DAMN, people. The harder I pray for decent distractions from the Terminator, the worse these bastards get…it’s like the universe is pushing me relentlessly towards him, or has decided that I need an advanced degree in patience and discernment. Seriously, who needs birth control when you’ve got guys like this walking the streets? Pussies everywhere would lie dormant and undisturbed forever.
First there was the very hot guy who texted and called constantly but only wanted to come to my place — married. Then the guy who took me to the movies and was 15 years older than his pics. Then Talmud guy, so hot, so sweet, so charming, who’s hot move trying to seduce me was running his nails up and down my clothed body like some crazed harpist, then humping me (dressed!) without an erection until I erupted into uncontrollable laughter…and myriad guys with whom I emailed and texted who just disappear for no reason…
I have gone from one disaster dude to the next until the guy this morning, which was the last straw. I thought he would be so good, but…nothing. Literally, we took one look at each other and there was…silence. We spent a grand total of two minutes, tops, together. “Well, now we got a visual,” he said. “Yeah, I said.” I closed the car door and walked off and he gunned the gas. I know that lack of chemistry happens, but I just don’t want it happening now. That was my last, best hope. I was infuriated all day because in my advanced state of deprivation it meant only one thing: back to the Terminator.
I wanted to have the luxury of letting him decide when we would next meet, but he agreed to meet asap while also giving me shit for not calling unless its to arrange a tryst. Dude, please. OK, I’ll try to call and say hi more…
Also, I don’t want it to be so obvious he has my pussy in a vise. OK, too late for that.
But there has been a ninth-inning development.
Earlier this evening my son’s father called. I often refer to him as my ex-husband because our four years together felt like 25, not because we were married. Anyway, I wrote here earlier about our pseudo-agreement to provide each other with relief sex when either of us had the need. In the eight (nine?) years we’ve been apart it’s never happened, although on occasion we do fool around. We pretty much had the most horrible break-up ever, and it’s a testament to both our therapists that we can even be in the same state, never mind co-parent successfully and be friends. Also our love for our incredible, beautiful son has a lot to do with it.
A few weeks ago he had asked me if I was up for relief duty as he’s been alone since his last long-term (which for him is around 3 years) left. I told him I was willing, and he said as soon as his vasectomy is re-done (they come undone?) he would be in touch. I never heard anymore about it it, and I figured that he just wasn’t interested or had met someone. But tonight, after we discuss weekend plans for our son, he asks me how I’m doing and what’s up with my dating life, etc. He knows the score with me and he knows what I’ve been up to. So I catch him up on the latest, he gives me his opinions/advice and wants to know when we can get together for a tryst. Long story short? Friday night. It was very classy of him to again apologize for everything he did wrong…horny, but classy.