Dating weirdness.

I've heard it said that "even bad sex is still pretty good."

I have my doubts.

Things have been very bizarre since the holidaze. Still adjusting to the changes between Shayne and me, still supportive but nevertheless aware of the paradigm shift with Morgan, January has left me scratching my head a lot. Crazy Stacy and I haven't reconnected (yet?), and even if we did, I have no delusions that it would develop into anything regular or dependable. Kinky Hannah is away in Europe, and I'm unsure yet if we'd have a second date or not. Glamorous Lauren and I have always been Just Friends. I've decided that I'm a little uncomfortable about the recent surprise experience with Bubbly Lee.

Whenever writing about my lovers, I always endeavor to be as positive and nurturing as possible while still remaining truthful to the events at hand. I prefer to treat women with respect and appreciation in virtually every circumstance... but sometimes I find I have to face some simple man-truths, cock-truths, heart-truths.

Fairly recent experiences with Biting Tina and Lee have shown me that sometimes I'm prone to entertaining sexual options that I already know aren't going to completely satisfy me. Maybe its because of that maxim, that "even bad sex is still pretty good," or because not-dating can sometimes suck even more than less-than-ideal-dating. Maybe its simply because I really enjoy a woman's company, whether its something sexual or not. Maybe I want to distract myself from missing Shayne.

Enter Redhead Carla. A late30s insurance cubefarm worker and single mother to an adorable wee urchin, Carla responded to a listing that, completely on a lark, I posted to Craigslist. A few emails and conversations later, we met for coffee that didn't remain just for coffee. This sounds strangely familiar.

I'm learning to listen to my gut more. My gut didn't respond with starfire when I saw her picture, pretty though she is, and maybe even then I sensed that there could be gulfs between us. But, in the spirit of openmindedness, I decided to give it a chance anyway.

I really wasn't expecting anything to happen that night. I even more really wasn't expecting anything to happen while Carla's three year-old was goofily crawling around on the couch we were on too. But, no, there she was, hoisting her jeans-covered legs over mine to share some peckish smootches while I tried to suggest that maybe, if this was going to go down, it might be better after some tiny person was fast in Lalaland.

And that's how we ended up in her bedroom, her tiny pad pitch black in darkness, as these tactics were viewed as the best possible way for some tiny person to actually drift off to sleep. She did.

It felt totally weird to be undressing and preparing for unexpected sex in pitch darkness. The wee one would sense and respond to any light, I was told, so I smiled and tried to enjoy it, ignoring the thought that maybe I was with someone who simply didn't want to be seen naked. Turns out I was mistaken, but what did I know?

Her kisses seemed innocent, shy, reserved. I began to wonder how comfortable she was, but was well assured. Deciding to relax in the moment, I slowly brought myself down her nude body with kisses and teases before parting her open for a sensual session of head. I felt, rather than saw, that her mound was shaven and smooth, her clit small and responsive, her inner labia taut and finely sculpted. Gently sliding my fingers inside as I licked and sucked her, her G-spot was small and surprisingly smooth, difficult to tease. I enjoyed listening to her quiet gasps and sighs... and then it was over. She had had her cum, and sought to cuddle and drift to sleep. I was amiable. The pillow was too hard.

"Plans" seemed to happen quickly from there. We talked about what we were seeking in longterm relationships, Valentine's Day, that there's a musical happening in town that she'd enjoy seeing on her coming 40th birthday. Some of the yellow lights in my head started blinking.

Still, I'm openminded guy, and remained willing to give it a chance.

I made an excellent turchia scallopini for our second date, where we had already planned for her to spend the night. We were going to fuck, and frankly, as I hadn't enjoyed reasonably good sex since my last visit with Shayne and was very frustrated by the almost-theres through the past few weeks, it's safe to say that this time I had expectations. I deserved a solid, passionate night of getting properly laid, I told myself. My broken heart be damned.

After, it turned out, she could tear herself away from my PlayStation. After, it turned out, she matter-of-factly undressed beside the bed; no tender kissing, few caresses, no verbal teasing, no sensual play. Was she nervous? No, she said. Was she comfortable? Yes, she said. Yellow lights, yellow lights.

The nude snuggling was nice. Now actually seeing her, my cock hardened at the sight of delightfully round, small breasts teased with tiny eraser nipples, the pattern of sexy red freckles along her shoulders and forearms. She passively asked me to give her head again, and again I did with relish and tenderness, and again she came with sighs and gasps. When I drew myself upward again, she rolled me over, announced that the "cougar in her" was going to come out and mounted me. I bit my lower lip as I enjoyed her tight wetness and caressed her back, but too soon she was asking for a change in position and wanted me from behind.

Her narrow hips felt fabulous in my grip as I started fucking her deeply, earnestly, enjoying the sight of her pale behind ripple as my cock drove inside her. I shifted into one nuance of the position after another, and in time tugged her on her back and raised her ankles above my shoulders for deeper fucking. Carla gasped loudly as she felt me.

I tried not to think about the fact that this was a position that I really enjoyed sharing with Shayne.

And, again, then it was over. Perhaps because it had been more than seven months since she last had a man, but Carla had had her fill. Her pussy was done. And it became clear that she just wasn't the sort of lover who had demonstrable interest or experience in seeing her partner have a fulfilling time as well.

For all my openmindedness, I have to say it for what it is: that's a sexual selfishness. No, I don't need to cum every time I have sex to have fun, but as I know I try my best to ensure the best possible time with my lover, I really would like to see the same pleasurable excitement and sharing to have that sentiment returned. Call me crazy.

Other differences are apparent. Carla, for all her apparent sexual availability (if not skill), is a woman who seeks monogamy and expects The Man to open his wallet for all evenings out. She's not kinky. She doesn't carry a conversation. She doesn't express firm opinions. When I shared with her that its strong, confident women who have their own goals and know what they desire from life, from sex, from the future that attract me, and that women who wait to be rescued from their lives will almost always bore me to death... she seemed eerily silent.

It's a shame, really. And the selfish part of me wants to bitch that it's just fucking unfair.

She loves to camp and ski. We seem to have similar taste in film. Part of me enjoys the idea of corrupting her innocence. But the truth is that there are wide gaps between us, and that tells me that there really aren't any strong possibilities for LTRs. Make a friendship out of it? Sure, easy. Enjoy her company for so-called "maintenance sex"? Maybe. Not if she's going to expect anything more... I wouldn't want to be unfair.

But, no, bad sex isn't always still pretty good.