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.

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.

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.

He likes me

And I don’t like him back. As usual.

After coming back from the China trip (which was a bitch) I reactivated some of my dating profiles, after promising myself to have more fun with it. So I went on a date with a Tinder guy I’d been chatting with for days. He’s an elementary schoo teacher, which I think is awesome, seemed funny and was physically attractive. He drove all the way to my town and when we met there was… nothing. From my side at least. He was nervous, and it took him a couple minutes to calm it down. And remember how with the bisexual Stud I casually thought he was just in touch with his feminine side? Well, with this one I blatantly wondered if he was gay and in denial. He was a little judgmental, he didn’t like my job nor my employer, he doesn’t travel, doesn’t read, doesn’t like cities and sometimes pinches kids. We had no issues chatting but I wasn’t feeling it. At all.And now he’s still happily texting me and I have to tell him it ain’t gonna happen. I have to. Karma and shit.

On Tuesday I’m supposed to see another Tinder guy for some adult fun, so that’s something at least! I just have to remind myself the world doesn’t revolve around men and that I should learn to be okay by myself. Some days are better than others obviously.

While in China, the Stud sent me messages now and then to say good luck or ask how it went. Pretty nice. He then mentioned he had to be in my city for a competition tomorrow. I offered him dinner and a place to stay and he accepted. And then yesterday, when I asked him what the plan was, he said he was still around for the competition, but couldn’t meet me anymore. He’d made plans to go right to his friend-chick up north as they are having a stand at a flea market on Sunday to fund a trip they were going on. Say what? I got ditched. I then found out the two of them went to see a show just a few days ago. So obviously he prefers her company over mine, spends a fuckload of time with her, and cannot even bother to come see me when he’s in my fucking city. And I thought the new girlfriend was gonna bother me. Oh sure, he did ask me if I am free one night next week. But to be honest, he doesn’t feel like such a good friend that I wonder if he’s worth the hassle. Two weekends in a row with this other friend that he cancels his plans with me for, but sure I can hop over for two glasses of wine before it’s time to go to bed. And yes, I know I need to let it go a little (anyone notice the contradiction?) but I might just have to reconsider the whole situation. I don’t like feeling second hand.

An Epiphany

I had one. Seriously.

Lately I had been irritated with the kind of men messaging me on OKCupid and my other paid website. Fifty year olds with pot bellies, balding thirty year olds and dirty forty somethings with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths and bad teeth. Did these men really think I was in their league? It upset me, even. (Which I find awful to admit because I’m really trying to be less judgy) Surely I could do better than guys like that.

But then, in some really clear moment, it hit me. Was I a female version of these men, trying to date outside of my league? Is that why my dating life has been shit lately? All these men either stop messaging after a few or not replying at all. All these men that I do not get past two dates with. Is it karma? I’ve left men hanging, not replied or even been rude. Maybe I’m getting what I deserve.

There must be something fundamentally wrong with me. There is. I’m a bitch. A lot of the time. I can’t deal with stupidity and flakiness. But instead of giving people a chance, I jump right at their throat. Especially men. And I probably look like it too. Even if someone were to be remotely interested, they’d back off at second glance.

Bottom line; I’ve got stuff to work on. I need to block men out of my life that are doing nothing but frustrating me, and I need to get my head clear. How can I find love if this is my state of mind? I am always envious of people that radiate calm, kindness and love. They are open, and people want to be around them. They’re always loved by someone. So if I want any of that, I need to change my attitude.

In a way my trip to China comes at the right time. Even though it is a work trip, I booked some holidays following, and perhaps I shouldn’t do anything but spend some time on myself and see if I can get things straight, at least in my head.

Rejection

The more rejections I receive, the more they seem to get to me lately. That Tinder guy I’d been chatting to for a few nights and was supposed to have a dinner/drinks date with today? The one I thought could finally be a normal date that I deserved? Well, I’m home, writing this, so that didn’t happen. I received a text message in the middle of the night saying ‘I’m going to be a total dick but need to be honest. Going home with someone so it doesn’t feel right to see you.‘ Well fuck me. Got rejected even before meeting. I replied that indeed he was a dick and happy fucking. It’s not that I care if he fucks someone at all, but if you’ve got a ‘project’ that you’re working on, you shouldn’t be on Tinder, let alone making actual agreements to date. I get so tired of this whole dating thing that is leading nowhere.

The fact that his rejection came while I was having drinks with the Stud also didn’t help. I had been looking forward to today’s date, even if only it made me feel adequate that I could do what he did. I needed to have something to look forward to.

So yeah, the Stud came to see me. True to form, he was late. I went to pick him up from the train station and we went to my regular bar. It didn’t take long for him to bring up his lady-friend. He told me he had almost lost his friendship with the other chick he’d been seeing over it, as she couldn’t handle the change in their relationship. She’d been ready to call the whole thing off, he wouldn’t let her. I told him I didn’t feel like he was doing the same for me. I told him I was really not cool with the way he told me by text messaging. I told him that because he chose to do it that way it put things in a new light for me. He didn’t care enough. He was a little taken aback, and said he hadn’t even realized that it would have some sort of impact and how it came across. No shit Sherlock. He then said there was another friend he’d had to tell, that he’d been friends with benefits with before me. They haven’t slept with each other in a year, but when he told her she was heart broken. It had really surprised him and while he understood, he also felt that he had been clear with her the whole time. I told him I was somewhere in the middle. I wasn’t heart broken, but I did take a good look at myself and my reaction that night. And yes, it had also crossed my mind that I wasn’t good enough. And that I wasn’t sure if we were friends. And then, I mentally shut the door. I didn’t care anymore. If we were friends, fine. He doesn’t like me that way and there is nothing I can do to change it. He told me some stuff he’s never told anyone, I told him about my fuck up with the ex last week, and it was all good. We now have stuff on each other I guess.

They’ve already talked about exclusivity, he’s met her child, he’s shown me her photo, and I kind of laughed at myself. If anything, I had been leading myself on. What’s left to do is redefine our friendship. We didn’t really talk about it, and I kind of wished we did, because I still don’t know what kind of friend he thinks I am, but well. I am off to China next weekend and decided that if nothing happens with anyone by then, I am deleting all my profiles. Dating (and the inevitable rejections) is making me harsh and bitter and it isn’t pretty.

The night I lost and gained my self-respect

First off; this shit’s embarrassing and I’ll be judged by a couple hundred strangers on the internet I don’t know. But, since my anonymity is still intact, off we go.

There’s an ex I have been in touch with sporadically ever since we broke things off. (You go figure it out). It turned out we happened to be partying in the same city last Friday. By the time we found out, he was already on his way home, and I was pretty much done. We however kept in touch since, and conversations got hotter and heavier. By Monday, things reached a climax.

We were gonna live out this fantasy we (mostly he) had been discussing. I was persuaded to go see him, a good hour and a half away from where I live. What he wanted was this; a whore. He wanted me on my knees, fuck my mouth until I choked, gag me and fuck me in the ass and spank me until I would be begging for mercy. He sent me pictures of what he’d do to me. They were explicit. He wanted me to bring toys. There is a lot in there I can go along with, if not everything. But I was missing two things, respect and empathy.

Sounds contradictory? Maybe. In the final hours leading up to this, he made a few things very clear. If I wanted this, I would come to him. He did not want to leave his house. I told him he would have to come pick me up from the train station, and also that I would need a ride in the morning. Initially, he did not want me to stay. He said there would be enough time to catch my last train home at eleven thirty at night. I refused. It was not until I told him I did not want to be thrown out on the street like a hooker and have to sit on a train for two hours in the middle of the night. Mind you, it was a Monday and I had work the next day. It was not until I pointed out any man with a shred of decency would not let a woman travel on a night train by herself for two hours that he succumbed. The other major roadblock was his unwillingness for cunnilingus. Literally. ‘I am not going to put my mouth on you’. I had actually heard this from him before, so was not majorly surprised. He made it clear I was there for his satisfaction and not mine. I had agreed to this, so I could not blame him. After all he said he was being honest about it. ‘I don’t care if you get off’.

In the heat of it, I accepted all of it. I knew he was a jerk, so I wasn’t very surprised. But as I had taken my shower and was on my bicycle to the train station, my heart started to sink a little. Did I really want this? Yes, I was horny for it, very much so, but he had demonstrated very little understanding for what I was about to do. While I waited for the first train, I contemplated turning around and going home. I could just not make up my mind. I wanted it. But did I want it for the right reasons? I was making a huge trip, really put myself out there, and for what? The train came, and I got on. I was torn and told myself there was still time to go back.

During that twenty minute ride, I waited for a sign. I was going to be fucked in every way imaginable, and would not be able to walk the next day. I would have a sleepless night, and would have to get up very early at that to make it to work in time. I was going to cancel on my yoga buddy. For a fuck. I got to the station, and needed to wait for another fifteen minutes for my connection. I texted him. ‘I am halfway and breaking out in cold sweats. Say something please.’ I needed him to say something nice, to reassure me it would be alright.

He did neither. He wanted to know what was wrong. I told him I couldn’t decide if I was doing the right thing. He sent me another explicit photo and proceeded to tell me I’d come halfway, what was the problem? Didn’t I want this? Hadn’t we talked about this? I told him the train had arrived and I had two minutes to get on. He said he wasn’t going to talk me into anything. If I wanted to come, I should, but he was cooking now.

The train left. I texted him. ‘I can’t do it.’ We went back and forth a bit. He wanted to know what the real issue was. I sent him a long text. I was afraid I would not be able to look at myself in the mirror the next morning. I was going to be a slut, and I didn’t know if I’d be okay with thattomorrow. That because I was making so much effort to get to him it was too easy for him and too cheap for me. He was putting in zero. I couldn’t justify it in my head. I was doing everything and he was doing nothing. That made a full whore circle in my head. I would have done it to myself.

He said he understood, yes he knew he sounded rude and selfish, but that it was part of the fantasy, he had thought we were on the same page.  I had thought so too, but all these second thoughts made me realize I was better than that. He would use me and spit me out like he had done a year ago. It didn’t matter to him who fulfilled his fantasies, as long as he had a warm, hot body. It didn’t matter to him how I felt about it, as long as he could do whatever he wanted. There was zero empathy and respect for me.

Another train passed by. I turned around and went home.

*tbc

 

She’s Fourty

It happened. The Stud texted me last night, and in a conversation about each of our weekends, he mentioned that he had been on a date last Friday. And then proceeded to tell me he is feeling butterflies. Excuse me? I asked if this was someone that would change his mind about not wanting anything serious. He said he’d go into it open minded and see what happened. A little offended, I told him that at least he could now stop waiting for someone better to come along. He said that wasn’t what he was doing. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it.

She’s fourty and has a three year old. Seriously. She’s pretty (yes of course I looked her up) and I couldn’t help but be upset. More so than I thought I would be. He said he didn’t want a relationship. He does, just not with me. And as much as I knew that, it still hurts a little.

Even though I had been in so much doubt about to what extent he was using me, and if it was turning out to be more of a benefit for him than me, my reaction to the news was significant. Today I told him just that. He was understanding, and had kind of seen this coming by me not wanting to talk about it. He suggested we meet after the weekend and talk about it, face to face.

I’m not sure what the point is seeing as I am not good enough and apparently never will be, but it might be good to get it off my chest. If he doesn’t change his mind. I have always said he’s not a dick, and this is his chance to prove it.

All in all, I’ve got myself to blame for this one. I told myself I could do it when clearly I cheated myself. Maybe I should put the whole dating thing on hold for a while. It’s definitely not been working out for me lately, and there’s only so much rejection I can take.

Done Chasing

My Tinder sexdate from last Saturday happened! Up until an hour before, he was still texting me, and I could tell he was anxious. I told him we’d go for a drink, and if either of us didn’t like it, there was still plenty of time for him to get home. I was getting a little irritated myself, but when he got on the train, I went to pick him up. When I arrived at the train station, he was already there, and relieved to see me, as he’d been worried the bag-lady at the door was me. We went to a bar and while I could tell me was a little nervous, it was fine. He was a talker and I think he’s  just naturally a nervous person. He looked like his photos, though he was a little shorter than me and maybe he looked a tad older than his thirty three.

We had a few drinks, and when they cranked up the music, he wanted to leave. He paid (!) for the drinks, and off we went to my place. Had another drink, and thankfully he didn’t wait too long before making his move. After making out for a while he said he was glad I was a good kisser. Great. Off to the bedroom. We quickly undressed  each other, and after he pushed me down on the bed, he immediately went down on me. I remember the times when you wouldn’t do oral on one night stands, but I ain’t complaining. Unfortunately he didn’t excel, and so when I got bored I flipped him on his back, and it was then I realized he still had his briefs on. Even more, when I took them off, he wasn’t hard. Oh boy. My efforts by hand only got him half hard and he then told me to not worry, sometimes it took a while. Okay. I switched it to a sixty nine, and while he licked me, he put a finger up my ass. I came right then and there. I love ass play and loved that he’d picked up on it somehow. In the meantime, he had gotten very hard, and I could taste the pre-cum. Time to stop. I got him a condom, and he fucked me in missionary.

He fell asleep quite quickly afterwards, and even though he’d told me he was a spooner, I don’t think he touched me all night. In the morning, after a bad night’s sleep for me, I wanted him to go. He wasn’t into morning sex, which is fine, but then I want you out the door by nine. He did not. He took forever getting up, wanted to talk about the sex, and finally got up at ten thirty for a shower after I’d told him to a few times. He was gone by eleven. All in all, definitely a good experience, no different than picking someone up at a bar, and I’d do it again. He texted me that night he’d had a good time and good sex, so I guess it worked for him too.

Then, the guy I had a date with on Friday night has been in touch as well. I say in touch, but really it’s been me. I am the one to initiate messaging, and even though he responds super quickly and enthusiastically at that, I don’t think I’ll message him again. If he wants to see me again he’ll have to make some effort, and if not, that’s fine. I’m not gonna chase after him.

The Stud texted me last night to ask how my weekend was. I told him I’d had a date and a sleepover, which is his euphemism for sex. If he tells me about his little adventures, why wouldn’t I? And then I didn’t hear from him for a day. When I texted him this evening to ask what was up with that, he sent me a bunch of messages about himself. Not one question about my being sick (which he knew) and what not. And then he said he would be a little busy for the next couple weeks when I asked about meeting up. Call me suspicious, but in my mind, that’s an excuse for ‘I don’t really want to.’ And then he told me he had finished the business case for the sponsoring thing, and just needed to translate it. Well well. I feel like I am being used. So the plan is to wait for the case, respond to it professionally but inconclusive, and then wait for him to come up with a meet-up plan that is worthy of my looking at his business case. And if he doesn’t in the very near future he will get a piece of my mind.

I hate being used, and I have a sneaking suspicion he is in it for just that. Have the fucking guts to say it then.

I am very close to being done with him if won’t make some serious effort soon, and I am done chasing all these men. I’m over it. I’m tired. I deserve better.