Hello Again

Hi Everyone!

Its been a long time - so much has happened in the year since I last posted!!! I am not sure where to start, so I am going to start from the very, very beginning - this is a post I wrote on the first version of this blog that I think many of you didn't see. Much more to come! xo

2011

The road to my sexual awakening was a varied one, starting with a lot of first (and sometimes only) dates. There was Jay, the silver haired adventure tour guide from Napa who called me the day after our first date to "ask me out" again - we met at a clandestine hotel in American Canyon and he encouraged me to sit on his face while he gave me the best head I've ever had in my life.

Then there was Connie. I call him this because, during our first date, when I asked him to tell me five weird or unusual things about himself (I started with my standard icebreaker list : I don't eat bananas, I never graduated from high school, I hate flip flops, etc), he saw fit to start with, "I spent time in prison". (Connie is my nickname for ex-con)

Now, to the average lady, this would been the perfect time to excuse herself to the bathroom and burn rubber out of there. To me, this tall, handsome, boyish yet rugged looking stranger went from a solid 9 to a full on Spinal Tap 11.

We talked for hours in that Berkeley restaurant, he told me about his stints in Corcoran and San Quentin, working on the forestry detail because of good behavior, the great things you can find sorting in the recycling center, the meth addiction and car theft that made him end up in jail. I was spellbound. As we walked around Berkeley after dinner, he asked if he could come home with me. Up until that point, I dialed *67 before every call (so these guys couldn't see my number), met up in hotels because I didn't want them to know where I lived, had phone buddies who I'd call or text at a specific time to let them know I was ok, etc. I was super protective. For some reason, I had the distinct feeling that Connie was a sweet, gentle soul. I said yes, but not before telling him that I would "fucking kill him if he tried any shit with me". He assured me that he wouldn't, and I made him give me a 15 minute head start as I raced home to *prepare* for the second part of my evening. He fucked me as if he'd just gotten out of jail that afternoon - wowee. He had a lot of energy. I could tell that we were doomed when, as we basked in the afterglow, making small talk and listening to music, he begged me to "Change this song. Please, put on anything else!" It was XTC's 1000 Umbrellas, one of my favorites. I knew we were not meant to be.

Cut to Jack, the confirmed bachelor who assured me there was zero possibility of any type of ongoing relationship, that he was only interested in the very occassional hook up. Perfect, right? I went to breakfast with him and his totally cute 4 year old son, went on many dog walks, had many phone conversations - this all took place before we ever had sex. When we finally did get around to doing it, he took off his clothes to reveal Homer Simpson boxer shorts. Again, it's the little things that can kill potential. I knew that I definitely had to end it when he tried to stash three bars of Irish Spring and a toothbrush in my bathroom -  "you know, for next time".

When I was 31, I entered in to a long term relationship with a man who thought was The One - he was handsome, kind, smart (a math teacher), plus I felt like I'd hit the sexual lottery. By the fourth month of dating, we were in couples counseling. About a year later he proposed to me, teary eyed and on bended knee, at a winery in Napa Valley - I said yes, because I didn't know how to say no in that situation. My only comfort was that I knew the wedding would never actually happen. I didn't know, however, that when we had sex in our hotel room that night,  it would be the last time for two + years...

A sexless relationship is a soul crusher. Add on top of that a partner that blames you, calls you needy and clingy, labels you as having an "anger problem", constantly points the finger of blame at you for everything that is wrong in the relationship and you can see how a girl would emerge a bit twisted.

It took a long time to get on my feet. As I look back on it, I compare my relationship with M to a slingshot - when I was with him, I was pulled way back in the sling. Once we broke up, once I was free - the sling was let go, and I've been on this forward trajectory, arcing and reaching heights, both personally and professionally, that I never could have achieved while with him. Although I that period of my life was one of the darkest, I am grateful for it - it gives me a very clear vision of what I do not want to ever experience again.

Last November, I responded to an ad on Craigslist of a guy (I'll call him George) who was looking for a fuck buddy - he described himself as tatooed, alternative, a working class full time dad who was looking for a no strings attached bang on a regular basis. As we first began to communicate, I found that we hit it off - we actually worked at the same school, but at different times (small world, huh?), had similar interests - it was a good start. We met first near the Sutro Baths (which, incidentally, was the first time I'd seen them despite having lived here for 21 years), then we met for dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant in Oakland. The day before we met up, he'd jokingly asked me in an email if he should bring a change of clothes with him for work the next day after our date. I said no - that he could come over and fuck me, but he couldn't spend the night because I wasn't a whore. It was at that moment I knew that the A that had been lost was now found. I got my mojo back.

George was the perfect segue for me - he was attentive and appreciative and made me feel sexy, he made me feel like having sex, he helped me remember how much I like sex and how seductive and sultry I can be. That I am not needy or clingy, but in fact independent and self assured. Confident, even. He and I were regular fuck buddies until January 24, 2011, when I went on that fateful first date with S. Having learned my lesson from the past, I recognized knew that George was not *exactly* what I wanted, he was more of a means to an end. My intuition told me to break it off with him, and see where things would go with S. As it so often is, my intuition was right.