My friend, the Gothic Chef, has told me that he likes my energy when I'm single and "the excitement (I show) that comes with knowing that the world is full of potential new lovers." The world is my oyster. I also enjoy the anticipation of what could happen next, even if admittedly my preference is to be partnered, on some level, with a delicious daughter of Venus.
It's been an unusual, transformative, and healing past few weeks. Since New Year's, I've been doing a lot of re-evaluating.
Shayne and me discussed it in early December.
Me: Look at it this way: its a change of context. We're still friends, can still love each other, but we're not holding out for stomping on crystalware. That doesn't have to change our closeness if we don't want it to. You're still important to me, and I do love you. We can always revisit it again, in time, if we want to. No burnt bridges.
Shayne: I agree. That doesn't stop me from feeling sad over the loss of an idea. Tho i'll try to focus on the positives. Man! Why do ya suppose i freak out every time you come? ...don't answer that. ;) Love you.
There's a lot we never got to do. I never got to take her to a playparty, or scuba in Honduras, or camping on the Saint Lawrence, or even particularly intense private bdsm play. Well, hey.
But I've already decided that, unlike what happened after things ended with the Grrl, I don't want to see this blog fall into hiatus because my primary relationship is being redefined. In addition to continuing to share hot and tawdry memories from my past, tawdry moments from throughout my days, and general sexuality, perhaps this blog will feature a stronger singledom element as I embark on What's Next. Dating, for sure. Affairs? One-nighters? That all depends on what Aphrodite offers.
Following a recent date, some redefinition also seems to be happening between myself and Morgan as well. What started as a Craigslisted over-the-knee spanking affair has become a richer friendship that we're both enjoying a lot, but very recently she's taken the brave step to invest more into her troubled marriage and pause on our sensual play. The truth is that my heart sank when she shared this recent news, but that's not stopping me from cheering her on, even while she tells me how she's been fantasizing about my firm hand on her amazingly beautiful posterior. A recent discussion about the relationships between power, fucking, and being fucked left me with a raging cock in my jeans, and I think she enjoyed knowing the feral affect our chitchat had upon me. Damn, I like her.
The Tomboy and I reconnected socially recently, and it's been nice now that a lot of dust has settled. We won't be having sex anytime soon, or at all, but I'm told that that's more because her boyfriend (who is still unemployed) forbade it between us rather than any barrier she may have. Interesting.
To my shock, Stacy and me also reconnected over the phone recently. Long-time readers may remember this saucy, secretive tart whom I also encountered via Craigslist almost a year ago. It seems she had thought I had "given up" on her, and expressed interest is getting together some time in the future. Interesting.
And speaking of shock, how on earth did my reasonably old friend Lee end up in my bed recently? While she's made no secret about her interest for years, I still can't quite figure out how a night bar-hopping among friends... turned into us stopping at my pad for caffeine as I drove her home... turned into her voraciously sucking my cock. (Yes, I disclosed.) An early30s goth, Lee is a fun and friendly sweetheart but, to be frank, hasn't really been on my sexual radar. Perhaps I'll slip my tongue in my cheek and chalk this one up to "helping a friend out," because I have to admit that it was really fun to hear her scream "Fuck me! FUCK ME!" as I tugged her dark braids while pumping into her from behind. Oh, for the Women Upstairs. Interesting.
How can you not enjoy a woman with such vocabulary?
A recent date with Hannah was very bizarre. A mid40s entertainer (no, not a stripper) and mystic, she's a self-described control freak whose kink, articulate nature, intelligence, sexual independence, and spirituality intrigue me. I already sense that here's a woman I could potentially explore tantra with, and she's already made it clear that she has experience in other sexual territories that remain only fantasies to me. Over the phone, our vibe is resonant, but somehow the energy seems a little wonky and elusive when we meet in person. She's made it clear that she's attracted (the kisses were a decent hint), so I'm scratching my head about it all still. I may learn more when (if) we date again after she returns from a trip to Holland, whereupon I've joked that she'll be pegging her Dutch boy there while he squirms in his woody clogs.
And talk about contrast. While Lee is such an abundantly endowed BBW that the acronym seems like a polite understatement, Hannah could easily pass as the poster child for a refugee fundraiser. Now, I appreciate a healthy grain&green vegan diet, but when I'm tempted to hook my date up to a saline intravenous drip between bites of goat cheese pizza, something must be wrong. Further, doesn't the idea of a self-described control freak in an admitted submissive sound like a headache waiting to happen? Call me crazy.
Just prior to New Year's, I enjoyed a sumptuous dinner date with Tina, a buxom 40s businesswoman, who encountered me through a dating site. This became a very, very short-lived affair. The fact is that the combination of my own early-post-Shayne angst and Tina's inability to respect some boundaries (like, you know, don't bite the fucking nipples as though you're trying to eat a steak, especially after he's asked you for the third or fourth time) made any potential for further sexual play less preferable than getting pinkeye. I made that Just Friends right goddam quick.
But then there's Lauren. With Shayne and me at a romantic distance, with Morgan courageously Trying To Work It Out, Lauren has kindasorta become the defacto sigh-maker in my world. This actually sucks because Lauren and me are Just Friends.
A mid30s social worker and former model, Lauren is, in a word, stunning. Intimidatingly so, with rich brunette locks and eldritch eyes, a statuesque elven shape, and a voice like cognac. We've been casual acquaintances for some time, and after she had learned about my newly-single status, she sought me out for drinks. Also healing from an ending relationship, she did the smart thing and enriched a friendship with someone in a similar space, and what's been developing since is a very pleasant closeness between us.
But we're Friends. Despite us enjoying my famous chicken vindaloo together and cuddling deeply over a James Bond DVD this week. And despite me giving her a sensual hot-oil massage afterward. And despite the most sensual, relaxed, tender night of shared sleep I've known since my last visit to Chicago. Simply said, of all the dates and the one-nighter and the drinks out with this wonderful assortment of excellent women, my completely nonsexual evening with my-just-friend Lauren soothed every stress and almost every sense of heartgrief for the few hours they were shared. It was very healing, and because I really don't believe that things with her will really ever progress beyond this, also frustratingly unrequited. But I wouldn't have traded it.
So I seem to be nurturing possibilities these days, and enjoying how it enriches my friendships with cool women. That isn't necessarily a bad thing.
And Shayne? We talk, though perhaps not as often, and perhaps not quite as tenderly. We're adjusting, and the future remains unwritten. I understand that after some physical hiatus of her own, she's met a wonderful woman and may be falling in love with her, an early20s violist with a penchant for healthy cooking, social justice, and introspection. From what little I've gleaned, thanks to Facebook and the like, she seems virtually perfect for Pixie, and I'm genuinely really very pleased and excited for her.
This may be one of the healthiest breakups I've ever had. I regard Shayne as family. I can only hope that her dating future isn't nearly as weird as mine has been over the last few weeks. God knows she deserves some peace of mind and unfettered fun.
I miss her a lot. I miss holding her close, naked, at night. I miss giving her pleasure, hearing her laugh, sharing breakfast. I miss our sexy textmessages, her sassy smartassy nature, and her queer politics. But everything is ok, I'm doing really well, and sooner or later I know I'll be with a woman again who won't have me wanting to whack my head against a wall.
Until and after then, every day remains an adventure.