helpful, as I can be with this How To Find a Great F*Buddy Series. I didn’t just want to give you a neat little list, but rather show you just how long and hard a path it was for me. I’m hoping that each post has a lesson in it (for the keen observer). And in the end (tomorrow, btw) I’ll wrap it all up with a neat little bow (summary/list).

But before I can do that I need to own up to some stuff I left out. I didn’t leave anything out because of shame or embarrassment (clearly not, look what I’ve admitted to). No, as usual, my crappy memory is failing me and I’m not able to remember exactly when certain things happen. I can’t even remember roughly when.

I do know there was a guy I met and liked and we hit it off and I thought he was a definite candidate. But then he called me and asked me to accompany him to a sex club. And I told him that that wasn’t my scene (not making judgments against anyone else, it’s just not my thing – especially not then as being seen at a club would have put my job in jeopardy). And then I never heard from him again.

And there were the few times that me and my ex (the one I didn’t/don’t work with sexually) decided to “try again” and ended up naked and frustrated and depressed. Because I didn’t want a new boyfriend, but in the beginning of this journey (for the first many months, at least) I still wanted things to magically work out with him. And they couldn’t, of course.

The one thing I didn’t do was mess with any of my male friends. I thought about it (believe me, I thought about everything). But I was 100% sure that I didn’t want to screw up any of my friendships. And I was equally sure that adding sex into the mix would be sure to do that.

So month after month, for I don’t remember how long, I continued on my search for a fuckbuddy. Some random guy I didn’t know well, would never know well, to have sex with occasionally and nothing more. And it eventually worked out.

It was winter. That I’m certain of. And I’d just gotten a promotion at work which meant even longer hours and more stress. I half considered giving up my search for a fuckbuddy and just giving in to a life of celibacy, at least in the short-run, but I’d figured I’d try for a little while longer (I’m nothing if not tenacious).

The next guy I remember meeting (there may have been a few more harmless duds in the line-up) is “Smiley”. I very distinctly recall meeting Smiley in a bar, rather late one night. I’m guessing that because I was working 6 days a week at the time it was hard for me to schedule a coffee date. I might have just given up and said let’s meet for drinks after work (and I usually worked really late).

Anyway, Smiley and I had completely electric chemistry in the bar and even engaged in some inappropriate PDA. It was late and time to go, at which point he tried really hard to get me to go home with him. I was tempted (very tempted) but said no. I suggested he call/email me to schedule a time for us to get together.

And then he emailed over a month later. I replied with a no. That was just too long to wait. Too much like, all my other one night stand attempts worked out for the past month and now I’m finally getting to you. Ick.

But then I heard from him again a few days later. And then again, a few days later. So more like his latest flame ended. Whatever, I hadn’t met anyone better and so I invited him over to my place one Sunday.

And the sex was dreadful. Dreadful in a very specific way. He was one of those guys who has lots of anger issues. Who doesn’t smile during sex and for whom sex is/seems a bit like a violent act (I’m not talking kinky or s & m; I’m just talking about straight out violent/aggressive behavior). Which I guess wouldn’t be dreadful for some women. But I kinda need my guys to smile. To seem like they are experiencing joy. To not have the facial expressions of a psychopath kicking a puppy.

Afterwards, he seemed happy as a clam and I continued to hear from him with requests to get together for months after that. At first I replied that I was too busy. Then I just stopped replying. I figured it was better that way. I just wanted him to stop trying. He knew my phone number and where I lived and frankly, he gave me the creeps.