Text from R last night: "You could be enjoying 'The 20' right now"
My response: "I suppose you could if you were here."
Me: "I mean... I suppose I could if you came up here."
R: "Thought you weren't interested."
R: "Too late now, I've been drinking and can't drive."
R: "Thought I was flying solo tonight."
Me: "Let me clarify. If you could allow yourself to trust me, to be in a relationship and to fall in love with me, then I would be interested."
Fifteen minutes pass.
R: "Nope, I just want to own your pussy."
Hmm. What to say to that. Bugger off? Kiss my ass? A dozen different responses float through my head. I could say this, I could say that. Instead?
DELETE.
I delete the entire text thread and return my attention to the TV to enjoy the rest of "Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows."
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Drama at a Glance #18 - 500 Shades of Fucked Up
You cannot argue, defend, debate, negotiate or even communicate with someone who possesses zero capacity for being a rational-thinking adult. There may be a happy ending for "50 Shades of Grey," but 500 Shades of Fucked Up has a different one, maybe because he teeters on the edge of 50 vs. 27... maybe because there was no one there to rescue him as a child. Who knows? And at this point, who cares?
Didn't I know this a month ago (Drama at a Glance #10)? Perhaps two months ago? As a twenty or thirty-something-year old I might "stick with it or hang in there for months on end, perpetually hoping he'll change." As a forty-something-year old? I'll end this now because "hanging in there" runs counter to my effort to be conscious.
I dissect my life and live out loud in a way that people on the outside can judge negatively in person, on Facebook or in my blog(s). Those in my inner circle, though, know the degree to which I push myself to be awake. And as an awake 43-year old, I can no longer hope, pine or pray that this man or any man will change.
Men DON'T CHANGE. And just as a I suspected a month ago, I will not change to be something I'm not to accommodate someone else's fucked up pathology, no matter how great the sex!
I dissect my life and live out loud in a way that people on the outside can judge negatively in person, on Facebook or in my blog(s). Those in my inner circle, though, know the degree to which I push myself to be awake. And as an awake 43-year old, I can no longer hope, pine or pray that this man or any man will change.
Men DON'T CHANGE. And just as a I suspected a month ago, I will not change to be something I'm not to accommodate someone else's fucked up pathology, no matter how great the sex!
There is communication, honesty, collaboration and compromise in relationship, but only if the effort to reach these states is mutual. R is of the opinion that I lied to him regarding kissing the radio rep (Drew). In his "memory" (which is that of a gnat by the way), I had a date with him, but never kissed him. R is also of the opinion that my blog reveals how attracted I was to Drew and how much I wanted to (in his words), "fuck him."
Really? Go back and read it! The only person I want to "fuck" or be in a relationship with is R back in Austin: "when I contemplate Drew in bed I can't fathom a toss in the bed as hot as my guy back in Austin... He gets ready to drive me back, but not before darting across the table for a long, wet kiss. Whoa, not bad I think, still not R though. We drive back to my hotel where he makes a final effort to seal the deal with an invite upstairs. Seriously? I may be eager [for sex in general], but I'm not interested [in Drew]. I politely decline and disclose that there is someone else."
Really? Go back and read it! The only person I want to "fuck" or be in a relationship with is R back in Austin: "when I contemplate Drew in bed I can't fathom a toss in the bed as hot as my guy back in Austin... He gets ready to drive me back, but not before darting across the table for a long, wet kiss. Whoa, not bad I think, still not R though. We drive back to my hotel where he makes a final effort to seal the deal with an invite upstairs. Seriously? I may be eager [for sex in general], but I'm not interested [in Drew]. I politely decline and disclose that there is someone else."
I know to my core that I was transparent with R on this, which is precisely why he dove into a 4-day silent treatment back over Easter. Even his best friend admonished him for expecting a different outcome when he so purposely went out of his way to avoid saying we were "exclusive...", when he so purposely returned to the Austin Dinner Club a few days before (something else he conveniently forgets).
Whatever, even typing this feels like some lame-ass, bullshit way of justifying myself, inviting comments from R to argue otherwise; but oh my god how he so positively refuses to try on the idea that I wasn't lying, that I would not cheat on him... that the filter through which he sees the world is skewed. He won't consider that I would NEVER PUT SOMETHING in a blog that he would hear for the first time, that would land on him like a ton of bricks and hurt him. Give me a break. I'm dramatic, but I'm not mean.
What I know for sure is that it is over. R erupted into drama over my work life as I said above (Drama at a Glance #11), he grew despondent over my illusion of Paul and now shuts down over the shadow of some sales rep I dared had the audacity to kiss back over dinner. He can't allow himself to "fall in love with me" and I cannot pretend being friends with benefits (FWB) is remotely satisfactory. I am worth so much more than that.
A week ago R praised these blogs and requested that I finish our story. Was the sex better after the family reunion? Did it get hotter? Did it become more intimate? Yes, yes and yes. R introduced me to "50 Shades of Grey" having seen it on Dr. Oz. I dare say that what we shared was more amazing than anything written in those books, shared between those two fictitious characters barely old enough to appreciate what truly great sex and intimacy is.
Only three nights ago we try the FWB a second time. We fall asleep in each other's arms and as I trail off into dreamland a sailing analogy fills my thoughts. I am not a sailer, have only ever once been on a sail boat and only then as a passenger - not a participant. But I think about R in my arms and how swept up I am in this experience of him.
I want this ride to last forever and as he falls into a deep slumber I massage his head, brushing my fingers through his hair, tears forming and rolling from my eyes, thinking this might actually work, we may actually be getting back together after breaking up a month before. I want to protect him and keep him safe.
My sailing analogy is just an illusion unfortunately... a projection even. What do you think?
In my "Drama Queen Guide" blog the other night I spoke to my particular need to feel desired at this stage in my life (Connection, Desire, Self-Esteem). Funny [interesting] how my emotional state sooo dictates content (like one might expect for a self-diagnosed drama queen). Only 48 hours later I believe missing R now means that it truly is time to say goodbye. We view the world and relationship differently, so what more is there to even learn?
I have learned all I can from someone unwilling and unable to see my heart. And while I temporarily throw myself a pity party, I am more sad for him. In his narrow filter on the world not only will he preclude himself from being in a great relationship with me he will undoubtedly limit himself from true emotional intimacy with anyone other than his child. Not that I care anymore, right?
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Drama at a Glance #17 - Does She Know We Share?
We stand in our disappointment over a missed opportunity to be together, but the following weekend is a another chance to connect, to blend... to enmesh. It's also the weekend of the family reunion. Timeline? Late March.
I return from a quick trip to chicago and R invites me to dinner at his cousin's house - Day One of the Annual Family Get Together. At first glance they're normal. I don't know why I'm surprised by this, but I am. Maybe I can attribute it to the stories of his childhood which are not altogether pleasant. Or maybe it's the severity to which his father ended his life. Whatever the case, the grown siblings, cousins, spouses, aunts and uncles are absolutely lovely.
"How did y'all meet?" the family's recently-designated matriarch asks. Nothing like being put on the spot. Thankfully, I have my comic bag of tricks within arm's reach.
"We met at the Austin Dinner Club," I share. "It's this place for really desperate lonely singles to go and meet other pathetic lonely singles," I add with a feigned whine and whimper.
Lots of laughs. Yep, that WOO strength (winning over others) can be applied at work AND in awkward social settings where you're face-to-face meeting your new boyfriend's family for the first time. Somewhere amid the laughs and conversation his uncle proposes marriage to me. Like his sister the matriarch, he's charming and sweet.
R holds my hand throughout the night and I hold his in return. This nets us all sorts of oohs and ahhs, but tomorrow will be the real test. R's big brother drives in from Houston and his reputation proceeds him. R warned me on our first date at Tacos and Tequila that he'd be colorful. Without missing a beat, big brother arrives the next day and in hushed whispers I hear, "does she know that we share?"
What? Did I really just hear that?
He proves to be harmless and truly, the whole family is just so genuinely awesome. And they really like each other! At least enough to meet every year for an entire weekend. On my mother's side of the family my grandfather's siblings - he was one of 12 twelve children - and their descendants still gather one to two times a year in Topeka, Kansas. On Dad's side we had a reunion once ten years ago and I organized that from 1200 miles away. It was nice, but nothing like this. Always, I find myself drawn to those whose immediately large families offer more color than my own.
On Day Two we graze -- if not somewhat inappropriately -- on an all-day buffet of BBQ from the Salt Lick. With unlimited alcohol to quench our thirst we roll into the nighttime fairly lit. Most of the remaining siblings and cousins join R out on the porch while I stay inside to visit with his mom.
We can all put our moms in a box, assume that she is this or that without knowing the depths of knowledge or secrets residing in her heart. To R and his siblings she does nothing to take care of her health, she rambles incessantly and whines. Early in the day I agree with their assessment. At the end of the day she is quite different.
With KU playing in the Final Four in the background, R's mom discreetly shares her perspective on her youngest son and what didn't work in his marriage. Eventually our conversation turns to her and her relationships. If she has one piece of advice it's this: "uncover now or as soon as possible each other's issues before getting too attached. It'll make moving forward easier whether you're together or apart."
As if on queue, the next several weeks will consist of ample opportunities to uncover each other's shit as some call it. R's words from our second weekend together will resonate: "How do we sustain this?" Indeed, how will we?
For now, though, R and I bask still in the novelty of US. He returns from outside and joins me on the couch. "Mom, did you ever think that someone would like me this much again?"
Without missing a beat she replies, "Well, she doesn't know you that well yet." My eyes widen slightly, but her words seem to go in one ear and right out the other for R. Everyone files in from outback and the cousins take their leave, as does big brother with his wife and family. It's just R's mom now along with his sisters and their families and me.
I lay on the couch while R massages my back. Indifferent to anyone in the room, his right hand finds his way to my chest. Seriously? He's grabbing at my right boob and it's all I can do to not Laugh Out Loud. I turn to my back and he refuses to stop, engaging my boob in a full blown titty twist. It hurts but mostly it -- or rather he -- just surprises me to no end with his inappropriate yet hilarious affection.
Laughter erupts from some deep primal reserve, unrecognizable and contagious. Soon, everyone is in on "the secret" as subtlety has COMPLETELY left the room. He pulls me up from the couch and, still laughing, he takes me by the hand. "Good night everyone," he says as we ascend the stairs. He walks down the hallway of his house determined to find a vacant room to continue with his "punishment."
We take temporary refuge in a guest room when I remind him, "Uhm, I'm still on that medicine... you know the one for the bacterial vag thing."
"Still?"
"Yeah. Not going to be able to you know..." He looks contemplatively at me.
"Feeling adventurous?" he asks with a devilish grin.
"With you? Always." And off we go into uncharted territory but not without his sister and her husband busting in on us first. Crap, did I just see a flash go off?
"Oh my god, you two," his sister berates while her husband snaps two more pics. Fortunately, we'd grabbed the bed cover just as we heard them at the door. They make a hasty exit but fail to turn the light back off. R, indifferent to modesty and the opinions of others, resumes administering his behind-the-scenes punishment. Twenty minutes and three climaxes later I have his full and complete consent to come a fourth and final time with him. We collapse in a pile of giggles and exhaustion as we attempt to regain our composure and our clothes. Dressed, we leave in search of a landing pad for a good night's sleep.
I return from a quick trip to chicago and R invites me to dinner at his cousin's house - Day One of the Annual Family Get Together. At first glance they're normal. I don't know why I'm surprised by this, but I am. Maybe I can attribute it to the stories of his childhood which are not altogether pleasant. Or maybe it's the severity to which his father ended his life. Whatever the case, the grown siblings, cousins, spouses, aunts and uncles are absolutely lovely.
"How did y'all meet?" the family's recently-designated matriarch asks. Nothing like being put on the spot. Thankfully, I have my comic bag of tricks within arm's reach.
"We met at the Austin Dinner Club," I share. "It's this place for really desperate lonely singles to go and meet other pathetic lonely singles," I add with a feigned whine and whimper.
Lots of laughs. Yep, that WOO strength (winning over others) can be applied at work AND in awkward social settings where you're face-to-face meeting your new boyfriend's family for the first time. Somewhere amid the laughs and conversation his uncle proposes marriage to me. Like his sister the matriarch, he's charming and sweet.
R holds my hand throughout the night and I hold his in return. This nets us all sorts of oohs and ahhs, but tomorrow will be the real test. R's big brother drives in from Houston and his reputation proceeds him. R warned me on our first date at Tacos and Tequila that he'd be colorful. Without missing a beat, big brother arrives the next day and in hushed whispers I hear, "does she know that we share?"
What? Did I really just hear that?
He proves to be harmless and truly, the whole family is just so genuinely awesome. And they really like each other! At least enough to meet every year for an entire weekend. On my mother's side of the family my grandfather's siblings - he was one of 12 twelve children - and their descendants still gather one to two times a year in Topeka, Kansas. On Dad's side we had a reunion once ten years ago and I organized that from 1200 miles away. It was nice, but nothing like this. Always, I find myself drawn to those whose immediately large families offer more color than my own.
On Day Two we graze -- if not somewhat inappropriately -- on an all-day buffet of BBQ from the Salt Lick. With unlimited alcohol to quench our thirst we roll into the nighttime fairly lit. Most of the remaining siblings and cousins join R out on the porch while I stay inside to visit with his mom.
We can all put our moms in a box, assume that she is this or that without knowing the depths of knowledge or secrets residing in her heart. To R and his siblings she does nothing to take care of her health, she rambles incessantly and whines. Early in the day I agree with their assessment. At the end of the day she is quite different.
With KU playing in the Final Four in the background, R's mom discreetly shares her perspective on her youngest son and what didn't work in his marriage. Eventually our conversation turns to her and her relationships. If she has one piece of advice it's this: "uncover now or as soon as possible each other's issues before getting too attached. It'll make moving forward easier whether you're together or apart."
As if on queue, the next several weeks will consist of ample opportunities to uncover each other's shit as some call it. R's words from our second weekend together will resonate: "How do we sustain this?" Indeed, how will we?
For now, though, R and I bask still in the novelty of US. He returns from outside and joins me on the couch. "Mom, did you ever think that someone would like me this much again?"
Without missing a beat she replies, "Well, she doesn't know you that well yet." My eyes widen slightly, but her words seem to go in one ear and right out the other for R. Everyone files in from outback and the cousins take their leave, as does big brother with his wife and family. It's just R's mom now along with his sisters and their families and me.
I lay on the couch while R massages my back. Indifferent to anyone in the room, his right hand finds his way to my chest. Seriously? He's grabbing at my right boob and it's all I can do to not Laugh Out Loud. I turn to my back and he refuses to stop, engaging my boob in a full blown titty twist. It hurts but mostly it -- or rather he -- just surprises me to no end with his inappropriate yet hilarious affection.
Laughter erupts from some deep primal reserve, unrecognizable and contagious. Soon, everyone is in on "the secret" as subtlety has COMPLETELY left the room. He pulls me up from the couch and, still laughing, he takes me by the hand. "Good night everyone," he says as we ascend the stairs. He walks down the hallway of his house determined to find a vacant room to continue with his "punishment."
We take temporary refuge in a guest room when I remind him, "Uhm, I'm still on that medicine... you know the one for the bacterial vag thing."
"Still?"
"Yeah. Not going to be able to you know..." He looks contemplatively at me.
"Feeling adventurous?" he asks with a devilish grin.
"With you? Always." And off we go into uncharted territory but not without his sister and her husband busting in on us first. Crap, did I just see a flash go off?
"Oh my god, you two," his sister berates while her husband snaps two more pics. Fortunately, we'd grabbed the bed cover just as we heard them at the door. They make a hasty exit but fail to turn the light back off. R, indifferent to modesty and the opinions of others, resumes administering his behind-the-scenes punishment. Twenty minutes and three climaxes later I have his full and complete consent to come a fourth and final time with him. We collapse in a pile of giggles and exhaustion as we attempt to regain our composure and our clothes. Dressed, we leave in search of a landing pad for a good night's sleep.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Drama at a Glance #16 - You Want to Dance? Let's Dance
I go to Bikram Yoga to meditate and sweat out my reaction to "overwhelming." Ninety minutes later I'm clear and it's home to pack for a three-day business trip to Iowa and Kansas. I check my phone and see a text from R.
"Okay, you're not responding to my texts... I hope you're okay. I know you do that delete thing when you're feeling defensive."
And two hours before that: "Hey, how was your day?"
I start to text a reply but opt to go old-school and call instead. He answers immediately, "Yello!"
"You thought I was ignoring you?"
"No... well, maybe a little." I smile hearing his voice as well as hearing his insecurity on the other side of the phone.
"I wasn't ignoring you. I've been in yoga."
"Okay, well I thought maybe my 'overwhelming' comment rubbed you the wrong way."
"It did. I mean, I took it a little personally."
"I don't mean anything personal by it, it's just that I'm used to being alone. I'm not used to having someone around so much but also, it was really intense. Don't you agree?"
"You're the one that insisted on the 20," I retort. "Truthfully, though. I could have gone another round this morning. I was disappointed we didn't."
"I couldn't have. I was, well like I said, 'overwhelmed'." Maybe it isn't personal. What if the stuff men say is never personal? Just a thought.
"I'm heading out of town tomorrow but return Friday," I tell him. "The kids will still be with their dad next weekend. Would you like to come up to my place Saturday night?"
"Sure," he says. "Lets talk later in the week."
The days tick by with a six-hour road trip to Council Bluff Iowa for a customer lunch meeting, a two-hour dinner in KC with a 35-year old surgeon customer whose maturity level rivals that of most 14-year-olds and finally a meeting with a marketing director at Johnson County Imaging whose boobs are as firm and high as cantaloupes floating in a bird bath.
I return home to greet the weekend with excitement and a trip to HEB where I buy ingredients for Lydia's Chicken Scallopine in Lemon-Caper Sauce. Knowing R's preferences for Sobe, Truvia and Rice Dream (for his coffee), I pick up those items up too before leaving the store to swing by Brushy Creek Wine and Spirits for Tito's.
Hours drag until finally, R stands in my home, mine all mine. What would normally take an hour to make takes three with myriad breaks for soulful kissing. At one point he stops to ask, "how do we sustain this?" I look at him. Isn't this the million-dollar question everyone wants to know.
"I believe it's sustainable when two people make a commitment to sustaining it," I answer in between kisses. "And I think that things happen, people say things that layer up over time. Two people have to be committed to breaking through the wounding things they do or say to keep scars and bitterness at bay." Which is precisely what would have kept my marriage in tact I think but quickly move past to focus on the present.
At some point the lemon-caper sauce starts to burn. Crap! I save it before it reduces to a crisp. "Whoops."
"It'll be fine," he offers up understandingly. And he's right. We devour what turns out to be amazingly delicious. Then - because of nerves, an acid-akaline imbalance or because I didn't eat enough through out the day - I develop a mild stomach ache which R responds to by cleaning up the entire kitchen while I lay down on the couch.
We make our way upstairs to continue our night of a 1000 kisses, to pick up where we left off the week before. Something is different, though. Oh, no. Is this the beginning of the end? I sense it but do not acknowledge it. We've not even had a chance to exchange hurtful sentiment! R leaves after brunch and calls a few hours later. He recommends a visit to the doctor, that perhaps it's the result of taking antibiotics, that he doesn't want this to get in the way of US and that's why he's saying something now.
A gyno appointment reveals a bout of bacterial vaginosis. Oh, you gotta be kidding. I hammer the doctor for a probable cause: intercourse? vibrator? sweaty clothes from yoga? toilet seats in places that do not carry paper seat covers (Love Field Airport)? fooling around a with goofy cowboy from West Texas who insisted on calling me darling New Year's Eve EVE? Her response to each? An unequivocal NO. There is not a single cause other than, "sometimes things just get out of balance."
I'm betting it was antibiotics. Either way the crotch, the hootch, the pootang, the beast, the va-jay-jay, the bald man in the boat! Whatever, the pussy is closed for business for the next several days. Meanwhile, someone has decided they want to return to the Austin Dinner Club because it's "just fun to socialize." Excuse me????
That same day an email arrives in my work inbox from Drew. "Just wanted to check in on your advertising budget. Oh, and by the way, I've gone through a divorce recently. I've also lost 90 pounds."
Okay, that's not the type of news one professional normally shares with another. It's a bit suspect. He continues, "let me know if you're going to be in Dallas any time soon. I'd like to see what my radio station can do for you... we have a great promotion later this spring." It just so happens I'll be in Ft. Worth Thursday. This sounds less like a business dinner than a date, but I give him the benefit of the doubt. It's Drew after all. There's no way he's waxing on amorously.
On the drive to Ft. Worth I call R. There was nothing to worry about from the dinner apparently, "You don't have any competition," he says. Yea, that makes me feel so much better. I ask about getting together over the weekend but he's non-committal.
"Well, I understand if you want to take a weekend off," I throw on the table.
"Oh, wow, thanks. I appreciate you saying that," he replies. "Yeah, let's just play it by ear."
We play it by ear. I see Drew after my meeting that night and he looks amazing. The last time I saw him he was a frumpy - if not dumpy - middle-aged man with a lot of gray hair but a great personality. Now he's thin, fit and sporting short, dark hair. He still has a great personality and he seems taller now. At the restaurant I try to decide whether or not to order the filet mignon.
"Soooo... this is a Clear Channel expense?" I ask.
"Uhm, no. This is personal actually." So it is a date. I order the steak anyway and he spends the dinner opening up, describing how he's always had a crush on me but never said anything because we were married. He brings up his phone and starts to flip through a number of photos when I see a picture of me. He turns slightly red, "I hope you don't mind... I copied this from LinkedIn."
It strikes me as a little odd, but I suspend judgment. Drew is a good person. He's not a creep and I'm actually flattered. Dinner progresses and there's a little chemistry, but he's not R. I don't know what to think about R's whole return to ADC, but when I contemplate Drew in bed I can't fathom a toss in the bed as hot as my guy back in Austin.
He gets ready to drive me back, but not before darting across the table for a long, wet kiss. Whoa, not bad I think, still not R though. We drive back to my hotel where he makes a final effort to seal the deal with an invite upstairs. Seriously? I may be eager, but I'm not interested. I politely decline and disclose that there is someone else.
"Well he's a lucky guy," Drew tells me. "I hope he realizes that."
"Thanks Andy." And I hope R realizes that too.
"Okay, you're not responding to my texts... I hope you're okay. I know you do that delete thing when you're feeling defensive."
And two hours before that: "Hey, how was your day?"
I start to text a reply but opt to go old-school and call instead. He answers immediately, "Yello!"
"You thought I was ignoring you?"
"No... well, maybe a little." I smile hearing his voice as well as hearing his insecurity on the other side of the phone.
"I wasn't ignoring you. I've been in yoga."
"Okay, well I thought maybe my 'overwhelming' comment rubbed you the wrong way."
"It did. I mean, I took it a little personally."
"I don't mean anything personal by it, it's just that I'm used to being alone. I'm not used to having someone around so much but also, it was really intense. Don't you agree?"
"You're the one that insisted on the 20," I retort. "Truthfully, though. I could have gone another round this morning. I was disappointed we didn't."
"I couldn't have. I was, well like I said, 'overwhelmed'." Maybe it isn't personal. What if the stuff men say is never personal? Just a thought.
"I'm heading out of town tomorrow but return Friday," I tell him. "The kids will still be with their dad next weekend. Would you like to come up to my place Saturday night?"
"Sure," he says. "Lets talk later in the week."
The days tick by with a six-hour road trip to Council Bluff Iowa for a customer lunch meeting, a two-hour dinner in KC with a 35-year old surgeon customer whose maturity level rivals that of most 14-year-olds and finally a meeting with a marketing director at Johnson County Imaging whose boobs are as firm and high as cantaloupes floating in a bird bath.
I return home to greet the weekend with excitement and a trip to HEB where I buy ingredients for Lydia's Chicken Scallopine in Lemon-Caper Sauce. Knowing R's preferences for Sobe, Truvia and Rice Dream (for his coffee), I pick up those items up too before leaving the store to swing by Brushy Creek Wine and Spirits for Tito's.
Hours drag until finally, R stands in my home, mine all mine. What would normally take an hour to make takes three with myriad breaks for soulful kissing. At one point he stops to ask, "how do we sustain this?" I look at him. Isn't this the million-dollar question everyone wants to know.
"I believe it's sustainable when two people make a commitment to sustaining it," I answer in between kisses. "And I think that things happen, people say things that layer up over time. Two people have to be committed to breaking through the wounding things they do or say to keep scars and bitterness at bay." Which is precisely what would have kept my marriage in tact I think but quickly move past to focus on the present.
At some point the lemon-caper sauce starts to burn. Crap! I save it before it reduces to a crisp. "Whoops."
"It'll be fine," he offers up understandingly. And he's right. We devour what turns out to be amazingly delicious. Then - because of nerves, an acid-akaline imbalance or because I didn't eat enough through out the day - I develop a mild stomach ache which R responds to by cleaning up the entire kitchen while I lay down on the couch.
We make our way upstairs to continue our night of a 1000 kisses, to pick up where we left off the week before. Something is different, though. Oh, no. Is this the beginning of the end? I sense it but do not acknowledge it. We've not even had a chance to exchange hurtful sentiment! R leaves after brunch and calls a few hours later. He recommends a visit to the doctor, that perhaps it's the result of taking antibiotics, that he doesn't want this to get in the way of US and that's why he's saying something now.
A gyno appointment reveals a bout of bacterial vaginosis. Oh, you gotta be kidding. I hammer the doctor for a probable cause: intercourse? vibrator? sweaty clothes from yoga? toilet seats in places that do not carry paper seat covers (Love Field Airport)? fooling around a with goofy cowboy from West Texas who insisted on calling me darling New Year's Eve EVE? Her response to each? An unequivocal NO. There is not a single cause other than, "sometimes things just get out of balance."
I'm betting it was antibiotics. Either way the crotch, the hootch, the pootang, the beast, the va-jay-jay, the bald man in the boat! Whatever, the pussy is closed for business for the next several days. Meanwhile, someone has decided they want to return to the Austin Dinner Club because it's "just fun to socialize." Excuse me????
That same day an email arrives in my work inbox from Drew. "Just wanted to check in on your advertising budget. Oh, and by the way, I've gone through a divorce recently. I've also lost 90 pounds."
Okay, that's not the type of news one professional normally shares with another. It's a bit suspect. He continues, "let me know if you're going to be in Dallas any time soon. I'd like to see what my radio station can do for you... we have a great promotion later this spring." It just so happens I'll be in Ft. Worth Thursday. This sounds less like a business dinner than a date, but I give him the benefit of the doubt. It's Drew after all. There's no way he's waxing on amorously.
On the drive to Ft. Worth I call R. There was nothing to worry about from the dinner apparently, "You don't have any competition," he says. Yea, that makes me feel so much better. I ask about getting together over the weekend but he's non-committal.
"Well, I understand if you want to take a weekend off," I throw on the table.
"Oh, wow, thanks. I appreciate you saying that," he replies. "Yeah, let's just play it by ear."
We play it by ear. I see Drew after my meeting that night and he looks amazing. The last time I saw him he was a frumpy - if not dumpy - middle-aged man with a lot of gray hair but a great personality. Now he's thin, fit and sporting short, dark hair. He still has a great personality and he seems taller now. At the restaurant I try to decide whether or not to order the filet mignon.
"Soooo... this is a Clear Channel expense?" I ask.
"Uhm, no. This is personal actually." So it is a date. I order the steak anyway and he spends the dinner opening up, describing how he's always had a crush on me but never said anything because we were married. He brings up his phone and starts to flip through a number of photos when I see a picture of me. He turns slightly red, "I hope you don't mind... I copied this from LinkedIn."
It strikes me as a little odd, but I suspend judgment. Drew is a good person. He's not a creep and I'm actually flattered. Dinner progresses and there's a little chemistry, but he's not R. I don't know what to think about R's whole return to ADC, but when I contemplate Drew in bed I can't fathom a toss in the bed as hot as my guy back in Austin.
He gets ready to drive me back, but not before darting across the table for a long, wet kiss. Whoa, not bad I think, still not R though. We drive back to my hotel where he makes a final effort to seal the deal with an invite upstairs. Seriously? I may be eager, but I'm not interested. I politely decline and disclose that there is someone else.
"Well he's a lucky guy," Drew tells me. "I hope he realizes that."
"Thanks Andy." And I hope R realizes that too.
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