Laying CB to rest

Here is the response I got:


First of all, I don't accept apologies when someone says, "I apologize." It's too clinical. Unless it's an "I'm sorry," it's no good.

Secondly, he was trying to make up for being a dick by asking me out and then telling me I'm paying?

I just don't get this guy.

He He

For some reason, it felt really good to send this e-mail to CB this morning:

I thought by just not responding he would take the hint, but apparently not. Perhaps it's a power thing: turning boys away.

A rant: I'm furious

I was at a private party Friday night in Andy's neighborhood, so I thought I would give him a call to see if he wanted to come over. He sounded excited and he met up with me.

We sat at a table in front of a fire place, drinking 16 oz cans of Coors Light. Only I could "declass" a nice bar with cans of cheap beer. We are still in the "getting to know you" phase and the conversation circled around very basic questions, ie where did you grow up, how many siblings do you have, etc.

I don't know how the conversation took a wrong turn, but it did.

And by wrong turn, I mean drove off a closed road.

I can't pin point how it started, but Andy began airing all his family's dirty laundry to me. Which brother's kid isn't really his, which sister had the abortion, typically stuff you wouldn't admit to ever, or at least would wait a considerable amount of time.

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was nerves, maybe he's a really open guy like that.

Then he turns the conversation towards his love life and I got the low down on the last 7 years of his romantic life. I know it's been 2 years since he's gotten laid. Or a blow job. His last girlfriend was a little shy in the bedroom. I know this stuff, and frankly, I didn't want or need to know most of it. He says how much he's been hurt and he's going to take his next relationship extremely slow.

I excuse myself and go into the bathroom and call Christopher. Sex would be good right now. The dirty kind.

Talking with Andy really bothered me for 2 reasons:

1. He didn't ask me anything about myself. Granted, he knows more about me because of my blog, but I would have liked to have felt a part of the conversation, not just some pretty blonde bobble head doll that swigs from her beer can.
2. (Get ready for it...) Who does he think he is? Does he really think his pain is special? By the time you're our age and unattached, chances are you've been hurt. What makes him think that he's so goddamn special that he gets to whine about it on a Friday night! I've been hurt, much more recently than him -- you all saw it, and although I think I have some trust issues, you know what I did? I dusted myself off and I got back up. In case you haven't noticed, I put myself out there. BIG TIME. I don't, however, tell a guy I *just* met how much I've been hurt and, to please be careful with me, because I'm a delicate flower.
   Is this what guys do these days? Is this their new m.o.? Becker did the same thing, my skanky ex this and my skanky ex that. Are guys just playing the I've-been-hurt card to make them appear sensitive to the opposite sex? 'Cause let me tell you, this is not sexy. First of all, you're really just talking all about yourself -- a subject you love. Secondly it's just making you look weak. Yeah, let me hear how damaged you are. Don't tell me you were obsessed with a girl for a year, because that's just scary. And don't tell me that you're glad you dated her anyways or otherwise you'd still be obsessed, because that's scarier. Way to make the girl effing sitting in front of you feel special. Good job on that. I honestly feel no sympathy for you.

It's a harsh attitude, I know, but I've never mentioned an ex while out with another guy. I wouldn't give my exes the satisfaction of me still talking about them. It's not about the exes, it's about the goddamned person in front of you. You know, the one that brushed her teeth and combed her hair for you. The one that actually wanted to spend time with you instead of some pathetic fantasy.

If you're a guy and you're reading this, I hope you're taking notes. I have no tolerance for this. None whatsoever.

Let's talk about sex

I found this poem recently and I love it. I find it really empowering and liberating. The voice obviously does not partake in sex without love, yet she is jealous of the act. She views those who do it as "purists" which is rather ironic because sex without love is a sin in God's eyes. It's a clinical look at love, acknowledging the partner as simply a factor.

I identify with this poem because that's how I've felt towards my relationship with Christopher. During sex, I'm not thinking about him. I don't even look at him if I can help it. I think about me and concentrate on me, something I don't think I do enough of in general. I feel alone, but in a good way, like a runner as the poem illustrates.

I'm so glad I found something that can articulate how I feel. She wants what I have. She wants to be me.

A little dog and pony show

Whether it's a virtue or a vice, I have the ability to train myself to think certain ways. If I tell myself something long enough, I'll start to believe it.

When I first started this blog, my main thought was to get back together with my boyfriend and land the ring and the house. When I was around my family on Thanksgiving and Christmas, they would bring up past boyfriends and ask me what they're up to these days, always interjecting how much they liked them and missed them being around. Whenever subject of Sarah being the only one not married came up, I would make a face and pretend that I didn't want marriage. In truth, I was too embarrassed to admit that I did want it, but I just failed at obtaining it.

And of course because I had this facade about marriage going on, I also had to adopt the same position about kids. I always thought I would be pregnant by 26, but once again, I didn't want to admit this to my family and let them know what a failure their daughter and sister is.

I would make the face and crack the jokes:

"I'll think about marriage when my looks start to go."

"I'll have kids when I'm 40, dried up, and in a good AA program."

Everyone would laugh and clap their hands. At first it hurt a little every time I made the song and dance because I knew it was such a lie. Soon it would hurt a little less. Then it became fun. I liked this carefree personality; I aspired to become it. I love feeling audacious.

Christopher was talking to me the other day about his brother's wedding. It was just moved to St. Barts and it's going to be a very small affair.

"That's awesome," I said.
"But it's just going to be us," he said. I gathered that he was not happy about the change of plans.
"That's what I'm going to do," I continued, "Elope. Go to Vegas and pocket all that wedding money to use on a house. Marriages don't last anyways, why spend money on them?"

Christopher was silent. I stepped back and took in what I just said. It was no longer the song and dance -- I didn't have to formulate my words and plan my jokes like I was used to doing. I just spewed that out.

Have I been playing the part so long that I just perfected the routine? Or do I believe that? Have I really become that cynical?

I don't know.

My blog description reads, "I'm looking for love. Here's hoping I find it one day." and that's just not true anymore. I've been wanting to change it but "Want a fling? Give Sarah a ring!" doesn't sound the same.

I'm not thinking about marriage anymore. I'm not thinking about love anymore. I can't even imagine a monogamous relationship. Audacious people can't be easily tamed, whether or not I'm still playing the part, or have become one.

I don't know the difference and I don't have the answers to these questions and it terrifies me.

There must be something in the water

Yesterday was a big day for me. I was congratulating myself on a job well done with the Christopher situation. I'm going to go ahead and say that he missed me and that his behavior was not because he was drinking. I even believe that, at times, he even looked at me differently. He'd look sideways at me and I just felt that there was a secret between us we shared. I don't know what the secret is, but one was there.

Andy and I e-mailed each other all day long and I returned his Sunday call after work. I know it's very early with him, but I think I could really like him in the future.

While I'm on the phone with Andy, Becker calls. I've haven't spoken to him since the ex-girlfriend incident. I called him back after I got off the phone with Andy and Becker is just in this great mood. He told me he got a full-time job and he's moving out of his mother's house in the next couple of weeks. He e-mailed me a picture of him -- he finally got the haircut I wanted him to have and he got hot fast. He was just so excited and talking about places he wanted to take me, telling me he would pay. It was cute.

While checking my e-mail, I get a message from CB. I had completely forgotten about him. He writes that he thinks of me every time he sees any "Walk the Line" stuff (It was the movie we saw) which is apparently all the time because they are promoting that DVD like crazy. He finishes the e-mail with this:


It reminded me of how he asked me out for a second date and then informed me I was paying. I wrote him back and I asked him why he was such a jerk to me the last time I saw him when he threw another temper tantrum. I have no plans to see him again.

It rained yesterday; it also poured.

Booze, bubbles, and boys

By this weekend I was pretty much resigned to the fact that Christopher was never going to call me after my last psycho-PMS encounter. My feelings weren't hurt and I didn't feel too badly over it, only that I couldn't believe I made that mistake and Christopher really was the best sex of my life and I was scared my sexual future was going to be a downhill adventure.

I had drunk-dialed Andy Friday night, who was happy to hear from me and left it asking me to call Saturday to make sure I got home safely. I called him Sunday morning when I was shopping and I was waiting to hear back from him.

My phone rings, but it's not Andy's ringtone. Gorillaz's "Feel Good Inc" was playing and only 2 boys have that song in my phone. The other boy is Nick, from last December, and he's currently in Banff. I pick up my phone and sure enough Christopher's picture was glowing on the display.

So when I want Christopher to call, Andy does, and when I want Andy to call, Christopher does.

Story of my life, but not a bad predicament.

Christopher tells me he just got his phone fixed Saturday and he was out with Maddy Saturday night. I knew better than to bring up the last time I saw him, or even ask why he didn't call the night I needed to stay at his place that resulted with me falling asleep at the wheel and spending $80 on a new tire.

He tentatively asks about my plans the past couple of weeks. I omit a lot.

"So what was the name of the guy you hooked up with?" He asks. Christopher begins his games almost immediately into the conversation.

"Which one?" I respond, trying to sound like I didn't catch on to him.

He invites me over. I know he was drinking, but he was uncharacteristically nice. I met him at a bar and he buys my drink. At his place, he keeps his arm around me while we watch basketball. Then he wants to spoon me on the couch. When I said my stomach wasn't settling well and I wanted to sit in the bath, he lit candles, added bubbles, and joined me -- all things he's never done before. Then, wait for this, he tells me to kiss him good night when we're in bed.

Andy calls while we're snuggling on the couch. I didn't answer, but I was also purposely vague with my response when Christopher asked who Andy was.

He wanted me to call in to work this morning so we could spend more time in bed together, but I said I couldn't do that the Monday after St. Patrick's Day, it would look too bad, so I left him sleeping. I don't know if Christopher missed me the last couple of weeks or he was just drunk and friendly or what, but I definitely liked it.