All the feels

So I have taken a (good) while to write this post, considering this happened in June / July. I’m not sure why I took my sweet old time as I am no longer confused, or have big feelings, but it has given me a lot of food for thought.

You might remember the Poker Player. The one that postponed his flight for me and who I thought was the one, albeit for a little while. After six months of very occasional keeping in touch, he was back in the country. How did I find out? Through Facebook. That’s right, he didn’t tell me. Imagine this. It was a Friday afternoon, I was bored at work and basically waiting for five o’clock to hit so I could jump in my friend’s car and get over the foodtruck festival that was happening in my favorite city. On top of that; it was a lovely summer day. As I was scrolling through my feed, I all of a sudden see a ‘Poker Player is attending…’ Yup, he apparantly was in the country and planning on being there. I stared at it, then panicked. I had come to work without make-up, and my hair was tied up because I hadn’t washed it. I couldn’t possibly face him like that. And face him I would. The festival was in a small park where if you knew anyone, you’d for sure run into them.

After a quick, heated consult with my co-workers, I decided to jump into the showers at work and at least do my hair. My boss was in a meeting, and I had twenty minutes left. I don’t think I have ever been so fast, but at least I felt better about myself. On the way, in the car, finally, my friend nearly pissed herself when I told her. But lo and behold; it only took fifteen minutes to spot him.

My stomach sank. As much as I had wanted to see him, I realized he had never told me, so he didn’t care enough for me to know. But there he was, as hot as I remembered him, and I hadn’t washed my hair for nothing. I pointed him out to my friend, and then casually strolled over there, did a ‘surprised’ double take, and asked him what the hell he was doing there. (I deserve an Oscar for that). I immediately got a big hug and three kisses. He introduced himself to my friend, drank half my glass of wine and seemed genuinely pleased to see me. We chatted for a few minutes before his friends dragged him away, and that was that. No see you laters, nothing. My friend was ecstatic. She absolutely adored him. She doesn’t adore anyone.

All through the night we’d occasionally run into each other, squeeze an arm, or just smile. My friend added fire to the fuel by telling me he seemed so pleased to see me. On my way home, I texted him that this country might be a little too small, but that it’d been nice to see him. He was slow to respond, but when he did he asked me to come to the bar with him and his friends. By that time I’d reached home. Too little too late.

Though the next day he asked if he could come by to ‘see my house’. I’m not an idiot, but the prospect of spending a couple of hours with him seemed great. Living in the moment and stuff. The past had taught me not to expect anything from him, so I knew that this was all I’d be getting. I could decline to protect myself, or I could just go with it and enjoy whatever time we’d have. I chose the latter.

He came, we talked about stuff big and small, mostly big as usual. He again started the talk on no relationships and what not. Old news, and I didn’t need warning. Once we started fooling around a bit, he suddenly got up and said he had a surprise. He took off his shirt, and said he’d been working hard at the gym. It was adorkable, and I had to hold back a smile. I just appreciated the muscle instead. We spent the next few hours in bed, which was highly enjoyable, as usual. With one hiccup. In the heat of the moment, a split second before he’s about to enter me, he again announces that he has a surprise. My mind went blank. What the hell kind of surprise could you have, at that moment in time? Well, this one: he had gotten tested and he was clean. I was a little flabbergasted, but told him I hadn’t tested in a while. He took the risk, with my approval. Truth be told, I haven’t had a man come inside me in a decade, because I’m not on the pill. I had forgotten what it felt like. And what a mess it is. When he left, at the end of the afternoon, I watched him walk down the street, and accepted that he’d be walking out of my life. I felt okay about it. The fact I went for drinks with a friend shortly after helped. He left for the US a few days later, the only contact we had was me texting him that my tests had gotten back okay.

Fast forward to six weeks later; he was back. I knew he’d  be as he has to fly through in order to go home. He always takes some time to visit family and friends. I didn’t want to text or call him, which he didn’t either and mildly irritated me. A few days after he returned, I saw him on a dating site. With a full copy of his passport. It was such an idiot thing to do that I messaged him to take it down. We spent the majority of the evening chatting. Things got pretty deep and personal, yet remained at the surface. Sounds weird, I know. He then said he would make time to come see me.

He texted me two days later, while I was at a work dinner. I told him I wouldn’t be home before ten. He said that was fine and we’d be in touch. Long story short; he showed up at eleven thirty, just as I was about to lock the door and call it a night. I knew this was a booty call, but I wasn’t so impressed with that. We chatted for a little while, I showed him the house I bought (of which he knew exactly where it is) and he told me about his trip. Naturally we had sex. It was so good I tried (and succeeded) not to cry. For some reason that orgasm came with a release of some other stuff. Part of me knew that this would be it. It might be the last time I’d ever see him, feel this way and knowing I’d had to let go. He didn’t notice, it was dark and we didn’t speak.

At one thirty in the morning, he looked at the clock and said he had to go. I asked if he was fucking kidding me. He came up with excuses about having to bring the car back and not being able to take out his contacts. I was pissed. To me, that was poor manners and disrespectful. We’d know each other too long to be pulling that shit off. He left regardless.

The next day I was still unamused, told him that and purposely let it escalate. For a friends with benefits arrangement, I need some kind of human, friendly, non-sexual contact to balance out the hooker feel. He wasn’t even telling me he’d be leaving the next day. That’s how much he cared. While he understood my points, he stressed that he’d been clear. He had, and that was not the issue at hand. We agreed to disagree. I told him that if he ever came back, it would to come from him, but that I was not going to run after him again. We said a temporary goodbye.

And that’s the story of the Poker Player. I learned a thing or two from him. (That at thirty two, I’m too old to rely on morning after pills, for one). Yes, he’s full of himself, but there’s something about him that draws me in. It’s easy to get lost with him. But, after all that, I have not felt sad. Closing it off like that was a good thing. He’s back next month, and I intend on keeping my word. I have no desire to get in touch, but we’ll see how that goes when he’s physically here. I don’t think he’ll do it either, I gave him shit after all. At this point in time, I am alright with that. A year ago, I had thought he might be the one, but I was wrong. And that’s okay.

If you made it to the end of this monstrous post; I applaud you!

Roadblocks

I have struggled a bit (a lot) trying to find inspiration and motivation to blog again. Have you noticed? I feel like lots happened, and nothing happened at the same time. It’s been five months since my last post, and while I never stopped dating completely, I did take it very easy. It’s been a summer of festivals, parties and there have barely been weekends that were not planned completely full. And, I’ve bought a house in another city! Especially that one feels huge to me. It (I thought) meant having to make a final decision between settling down and continue to travel the world. Only a few weeks ago I realized one does not cancel out the other. So I made a big commitment, but I feel like it will force a much needed change.

The biggest reason I didn’t feel motivated to write was because nothing changed, and I felt like I had not progressed even a little. I am still single, got frustrated, disappointed and even upset all over again. I spent a lot of time thinking about the whole dating thing, all things I’ve written about before here. My Facebook feed is flooded with engagements and marriages this summer. People flutter from one relationship to the next and I’m still where I was five months ago. But sometimes, just sometimes I am quite pleased with that, especially when I remember to have fun with it. But a lot of times I get a little bummed, when I haven’t managed to overplan my weekends and I sit alone on a Friday night. I think we all know how that feels. FOMO, anyone?

Anyway, it’s not like nothing happened at all. There’s a few things worth mentioning just because they’re good stories.

During the heatwave this summer, I set up a date with swimming pool guy. He had a pool in his backyard. I saw possibilities, try and blame me. We went back and forth a bit and settled on a swimming date only a date later. Not in his pool, but we went to a lake close by. He came and picked me up by car which is something I normally wouldn’t do, but I could not muster the thought of riding my bicycle in the heat. We both brought stuff to fill a picknick basket, and off we went. We found a quiet spot, took off our clothes and jumped in. I didn’t really care getting in bikini on a first date. Conversation was easy, yet at times a little awkward. He wasn’t much of a talker. When we finally made out I found out he wasn’t a great kisser, but to be honest, I just wanted to get laid. So we got dressed, he got a good look, and I made him drive back to my house.

We skipped etiquette, stumbled onto my balcony, and got naked pretty quickly. When he asked if I wanted to take my panties off myself or if he could rip them off, I told him to do it. I wasn’t wearing anything special. I was not disappointed, he was very rough about it. It didn’t take him long to figure out what turned me on. He put his hands around my neck, and there wasn’t much I wouldn’t let him do. We took it inside where he went all out. The fact that it was so freakishly hot added to the whole dirtiness of it. We were both drenched in sweat, not in the least place because we took hours. More specifically, he took hours. HOURS. And then he didn’t, and I was over it a little. It was three in the morning, and I had work the next day. He didn’t seem to mind much, we jumped in the shower, and he asked if he could stay.

We had a quiet breakfast in the morning (which I made him, why?!) and then took off. When he texted me later, he said that he thought the sex was amazing, and fantastic and hot and he’d like to see me again for that, but that he didn’t feel a spark. I told him I was fucking tired of people yakking about sparks. That I was sure he had enough ladies in his contact list to fuck, but that I wasn’t going to be one of them. I was tired of being good enough only to fuck, and at that point I didn’t want to be another fuckbuddy. Looking back now I could have kept him on, but I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t want to do that anymore.

So I’m back again, continuing to be in good spirits I hope! It feels like I’m always talking to someone, one of these days it has to happen right? I am leaving the best story for the next blog. I’ve been super high and super low on that one, but it’s a long story.

She’s back

I’ve been gone for a while! (If you noticed) First because fuck all was happening, and later because my grandfather passed away. However, I’d like to think I’m back on track!

Nothing really happened over the past two months; I went on one or two dates (equally boring) and I gave up on it for a little bit. When even your Tinder dies out, it’s time to cut your losses. That being said, last week I was ready to jump into it, and started off with two dates.

Date number one was with an actor. I didn’t know of him, but when I googled him, he sure looked familiar. Turns out he won a few awards at Cannes last year, so there you go. It didn’t make me nervous, but I did wonder if I’d be able to tell if he’d be able to act his way through the date. We went for drinks, and had an overall pleasant evening. I was taken a little aback when he took a phone call, though he asked if it was okay and apologized later. It was one of those dates where you have no idea of the other person is into you. We have been in touch since, initiated by me, and when I asked if he was up for another one he said yes, but yet I haven’t heard back on his availability. Guess he wasn’t into it after all.

The other one was with a potential new friend with benefits. I haven’t had one (or sex!) for a while, so I opened up auditions. I had told him beforehand I’d be on my period so the sex part would have to wait a bit, but he was fine with drinks. He was thirty-five minutes late. I had just finished my drink and was gathering my things to leave when he walked in. While he was apologetic, I felt a little bitchy about it. I’ll blame it on period hormones. Also, he smoked, and he was a little thinner than I usually preferred. It took me a while, but eventually I loosened up a bit, and we managed to have a nice evening. He paid the full bill and took me back all the way to the trains, so he was actually more of a gentleman than any other date I have been on lately. I am seeing him on Wednesday to see if he meets the high standards he’s set for himself!

So I guess I’m back in the game. I’m not ecstatic about it, as we all know, but I’m stubborn.

He called me a bitch. Sort of.

I went on (yet another) Tinderdate last week. He’d been nice to chat to, but a day before our date, confessed to me he was still living with his ex, and asked if that put me off. I told him that it depended on the situation, but for now, no. To be honest, normally that would definitely put me off, but I told myself that it would only be an issue if I ended up liking him. And, given my track record, that’s what probably would not happen.

He came, through the storm, and we went for a drink. Immediately when he walked into the bar, I knew. Nah. I wouldn’t be interested. He looked a bit older than his pictures, was bald (though I should have known since he wore hats in all of his pictures) and while he looked friendly in those pictures, I found him to be quite harsh. He had strong opinions about everything. His job. The people in it, people around him. He asked me loads of questions, I in return, did not ask him about his ex. He wasn’t interesting to me and I knew I wasn’t going to see him again, so there was no point in collecting that sort of information.

Somehow we got to talk about differences between men and women, how they fight, and then he asked me if I was one of ‘those unreasonable women’. I sure am. ‘So you’re kind of a bitch then?’ I think my eyebrows touched my hairline, and he knew he’d gone too far as he physically moved back a few inches. In all fairness, if it comes with a good joke I wouldn’t mind much, but he was dead serious. Not cool.

I ended it shortly after, using the getting up early for work excuse, and saw him off. And deleted him shortly after.

So, another unsuccessful date. I have to admit I’m getting a little tired of the dating. I like meeting new people, I don’t mind spending money on a drink here and there, but at the same time it is discouraging. At the moment, I’ve got nothing in the pipeline, and that’s ok. It’s a scary thing to admit, because I don’t want to be alone. I’ve been alone for thirty one years (give or take a few short lasted flings) and I don’t want to die alone. But all of my effort is not paying off.

It always makes me think of my (in my mind) almost fifty year old flute teacher when I was twelve. She was probably a lot younger. But, she was single, and lived alone. In my twelve year old mind, that was a horrible, sad, lonely thing. And to this day, I tell myself I don’t want to be like her. But I’m getting there, and that freaks me out.

New dawn, new year

And so here we have it; another year spent single went by. So so many dates have come and gone I can’t even keep track. None of them have stuck. Well, for the long run that is. I’ve met a few men that rocked my world for a little while, but nothing lasted. There’s been quite a few fellow bloggers that got engaged or even married, and in real life people are finding their soul mates left and right. Dating has never been easier with apps like Tinder, and yet, after a year of full on dating, I haven’t managed to find someone. As I told someone else earlier this week; I am the only constant. There were men that were into me, I believe that I could have been settled by now and yet, I refuse anything less than a hundred percent. Maybe by the end of this year I’ll look at it differently, maybe I’m looking in the wrong places.

But enough of that; here is the yearly list:

Number of weddings attended: one (my younger brother)

Number of funerals attended: none

Number of babies born: one (I’m an aunt!)

Number of dates I went on: countless

Number of sex partners I had: six

As for the regular updates; I went on a second date with the guy I saw the day before New Year’s Eve. When I texted him to ask if he was interested, he jumped on it and wanted to see me the next day. That wasn’t gonna happen, so we settled on Sunday. After a lot of back and forth, I went to his place. I had proposed drinks, but all of a sudden he wanted a day date, wanted to come to my town but after I told him there’s nothing here on a Sunday, he said he had to be back home by nine anyway, and he just wanted to spend an afternoon cocooning. Alright then. I decided to go to his instead, for some reason I did not want him in my house yet. So off I went through the storm. When I got to his place he greeted me with a kiss, made me tea and made small talk. Like last time, he was very calm and quiet. I was a little disappointed, I’d hoped he’d be a bit more alive. We  hung around on the couch for a bit, made out and he quickly wanted to move things to the bedroom. Literally within twenty minutes of me getting there. While I’m happy to report the sex was a bit better, he still didn’t last very long. We got naked pretty quickly, and before I’d even touched him he provided me with an orgasm with his fingers. I could tell he was ready to go but I wasn’t gonna have another super speedy session. But when I went down on him, I literally bobbed up and down twice, maybe thrice before he told me to stop or he would come. I obliged, stalled him a little longer, but then he made an attempt to go for it without condom. That wasn’t happening. He got the message, found one, and did me in missionary until he came, which didn’t take very long and happened in silence. It wasn’t weird, or particularly bad, but I like my men a bit more active, a little less vanilla and to last a bit longer. I don’t know if he takes a long time getting used to someone, or if this is as good as it gets.

He went to prepare dinner, and I took a long time dressing. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt. Yes I knew what he’d wanted, but it was the first time I didn’t really feel good about it. Was this really what I wanted? When I got myself together he was cooking, and I finished my tea, which was (mind you) still warm. Lukewarm, but still. He didn’t say much. I didn’t say much. It wasn’t terribly awkward, it was more a calm, serene thing and he might be the type that doesn’t mind sharing his personal space. It was like we’d been married for ten years. And so we had dinner, I helped him pick up a lamp for his bedroom, and he wanted to watch a movie, some action flick I wasn’t really interested in, but okay. I wondered if I should leave. I didn’t. I waited until the end. We had a glass of wine, and he still wasn’t very talkative. I’ve never had such a weird date. He’s attractive, has his shit together, I’m sure he’s got plenty stuff to talk about, but whenever we talked, his answers weren’t very elaborate, and not getting anything in return, you kind of give up. I finished my wine and told him I was gonna go. He saw me out with a kiss, and I left pretty abruptly. On my way home I couldn’t help myself but text him I hoped for his travel buddies he was gonna be a bit more talkative, or if he reserved that just for me. He texted back the next day saying sorry, he had been tired, and had had a really good time. Really? doesn’t take a lot more than sex I guess. He’s gone on a skiing trip now, and I hope he gets over that fatigue of him. Weird shit.

On New Year’s eve, I went clubbing with a few girlfriends. Nothing interesting there, but I did receive a few texts from the poker player. During the day where he wanted to say happy new year and we had a little catch up, and then he texted me in the middle of the night, calling me hot stuff and all. Kinda made my night, how pathetic.

Also, Couch guy asked to go on a second date. I told him I’d be busy for a few weeks and would have to let him know. Really don’t know about him, and I’d say I’ve had my fair share of weirdness.

I’ve got a few more dates lined up this week and so help me God I am telling myself sex is not an option. Though, the fact I closed and started the year sex wise with the same guy, should hopefully be a good omen. Or something.

Mediocrity

I had been meaning to write a final post before the year ended, but the truth is I spent the last two weeks either drunk or hungover. I don’t work between Christmas and New Year’s, so naturally it was spent socializing. I’m paying the price for it today! Sick and back to work tomorrow. Anyway. I normally write one post per date, but wanting to wrap it up I will include all three I had over the last fourteen days.

The first date I had was with a guy from Tinder (of course). We met for drinks and got along fairly well, and while he ticked all my physical appearance boxes, hipster beard, undercut, tall, I hated his smile. That sounds terrible, but when he smiled, he looked like a six year old boy. He was much more attractive when he put his serious face on. He’d been married at the age of twenty five and divorced by twenty eight, and has a history of depression. All things I could live with, though the depression part would worry me. It was getting pretty late, and he said I could sleep on his couch if need be. The prospect of sex still sounded pretty good to me, so I agreed. When we got to his place, I was thoroughly impressed. He lived right downtown but away from the noise, and had a very stylish masculine apartment. Very industrial, but with a few cool touches like a rope swing in the living room. Impeccable taste. And then he said ‘I will go get a pillow and covers for you.’ I stood there, utterly flabbergasted. What guy lets a women he brings home sleep on the couch?! When he got back into the room, he looked at me and kind of seemed at loss for what to do or say. But by that point, I was angry and done. I have an excellent, expensive bed at home and somehow I got suck on this guy’s couch. I told him to go to sleep, got out my phone and ignored him. He left. I typed out the story to my friend so she’d have something fun to read when she’d wake up, and I settled on the couch. Then ten minutes later, he comes back into the room, scurries around, grabs my coat and goes to the balcony to smoke. I pretended to be asleep. He’d missed his window of opportunity. Before I fell asleep, I decided to sneak out in the morning. When I woke up at nine, he was still sound asleep in the bedroom. But when I picked up my phone, I saw he had sent me a message saying he’d had a good time half an hour after we’d gone to sleep. I mean. for fuck’s sake. He’s sleeping ten meters away in the other room and he sent me a fucking text?? So I snuck out. Hours later he messaged me he hadn’t noticed my leaving. I pretty rudely replied that that had been my intent, and that no one had ever made me sleep on the couch, ever. He confessed he never meant for me to accept the couch, but he was too drunk to turn that situation around. A man that is not assertive enough to get a woman to sleep in the same bed with him is a no go for me.

Date number two was with a musician, one that actually looked like my musician ex as well. He came to my town for drinks and when I saw him, I thought he was alright, but another one of those too sweet. The night was alright, he ended up missing his train so came home with me. We were both ridiculously drunk. As in when we got home, we had to sit on the floor and try to drink water. We tried to have sex. As in, he tried, but had had too much to drink to get it up. He did a stellar job in sixty-nine so I’ll forgive him for it, but the next morning I wanted him to leave. He told me what a great time he’d had about four times. Don’t like that. I’m not here to validate you. Also, once is enough. It creeps me out. Thankfully he left at nine, texted me again to say the same thing and did it again on Tinder(!) the next day. I let him down gently a few days later.

Date number three was on the day before New Year’s eve. It was a spontaneous one, I was being challenged on my being impulsive, so I had to prove it. I went to his city for drinks, and when I walked in I was relieved that this one was finally attractive to me. He seemed to be a bit awkward in the beginning, but he had a good smile and was eloquent. We went on to the next bar, and I found out he lives in one of the fanciest areas, has paid off his apartment in full, has quit his job and money wise, is able to sit on his ass for the next year. He’s thirty two. I was impressed. As the night went on, I caught him on a few yawns. After about an hour of that, I told him I was gonna go home. Either he was tired or bored. He was tired, but promised to switch to water because he didn’t want me to go. So we had a few more drinks, and eventually went home. We hadn’t even made out. His apartment was huge. And fancy. He gave me champagne. Eventually we made out on the couch and took it to the bedroom. We fooled around for a bit and before I knew it, he’d put on a condom. Not even sure if he was fully hard but before I knew it, it was over. I think it lasted shorter than ten minutes. He took care of me afterwards, but I was a little surprised, though I hid it. I hope the alcohol was to blame, and I also thought I smelled a hint of weed on his beard. We fell asleep, or he did, and I found out he’s the cuddling kind. Yay. The next morning I made the mistake of going to the bathroom and when I came back, he was dressing. No morning sex. Crap. It was a little awkward, so I didn’t stay for breakfast, though we’ve been texting a bit, so he might be a little interested. I might go and find out this week.

So that’s how I wrapped up the year. I’d say having sex on the last day of it would be a good omen for this year, but at the same time I am done with mediocre dates and worse, mediocre sex.

And then let’s not forget about my poker player. He’s still on my mind. A lot. We texted a bit two weeks ago, I asked him how his move was going, he replied with a photo essay including a photo of his dad. I should probably, at some point, tell him he’s on my mind. Just casual like that. I’d like him to come back, I want to see him again. I want to know if he thinks of me.

He postponed his flight

So I’ve taken a while to give you an update on the poker player I’ve had such a fantastic first date with. In a way I was hoping to write something conclusive. But; off we go.

When he texted me the day after our date, I took it as a sign of interest, and I was quite pleased. The next few days we went back and forth and I quite quickly asked him if he wanted to go out again before he’d go home. I was under the impression he’d leave pretty soon, so I felt like I had to act pretty quickly. He said yes, he’d like to see mee again, but that he would have to let me know. He was in a tournament he didn’t know how long would last, and he’d have to visit friends and family. All valid reasons. We kept in touch, his tournament ended after four days (or; he bombed), he went off to see his family, and things went quiet for a bit.

I messaged him a few days later, to which he replied saying he had been thinking about me. I might have blushed. But then we somehow steered back to Tinder, and he told me he had two more dates lined up this week. Thank God I wasn’t ignorant enough to confirm with him that I was one, though I did think that for a few moments. It stung a little. After his first date that week, he messaged me that he liked me better. I asked him if he was going to have time left to see mee. And I got ‘I think I have unconsciously been delaying going home because I want to see you again.’ I melted. We settled on a dinner date for Saturday.

He came to pick me up from the train station again, gave me a kiss, and off we went. Before dinner, we went to have a drink first. It was easy, simple and just like last time. I was happy to be with him, and it was so comfortable I wondered if this was what it should always supposed to be like. He was hungry for steak and so we went to a tiny little restaurant. He took my hands across the table to warm them. I had been meaning to ask him things. Like why he was dating in a country he wasn’t in most of the time. Or if I should attach any meaning to the fact he had been delaying his flight for me. Because of some of the things he’d said while texting I wanted to find out if there was some sort of interest there. But before we got there, the check came and the moment was gone. We did get to me telling him nine out of ten times I would go home at the end of the date. Not necessarily true, but I pointed out I had to like someone in order to do that. He said he liked that. And then we had to leave. A missed opportunity on my end, but at the same time I had to keep reminding myself this was only date two. In real life, you don’t have those conversations at that point.

Out on the street, he grabbed my hand, pulled me in and kissed me. A tourist passed by and told us to get a room, making us laugh. We decided to go back to the same neighborhood we went to last time, even though it was a bit far away. So off we went, hand in hand like a regular couple on the lookout for cozy cafe’s. We found one, sat close together and talked. After two drinks, we left and repeated somewhere else. Every now and then we’d stop and make out a little. Shortly after midnight he wrapped his arm around me, said he knew a great place, namely his house, and off we went.

We shared a cup of tea to warm up, which of course quickly led to a making out and undressing session in front of the windows. He tried to carry me to the bedroom but gave up when he hit his head on the lamp. He dropped an ‘is this all for me?’ again, which makes me think he either says that to everyone, or he was genuinely happy. Anyway, the sex was good, he’s seriously packing, but I don’t think he realizes. We fell asleep afterwards, perfectly content.

Previously, he’d already told me we’d have to get up early as the house owner would be coming home and he didn’t really like visitors. I’d been hoping this person would change their mind, or poker player would forget, but unfortunately no. However, he’d been keeping an eye on it to make sure there’d be time for sex left. It was lazy, slow morning sex, in which his orgasm was perfectly timed with the alarm clock. We laid there for a while while his fingers were running up and down my back. I couldn’t help myself and told him it was a shame he’d have to go back, to which he didn’t really respond. That took away any courage I had about asking him when he’d be back.

We had a quick breakfast together, after which I left at about nine thirty. The goodbye was like last time, with a kiss and a bye. That night, I texted him I’d had a great time, enjoyed seeing him again and that it was a bummer he was leaving. (After we’d set our date, he’d bought his ticket for the day after). He said ‘Yeah it was! But all good things come to an end.’ I stared at it for a while. Really? I asked if I should be taking that literally. No, he didn’t mean it like that, but he did have to do some thinking when it came to women. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. Fair enough. Knowing he just came out of a relationship, would be moving out of their shared house once he got back and considering we’d only had two dates, what was there for claim for me?

I wished him a safe journey, best of luck moving and all, and told him to keep  on touch. And when he made his way back over here and had done some thinking, who knew? It sounded like a good plan to him.

I won’t lie and say I shed a tear. Dating for me never comes easy in the sense that either I don’t like them, or I do like them and they’re not into me, but that’s usually clear from the beginning and I’m not in the dark. This time, I’m very into him, and there is no denying there was mutual chemistry. There was. I know it, and not only because he told me, and not only because of that postponed flight. There was something there. And maybe the timing wasn’t right. Maybe he does need to do some soul searching. Maybe I’ve confused him and he wasn’t expecting this. Maybe none of this all and I’ve fallen for it, hard.

There is something about this man that makes me feel completely at ease. I haven’t felt this way in a long time and it’s scary. Not in the least because ever since he got back, I didn’t hear from him. So last night, I sent him a message. Told him the city was a bit less exciting, and hoped he’d get the sunny Christmas he wanted. He replied almost immediately. That yes, that had been a good time. Insert smiley heart emoticon. Then sent me a photo of his dad who was helping him move and gave me an update on how the move was going with pictures.

If anything I might be back in his mind, and when the dust settles in his end we’ll see what happens. I’ll send him a reminder of my existence every now and then. Had he lived here, the situation would have been different and easier. We’d continue dating and just see what’d happen. Because he lives relatively far away, that’t not an option. It made me feel like I had to force something, because what sane man would hang on to two dates? What is there to explore through whatsapp? You can’t build anything this way. That makes me anxious.

I thought I would take a bit of a break from the dating thing, which is what I usually do when someone managed to confuse me. I am not going to put all my money on poker player, reality is that the chance anything is going to happen there are slim. But the door isn’t shut. Not yet.

He sang to me.

I am blown away. Yup, you read it, a man has managed to blow me away.

Let’s call him the poker player. We matched on Tinder last Friday, which I was super happy about, because he’s hot. I sent him a short ‘yay!’ message, and we chatted for a bit that night. Then on Saturday afternoon, he asked if I wanted to come over and drink wine in a nice cafe. I wanted to. But I already had another date with a guy from OKC set up. He told me to cancel, because he was much more fun. I told him I’d need a really good reason, because that’d be awful for my karma. He said he’d love to stare into my eyes over wine and have a wander through the dark city. And I thought; ‘what the hell.’ So I cancelled my date, and agreed to meet him.

He came to meet me at the train station, and when I saw him, I got even more excited. I think he felt the same, he grabbed me, planted three kisses on me, and off we went. We went to a tiny little cafe, and never stopped talking until two in the morning. He’s a professional poker player, and does so well he doesn’t live in this country but on a sunny island somewhere (not too far) for tax purposes, though he’s here often. We connected on so many things, yoga, meditation, our views on life and relationship. He radiated such calm and was so down to earth I never wanted to leave.

The only thing, and I knew this since I had looked him up, is that he’s barely out of a long relationship. He’s been together (engaged even) for nine years, and only split six weeks ago. I also saw the message on Facebook, in which he said there were no fights, it was a mutual decision that after so many years they had to face the fact they were not meant to be. They’d always be friends and all that. Very mature. When he talked about it that evening, he was very mature and calm about it. Nine years is a long time, though that kind of decision isn’t usually made overnight. Before meeting, he had told me he was dating, and whatever happened, happened, but he might be rebounding for all I know. That’d make the most sense.

I am tempted to believe him, there was something different about him. Anyway, when one o’clock rolled around and he wanted to go get another drink I told him that I would love to stay, but that if he didn’t feel like being responsible for a place to stay for me, I would have to think about my trains home. He wanted me to stay. A little voice in the back of my mind told me that maybe I should go home if I liked him, I might get hurt, but as usual, I ignored it.

We finished our drink, and off we went. We walked to his friend’s place, where he stays, and he stopped me on a bridge to kiss me. There we were, in the middle of the night, kissing on a bridge. It was awesome. When we got into the apartment building, he noticed there was a roof terrace. We got a bottle of wine from the house, some cheese, and went back up. We drank wine, had some cheese, he sang to me. We kissed some more. At one point, he just looked at me and said ‘is this all for me?’ Very smooth. At one point, he mentioned that this town seemed like a much better place to be, all of a sudden.

Once inside, we sat on the couch, he put music on, and started making out. Obviously that pretty quickly turned into lots of nakedness. And good, good sex. He was hung, and circumcised (which is rare here). After that, we moved into his bedroom, cuddled, talked some more and after a while, he was ready again. By the time we went to sleep, it was five in the morning. But when I had to get up to go to the bedroom a little later, I noticed I had bled a little on the sheets. Fuck. I had just come off my period, so that wasn’t it. This was the second time this happened. Once I discovered that, I lay there stressing out for a good hour. Was I going to tell him? Was I not and be surprised when we saw it? Was I gonna bleed more? Should I sleep on my back? And, how would he react?

Eventually, I did fall asleep, and we slept until noon. Nothing happened. He woke me up massaging my back. Seriously. One thing led to another, and we had slow morning sex. Once he pulled back the sheets, he saw the stain, saw my face (I was still mortified), shrugged and said ‘we made a mess’. And proceeded to make out. After he came, we laid there forever. He said he’d come so good and was so relaxed he was tingling and seeing purple stars. We stayed in bed, I was on his chest, and he’d kiss my hair every now and then.

When we did get up, he made us breakfast, we ate it half naked and it wasn’t awkward at all. He put his sheets in the washing machine, set up his computers to work later, and we left the house together. I was going home, he was going to get groceries. So we had to say goodbye on the corner of the street. He gave me three kisses on the cheek, a peck on the lips, said ‘great date’, and then ‘bye.’ and turned around and left. I was a little taken aback by the abruptness of it. No ‘see you next time’, or ‘we’ll be in touch.’ I went home wondering if he was just very good at the game, if I looked differently in daylight, or if he just doesn’t do goodbyes.

Once home, I contemplated a plan of attack. I wouldn’t text him yet, I would give him time. I don’t think that after a serious relationship like he had, he wants to be crowded by someone wanting all sorts of things from him after a first date. So I talked it over with my friend, and went to bed, feeling a little weird about it. The goodbye was in such contrast to the date, and rather anticlimactic.

But when I woke up this morning, I woke up to a message from him. A nice one, too. He nicknamed me, said he had had a great date, then some about his Sunday, and a have a good workweek for me, ending with an x. We went back and forth a bit, I asked if the sheet got clean (it did) and that’s it for now. I don’t want to be on his case, I want to give him space. At the same time, I think he goes back to his island home some time next week, so I do plan on asking him to see if he’d like to meet up again before he goes.

The distance thing doesn’t bother me, but the relationship is a bit tricky. He is most likely not ready for anything at all. And here I am, feeling like this after only one date, and that never happens. It’s very likely I am going to get hurt. We will see how this goes; I am trying to manage my expectations and hope, though I really, really like this one.

Once you go black

I had two dates this week! The first one was with a guy whose hair was even redder than mine. Two pale people sitting in a bar… I met him at a super cute cafe. Lately I haven’t been so excited about dates anymore since I always wind up with guys that are nervous and find myself having to work hard to make them feel at ease. I’m tired of these type of dates. I like my men assertive. It seems like they are equal to fairy dust.

Anyway, the redhead was calm and easy to talk to, though he was nervous. He kept touching his face. We had a coffee with apple pie, switched to wine and got along just fine. His job isn’t super interesting, but he’s spent some time abroad as well. He keeps ordering drinks and while I’m not bored, my mind wanders off to the fact I still have to take a train home and I already know I’m not super interested in seeing him again, so I kinda want to get home. Once we call it a night, he actually pays the whole tab. That hasn’t happened in a while. Only two days later he sends me his phone number through a Tinder message, and I give him mine. He still hasn’t texted, so I’d be happy to accept we were just being polite.

Then I had a Tinder date last night. I was not excited about that one either, and even considered canceling a few hours before. He had come across a little needy, a few lame jokes… the works. But I went through with it. Happy I did! He was already at the bar when I arrived, and was better looking than I had been afraid of. His smile was fantastic, very boyish. We did a small pubcrawl, ran into a few colleagues of mine, which was too quick a meeting to be awkward, and when his last train home time was coming up I suggested he stay with me.

We went back to my place, had another wine for show and quickly moved to the bedroom. After we hurriedly undressed and he shoved his dick in my mouth it became very clear very quickly that the ‘once you go black’ saying was definitely true for this one. The man was huge. I’ve never seen a thicker dick. Foreplay was minimal, which I didn’t mind as his skills needed improving, and at that point I just wanted to get fucked. And did he. He was rough, hair pulling, choking and all. Good stuff. After a thirty minute break, he was ready to go at it again. He was going at it so hard I had to tell him twice I needed a minute. Also, because he took a super long time coming, and eventually didn’t. Guess the break wasn’t long enough.

After a bad night’s sleep, he was clingy which I only like if I’m into someone, we had another quickie. After a shower, I kind of ended it quite abruptly. It was clear we didn’t have much else to talk about. He was being super nice and I could tell he cared, but I am just not a happy chirpy person in the morning. If I like someone I want them to stay but if not, I get super awkward. He was a nice guy, and if he calls I’d go out with him again but if not, I’d be cool with that too.

He likes me part deux

And I don’t like him back. Could you have guessed?!

I went on a Tinder date a week and a half ago. He turned out to be another one hiding a babyface with a beard. Sigh. Also, he was very nervous, and it was the first thing he said once we met. Double sigh. Though when we went to have drinks and got through the initial awkwardness, he turned out to be a nice guy. Drinks eventually because dinner, but the second I agreed to it, I knew I shouldn’t have. He had his stuff together, was mature, stuff to talk about, and I wasn’t feeling it. I ended things pretty abruptly after dinner. It had been a whole four hours, way longer than I’d usually do if I’m not into someone.

Turns out he did like me, and texted me every single day, and had asked twice for a second date. I take hours replying if I’m not interested, but he didn’t pick up on it. Eventually I told him I didn’t want to string him on and that I didn’t want to continue dating. He was very disappointed. As in; ‘Ah man, I can’t believe it, I really liked you’. Insert sad smiley.

I want to like someone, I really do. But I don’t think it’s fair to go on another date with someone that’s obviously into me and then have to let them down after that. Better to hurt their feelings a little bit before that.

So what else have I got in the pipeline? Nothing. And that’s ok. There are men out there that like me, I just have to find the one I like in return.