The one who left for a three month Zen Buddhist retreat

It would be just my luck to meet someone right before they left for three months to find peace meditating in the mountains. Additionally, I’m not sure how he feels about me, but when is that ever the case, especially right when you meet someone?

I met the Music Engineer at a party where I was providing the iPod mix. He recognized one of the tracks he put together in his studio on it and took a liking to me immediately. I think he gave me his card twice. He’s kinda funny looking but still very handsome and cute.

And even though I never share names on this blog, let me just tell you that his name is one of my all time favorite names in the world and when I start having children, if my husband doesn’t have this name, I think one of my children might have to. It would also be a great name for a dog or cat. That’s how much I love this name.

ANYWAY, I followed up with the Music Engineer like a good networker should and we ended up having lunch, which he paid for. And I thought, hmm, that’s nice of him to have paid for that. Was that a date?

I called him a few days later to see if he wanted to hang out that evening. He told me he would let me know if he could, and emailed me the next day explaining that he ended up working until midnight with no offer to reschedule. I thought maybe he was blowing me off until I got an invitation from him to a going away party; he was leaving for a Zen Buddhist retreat in 10 days and would be gone for three months. That explains that maybe he wasn’t blowing me off, just that he had another things on his mind.

I figured that was that, but then he called and invited me to a wine tasting party that evening. Even though I was battling a cold, I went. We had a great time and there was even a strange moment where a friend of his said that’s a long time to go away and the Music Engineer and I exchanged what I understood to be, a yup-it’s-a-long-time-and-our-timing-is-terrible look.

So long story short, I missed my train and ended up having to stay at his house, on the couch. The Music Engineer lives at his recording studio, so he sleeps upstairs in the loft. So I could hear him, and he could hear me cough and sniffle all night.

Hot. I am super hot.

And, I didn’t know if I ended up on the couch because I was sick, or because I was going to end up there anyway.

In the morning we had breakfast and talked music, it was fine. I still felt a little awkward about it, but he was great about it.

I went to his going away party, had a great time. Met his Dad and a bunch of his awesome friends. I even made some musical connections that might prove to be very useful.

I emailed him later to say thank you and that I’d love to see him before he left if it was possible, but I totally understand if it’s not. He was trying to wrap up a bunch of projects before he left. I promised I would send him postcards.

He’s leaving in two days and I’m now having fantasies about him calling and asking for one last night of earthly pleasure before he goes to full on monkland and how that conversation would go. Of course I would agree.

I'll let you know if I hear from him. But otherwise I’ll be sure to send him postcards.

The one who was a sexy kisser

I met the Hipster Lawyer online. He had a picture of him and Henry Rollins in the most hipster bars of hipster-dom in town. His handle was something about music being his crack.

I had to write to him:

"Please save some of that crack for me, I need the music to survive as well."

Hipster Lawyer was humanitarian lawyer, you know, the sexiest type of lawyer. He worked from home, so he didn't look like a lawyer at all. He was scruffy with overgrown hair. He was a little bit older than me, and super hot.

At the end of our first date (at a bar) he kissed me on the cheek and gave me a big bear hug. I loved it. At the end of our second date (also at a bar), I got out of the car claiming that I wanted a hug, and oops - we made out a little bit and...

OH-MY-GOD he might have been the best kisser EVER. A little nip there, suck there and oh-LORD-wowie-wow. I was hooked. Too bad he was aloof, texting me back at weird intervals and not contacting me at all after our dates. It was all me.

I'm not so good with waiting for guys to ask me out again if they make me wait for a few days. I figure, I want more, I'm going to go out and try to get more. Men are stupid and don't know what they want... HA! Wait, that never really works... but I do it anyway because I get antsy. I read "He's Not that Into You" and sadly, it's true. If they want to see you more, they'll make it happen.

But I just wanted to kiss him more. Really.

The third date we went to a music festival in town and were going to meet up with a bunch of his friends. All of them bailed except for this one girl. I asked him how he knew her,

"We used to date, is that okay?"

Sure it's okay, she was nice. And weirdly enough, it was nice to have someone else there to talk to. Definitely a sign that Hipster Lawyer and I were not meant to be. She just seemed a little nervous and was worrying about everything. I told her so - to her face. That might have been a bad move on my part because he asked me about it later. Was I annoyed with her? No. She was just worrying a lot.

We did get to kiss in the car later, and I told him that the only reason I keep called him is because of that. He seemed into it. We meshed that way.

Didn't hear from him again... but I figured I'd make a move anyway and ask him to a show. I heard back THREE DAYS later claiming that he'd like to go but had to "be up early the next morning."'

So I let Hipster Lawyer slip away. I did, at least, get some good kisses out of it.

The one who wasn't crazy enough

The Professor was nerdy and cute, just the way I like ‘em. But one thing kept us from really connecting: he just wasn’t that crazy. And I mean crazy in that dirty, playful kind of way.

The Professor was seven years older than me and a math professor at a small Catholic college (a good place for a nice Jewish boy). I met him on that Jewish dating website. His pictures were nothing special, I think what drew me to him was his love for his students. I was in academia once upon a time, so I could definitely relate.

The Professor also loved music.

He sang in a local choir, liked to jam out to Billy Joel and musicals on his keyboard. We bonded over our love for the Camina Burana. He didn’t own a pair of jeans, was allergic to cats and lactose intolerant. He also danced like a white man should. You know, like my Dad.

Sounds like my type right?

He hadn’t had a lot of girlfriends either, surprised? Turns out, The Professor had dated a woman a year before me who he said showed him “the ropes” (remember he was seven year older than me, putting him in his mid 30s). So once he worked up the courage to kiss me, we entered that territory.

We would make out on his couch and then he would say “Want to go inside?” Meaning, “let’s go in the bedroom and get naked.” Whoever this woman was that he dated the year before taught him well in some areas but I don’t know what was going on in others. He was good with his hands, but when it came to “performing” it just wasn’t there. I blamed it on nerves and figured maybe it would get better in time, but no dice.

He just also wasn’t “crazy.” I mean there was no passion in the bedroom, he wasn’t into trying something different and I didn’t know what to make of it. Was The Professor still nervous? Was he just too nerdy? Was he just not comfortable? Was he really a 17 year-old boy and had an aging disease? WHAT? And of course I was too weirded out to ask him. I figured we’d work it out if and when we had to.

What was bizarre about that though is that just being around The Professor physically excited me. So there was definitely something going on there.

We had only been seeing each other for three months and he was scheduled to go away for six weeks for the summer to visit his family. About two weeks before he was supposed to go he had a little picnic in the park with some of his friends. I noticed that he wouldn’t show me any affection in front of them, it was really awkward and it made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t feel this way when I had met his friends before and he hadn't acted in the same way.

I confronted The Professor about this the next day and all he could say is that we didn’t have that "lovely- dovey" vibe he wanted. So I said, well, I’m not waiting around six weeks for us to figure it out. So I guess I’m just going to go home.

And that was that.

And it was okay. I needed to go find me some dorky AND crazy.

I know he's out there somewhere. I keep getting closer and closer to him. I can feel it.

The one who was the Perfect Gentleman

I met the Perfect Gentleman on that free website, he was from the South and worked on the creative side of computer programming, to the point that he was not just your regular computer programmer guy. He was a little extra nerdy, if that was even possible.

We met at a club where his friends’ band was going to play. This was also a band he used to be in, but it seemed that he was more interested in talking to me and listening to the music (which he told me he never really liked anyway).

The Perfect Gentleman paid for the tickets and bought a round of drinks. I liked him immediately. He was cute, but had a face had a quality that can only be described as being a little squished (but it was cute). I liked his build: he wasn’t much taller than me, but was a little thick. I like them like that.

I met his friends before they went on stage, they all seemed perfectly nice, which is always a good sign. I bought another round of drinks and the Perfect Gentleman and I continued to have good, intelligent conversation about music and art and I even tried my best to understand what he does at his profession. There was chemistry, body language and grazing knees. He also had a fabulous laugh, something I personally love.

After the band was done, I suggested going to get some food since I hadn't eaten dinner. We went around the corner to a Polish restaurant and chatted more. I even broached the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, a topic he didn’t seem too excited to continue.

The Perfect Gentleman then walked me to my car, put his hands on my waist, kissed me good night (a nice quick peck on the kips), and told me that he was going to be out of town for the weekend just so I knew. I offered him a ride home, but he declined like a perfect gentleman and insisted on taking a cab home.

I couldn’t believe what a perfectly respectful first date it was. There was no pressure, I knew he liked me, I knew I liked him and he had paid for virtually everything and yet didn’t mind when I bought a round of drinks. I figured it was the Southern thing, but whatever it was, he was the Perfect Gentleman.

The weekend came and went, with no word from him. Not even an email the next day saying it was nice meeting me. By Monday evening I was starting to get antsy, so I called him and asked him out. The Perfect Gentleman seemed perfectly excited to go out again.

So the following Wednesday, exactly a week after our first date, I picked him up at the train station (after a misunderstanding of which train station he was supposed to get out at. Men: they’re not so great at following directions are they sometimes?) and took him to a good and not too expensive restaurant. We split a salad and a pizza and then went to a cool bar for some bluegrass, a game of scrabble and some drinks.

I had a great time with him. Again, the conversation was good and while we were picking out which game to play, the body chemistry was there. He laughed his hardy laugh at my jokes and I got him back on the train after midnight worried that he might miss that last one back to his house.

When I dropped him off at the train, he said he had fun and that we would talk soon. We had and awkward good bye as we turned sideways in the car to hug, I think he might have been going for a kiss but it was weird. So as he was getting out of the car, I pulled him back and laid a fat one on him. We made out for maybe a total of 30 seconds. I can’t say he was a great kisser, but he wasn’t bad either.

I drove home with a smile on my face. In recent memory I could not think of a dating experience that had gone this well. It was so normal! I do not have normal healthy dates, I just don’t.

I figured it was his turn to call and ask me out on a third date. A few days went by: nothing. A week went by: nothing. I don’t know what happened! 

I mean, the only thing I can possibly think that went wrong was that I farted while we were at the bar on our second date, was that it? Are farting girls a turn off for him? Are girls that kiss him a turn off? DAMN!! Is he that much of a Perfect Gentleman? Like Rhett Butler? I mean if Scarlett had farted, would Rhett have ceased to like her?

I just can’t get this right can I?

I decided to let it go, and not call him again. I am not a stalker. I refuse to do all the work.

I did have a moment of satisfaction when I was chatting with a friend of a friend a couple weeks later who knew the Perfect Gentleman. Turns out she had his old job and was rewriting all of his code. Turns out he wasn’t much better at his job than he was at dating.

The one who lied about his height

Marc’s online profile said that he was 5’5” tall. I’m 5’3” on a good day, and when I wore 2” heels, I was definitely taller than him.

I know that some women are very picky about the height of the men they date. My thing is that I don’t like my man being smaller than me. And I mean this in that he can’t be super skinny, because I don’t want to feel like I’m going to crush him. I might be able to do tall and skinny, but I’d rather date someone with some girth. This is why I didn’t mind that Marc lied about his height, he was a thick guy (not fat at all) so I never felt huge hanging out with him.

The chemistry between us was evident even before we met in person. I sent him an email and even before he saw it he instant messaged me. I guess we both just really liked what we saw. (Since then he's taken down the good picture from his profile and replaced it with a really bad one, what is he trying to prove??)

For my birthday I asked my Mom to buy me a subscription to this website that I had used a few years before. I was ready to get back into it. Marc was the first person I had met on there and was excited that I might not have to do through a bunch of ho-hum dates like I had before. This guy seemed exciting!

On our first date we met at this awesome bar in a cool neighborhood that served every kind of hard liquor you could want. I noticed that the menu organized the Scotches by geographical location (which as a Scotophile, really appealed to me), and they had Scotch from the one distillery I had visited while touring Scotland. So I ordered one, and then another (but didn’t drink it all because after all, I did have to drive home).

Marc and I were getting along wonderfully. As soon as he walked in I thought he was adorable. He grinned at me the whole night. Marc walked me to my car on the way home and held my hand, but asked me if it was okay first. It was cute.

I dropped him off at his apartment and we made out for a while. He did that thing were he put his hands around my head and tugged on my hair a little bit. It was hot, but I had to kick him out of my car anyway.

We made plans for him to come out to my neighborhood a couple days later. And so he did.

For our second date I got us into this nice restaurant that my friend managed down the street from my house. She took good care of us and we got free drinks and dessert. Then we went across the street and drank some more, right through the last train back to his neck of the woods. So, well, he just had to spend the night.

This boy was so cute and sweet. The only thing I had paid for was the drinks at the bar. He wanted to wait to have sex, but that didn’t keep us from having other fun.

The next morning however was a little weird. We walked down to the main street to get coffee and to the farmers market and he just seemed tired/moody/regretful/hung-over… something! I felt a little put out, and offered to take him to the train sooner, but he insisted he was okay. He said he had fun as I dropped him off and kissed me good-bye, but I still felt that something was off.

I tried not to worry about it, but of course I did anyway.

So shoot me.

I'm a girl.

I worry.

I over analyze.

I drive myself crazy.

And blame it on him.

A day or two later when I was at my aunts house for dinner, he texts me, asking me to meet up with him and his friends. They wanted to grab a guitar and have a little bit of a sing-a-long/jam session. I told him that I was having dinner with my family and that it might be a little while until I got out of there. Then he kinda begged me to come meet them as soon as possible.

So I did.

Marc had an interesting day: his best friend had come out to him and I think he needed al little bit of emotional support. He was cool with it and still loved the guy, but it was still a little shocking. But we had a fine time singing and playing guitar, and after, I went home with him.

And it was fun.

We tried some things that I had never done before (like becoming a kinky boot beast myself!). And I guess it could have been *better*, but like I’ve said before, I’m a tough costumer and figure that by the way things were going with us, there would be plenty more opportunities for us to get more comfortable with each other.

Another thing that I was interesting to me was that in that past I’ve had problems looking guys in the eye in intimate situations. I like remember that it made me uncomfortable looking some guys in the eye when we were in bed. But I had not problem looking Marc in the eye.

I just thought he was so cute.

Anyway, the next day we slept in a little, but then he had to meet someone, so I got kicked out. And I say this in the nicest way possible. I felt weird about it, but sometimes it just feels weird the next morning and you’re not included in the day’s schedule. So I went home.

And then the real weirdness started, much like what I described in the one who stood me up on New Year’s Eve. I didn’t hear from him for like five days. Now, I knew he had a crazy job managing a swanky hotel restaurant downtown that demanded a lot of his time and energy, but I would have liked to have heard SOMETHING.

So I get a little restless, and start to get frustrated (hence the entry about the one who stood me up on New Year's Eve).
To summarize the next few weeks, he started backing off, and I think I didn’t want to admit that. So I would bug him and try to make plans, or I invited him out. He was tired. He had no energy. But he seemed to still be into me, maybe...I did stay over one more time and had to leave early in the morning.

Then his boss at his job changed his schedule so that his two days off landed right in the middle of the week and his shift was 7am-3pm. He was bummed. I think he convinced himself that his social life was over.

He told me that “he needed to figure things out” over a text. I didn’t text him back. He texted me last weekend while I was up in the mountains far far away from a cell signal. He texted me again and thought I was ignoring him. Today I emailed him and told him that I don't ignore people, I'm a better person than that. And also that he's not the only one who's having a rough time right now, I am too. He wants to meet to talk. I just want a sweater back that I left at his house.

I wonder what he wants to talk about. This is such a break from the usual pattern! Is he actually going to apologize?? If he does, and I can lay the smack down, I'll think about going out with him again.

It’s just depressing that something that hot simmered out so quickly, like in a week! And I know that there’s a serious ex-girlfriend in the recent past that Marc was living with, but I haven't hear much about that.

Maybe it was too hot and intense and he freaked.

Maybe he just really had to get laid, because no one wanted to go out with a short man. But for a little while there it seemed like we might have something more than that.

So I feel that because I’ve been treated badly, it is my right to make fun of his height, even though it didn’t bother me in the least. No wait, it’s not that I want to make fun of his height, it’s more that I want to make fun of the fact that he LIED ABOUT IT on his profile. Because you know what, I’m sure that lots of women aren’t interested in being taller than their man.

But why replace the good picture with a crappy one? I don't get it.


***UPDATE***

Just had a rather intense conversation where I listened to Marc try to explain why we haven't seen each other in a couple weeks. And you know what? I'm not sure I understand exactly what he wanted to say. Something like it got too intense (especially physically) too quickly (for him) and he got uncomfortable and then the work shit got in the way and made him depressed. We sat there in silence a few times where he was trying to form the sentences.

I think he was trying to say that he's not "breaking up with me" but he never really did say that. And maybe we could try again or something.

I told him that I honestly did know if I wanted to or not. And yes, he fucked up and I'm used to guys doing this (the backing off and making it seem like they're not interested) and while it sucks, I'll get over it. In fact, I am over it. If we had this conversation two weeks ago, it would be difference. But I know how to protect myself, I move on.

But I did stress that I appreciated this conversation and that when guys had pulled this shit in the past, I never really got to have this kind of talk.

I told him that obviously he had some stuff he had to work out and that if he wanted to call me, he could call me, if not, whatever. I just want my sweater back.

He said that I often left that duty on him, and I said 1) that's not true, you didn't call and I was the one who bugged you to go out and 2) I don't want to be the annoying girl. If you want to go out with me, you want to go out with me. If not, I'm not going to be annoying about it, even if in my head I'm going insane. He said that I wasn't annoying, and I said, well good, that means I did it right. Cause man, I could be really FUCKING annoying if I let myself. You know, like calling you over and over again and wondering if you were thinking of me one, two and three days after we had sex. You know, cause THAT would be annoying. Instead I left myself go crazy and let 5 days go by before I called him.

So he wants to give me my sweater in person. I said fine. But let's wait til next week. I really don't want to deal with him right now. I'm also going out with someone else this weekend, who I haven't made out with yet.

I think I'm going to send Marc an email saying two more things. 1) You pulled this shit right before my birthday and valentines day and that was really lame and 2) You wouldn't have wanted me to have been as annoying as I cold have been.

Email or no? He seems to care. I'm going to do it. It will make me feel better....

ok, I ended the email with:

"oh, and if someone ever calls you for a surprise make out session and you ignore it... that's a sure way to make someone feel like shit. Because that's probably one of the coolest , rarest and fun things that anyone will do, and that's just the kind of girl I am."

And damn it! I am the COOLEST, RAREST and FUN girl you'll ever meet, and if you're too stupid to notice it, then see ya fucker!

Thanks for letting me vent. Sorry if this didn't make any sense, it's good to work it out and try to see what exactly just happened...

The one who stood me up on New Year's Eve

Okay, I really, really, really hate this shit. Why tell someone that you have a connection with them and then stand them up on New Year's Eve of all nights? That's just mean. What did I do to deserve that kind of treatment? And it's not like the one who when to the bathroom and didn't come back This one is worse because I was emotionally involved...

I met Darren online (for those of you that know the current situation, this is a reflection of current anxieties, not necessarily current status, but you never know, there might be a blog next week about it). He worked as a manager of a video store and lived in a studio apartment behind the park. Granted he wasn't the most ambitious among them, but whatever, on our second he looked deep into my eyes and asked "we have a connection don't we?"

I was swept up in it. I didn't know if I felt exactly what he was feeling, but I liked that prospect of someone feeling that way about me. And I liked him enough to enjoy the attention.

It could have been in a line, it could have been how he actually felt at the time. I don't know. But I do know that it was one of the most short-lived intense "relationships" I've ever had.

I understand that this happens from time to time, but I feel like this has become a pattern in my dating life:
1. I meet someone.
2. I experience really intense feelings for them.
3. We get physical pretty quickly.
4. He does something that hurts me or bugs me.
5. I call him out on it.
6. I never hear from him again.
7. I don't really know why and it takes awhile for me to accept that I will not be hearing from him.

It's often that one of these steps might be left out. We might not get physical, I might not call him out on something he did, because sometimes they disappear before I'm able to. Sometimes they don't even do anything wrong, they just disappear, and I'm left feeling that I did something wrong, even though I know I didn't.

But the end is always the same: I'm left waiting for a phone call or an email that never comes. Because of this I prefer being dumped, and while that's never fun either, at least I'm not left wondering. I get the closure to a "relationship" that happened so fast that sometimes I feel like it never happened at all. And otherwise, waiting is just a damn waste of my time.

Anyway, back to Darren, he got me into bed on the second or third date. I could regret this, but I decided to do it, and I stand by my decisions in life. I don't regret them, especially when it comes to feeling alive in a moment. I certainly could have said 'no,' but when I like a guy, it's really hard to say 'no,' and, like I said, I don't regret wanting to act on my feelings. I'm not good at that. I'm a bit of a heathen that way.

My mom once told me, in a very shocking conversation (because I view my mother is quite a prude: she once asked me what it was like to have sex wearing a condom, because she never had!!! I did not answer this question), that I should not jump into bed so quickly. You know me, I'm a slut! Such a dirty slut! You know you are when you're under-sexed mother calls you one!

But, and here's where the story gets super awesome, while Darren and I were having sex (which I don't remember being that awesome), the condom came loose (cause I've never had sex without one, Mom!) and came off without either of us noticing. Wait! You say, "guys should notice that!" Well this one didn't, and I surly didn't.

Well Darren didn't seem to be too bothered by this, and I didn't want to freak out right there in front of him. We might have had a little chat and that was it, it got uncomfortable and we changed the subject.

What sucked even more is that this happened right before Christmas, so Plan Parenthood wasn't open for three days or so, and I wanted to get the morning after pill just in case. I had to wait 72 hours. It was a pretty intense three days.

Darren didn't seem to mind though. He was working overtime because of the holiday season and I didn't see him.

You'd think that that would be enough for me to forget about him, but no. I figured that maybe it was just too awkward and he was just being a guy who gets squimish about anything related to the female reproductive system. Don't know why I would have chosen to have a guy around like that, but hey...

We did though make plans to spend New Year's Eve together though, and I was hoping to ask him to pay for half of the pill that I eventually bought (that shit ain't cheap).

But the motherfucker stood me up. I spent the evening at a couple of parties with some friends, I wasn't alone thank god, and he never got in touch with me.

I was pissed, I was really pissed.

I left for home on January 1st, the next day, and eventually got in touch with him on the phone and told him off. I remember the conversation well. I was in the Modern Art Museum, but not in the galleries, in the lobby. I have a little bit of class!

"I don't deal well with flakes and people that are unreliable, I experienced that too much in high school and I don't stand for it anymore."

Darren apologized. Turns out the loser was at a friends house and was too high AND drunk to get his ass off the couch, or even to send me a text message or voice mail explaining his condition.

For some reason I didn't even dump him there, I was going to give him another chance.

I get back to town a week or so later and call him.

I don't hear back.

I maybe called him a week later, no response.

The idiot probably did me a favor actually, now that I'm thinking about how pathetic I was being. I wonder if the dating gods believe that I subject myself to people treating me like crap, so they keep these "relationships" short so that I don't get too involved before I really get hurt. It's better this way.

You'd think that from this story I have super low self-esteem, but you know what? When you have intense feelings for someone and you want to see where the feelings might go, it's easy to give someone a second chance, and a third, and maybe a fourth if they're still around.

What really bugs me about this is that Darren figured that because we had only been dating for a few weeks, he didn't need to "break up" with me and that disappearing was a justified action. Or he was just a pussy, which I think would be more likely, except that others have disappeared on me as well.

I guess most men just are pussies.

I've actually wondered if I should actually take a listen to my mom's advice and not give it up so quickly. But this girl gets starved for attention! I'm not gonna lie! And when it's in my face and I like what's in my face (this part is important, I'm picky!) it's hard to say "no!" In fact, it usually doesn't even occur to me to say 'no.'

So who knows what to do?

The one who had an open marriage

Yes, I was the other woman, or An-other woman. But I didn't want to be a home wrecker.

I met Paul at the airport when an ice storm kept me from making the last leg of my trip. Not knowing how long we would be held up, a group of us decided to band together and figure out alternate ways of getting home.

First four of us tried to get a rental car. But decided that it might not be a good idea because of the ice. So we were directed to the train, which would only take a little bit longer than driving, and would be safer and cheaper.

Paul was a normal looking guy who was coming back from a job interview. He had been in the Navy and was very outright flirty (and a little dirty). It was pretty insane. I was very embarrassed and flattered all at the same time.

He honestly explained to me that he had an open marriage with his wife. They could sleep with whomever they wanted as long as they told the other person and kept the details to a minimum.

Paul had only used this freedom only once before while his wife engaged in extramarital sex quite frequently. He said it didn't bother him. As long as it didn't detract from their relationship, it was fine.

I was intrigued, I had never been involved in anything like that before. Paul had a lot of sexual energy which I thought was hot and he was totally digging me. I believed him (my friends were skeptical) and figured as long as it was all part of the arrangement, I wasn't doing anything I would later regret. And, well, I could use some amazing sex. Couldn't we all? I was okay with the fact that it might only be that: sex.

So we made out on the train a little and Paul was an amazing kisser. I was excited to see what the future might have in store.

We emailed back and forth a few days and he ended up coming over during one day. I'm pretty sure he thought that I was this wild thing that had all of this kinky sex. In reality, I haven't, and am still learning the basics of what I like and what really works for me.

He asked me all these questions and I didn't know how to answer them, and I was kinda embarrassed that I couldn't answer them. Like, "can you have multiple orgasms?" I mean I don't even necessarily even know how to answer "what's your favorite position?" I know it's sad, and hopefully I'll know the answers to these questions. Just blame it on the one who didn't know how to make up for it (who's going to be in town soon and wants to see me, what do we think about that?? Please comment.)

And being with Paul for a couple hours in the middle of the day was not the time or place for me to spill my guts on the emotional and sexual disappointments of my previous sexual relationships. So I just got quite and said we could do whatever he wanted.

It was certainly fun, but what I really didn't like about it was that after he would finish, he would just hop off of me and head to the bathroom to clean up. No cuddling, no kissing.

I'm done and I'm dirty! Need to clean up. Thanks, I'll call you later when I have some time between classes and feeling horny!

Talk about feeling weird. Not cheap, but it was definitely strange.

I was not upset that I would never exclusively have him, it never entered my mind since it was never a possibility.

He came over one other time after that. And I'm not super proud of this, but he told his wife about me and she got jealous and didn't want to have an open marriage anymore. It came out that she had been using the arrangement as a way to make him jealous, which I assume didn't work. But he told her that he liked me and wanted to see it out. For some reason I didn't kick him out of my apartment right then and there. We had sex again, I felt the same way and didn't want to see him anymore after that. It certainly wasn't worth it.

I then started seeing the one who had been celibate for five years and Paul helped me through a momentary freak out that I had over him.

Paul and his wife moved away. He had been offered several jobs, a couple in really cool cities, but she wanted to be closer to her family and ended up in some awful suburban town in the middle of nowhere.

I definitely don't regret the encounter, but I did learn about myself that sex just for the sake of sex was really not fulfilling to me at all.

This is why I've happily made a decision to stay away from situations like that. There's nothing wrong with sex for the sake of sex, but maybe it's just not for me. It also means that I only had sex once in the year after that.

The one who made my heart skip a beat

I know it sounds totally cliche and silly, but that's the only way I really know how to explain it.

Joey would smile at me as he passed by and I would get that crazy nervous feeling in my stomach, one that I would later feel when climbing the stairs to my dorm room and the one who was painfully shy. There was one time where we were talking and because he was looking right in my eyes, I literally could not speak. I was physically unable to so.

Joey was a year ahead of me and I first remember having a crush on him in in 7th grade. I was lucky enough to be one of the nine little ones to be cast in Anything Goes, the middle school musical. I was also one of the lucky ones to have a line. It was "I'm not a sinner!" Ironic, don't you think?

In the spring of my first year in junior high, I tried out for the softball team and auditioned for the musical. I didn't get onto the team but got cast in the musical, that was the end of sports for me. My fat ass and I would squeeze into costumes rather than do laps around the field. And I was happier for it.

Anyway, Joey had one of the main roles and had one of the most beautiful voices I had ever heard. Perhaps my earliest memory of him, and quite possibly the moment I started crushing hard, was when I witnessed a cartwheel attempt in the gym in front of everybody. He was probably trying to show off for the disproportionate percentage of girls in the room. He fell flat on his ass. It was one of our first cast meetings and it was all over for me.

Oh, how I loved the boy who landed on his ass.

I did my normal thing of trying to be his friend and get frustrated when he disappointed me.

I hated any girl who had a crush on him and was jealous of any girl that was a sincere friend of his. I remember hating this one girl with a passion, but she was a spoiled rotten bitch that had no sense of reality... I'm obviously over it. I'm sure she's a nice girl these days...

What was so bizarre about my crush on Joey is that he wasn't that good looking. Now my high school crush, he was the most beautiful boy I've ever been interested in, but Joey? Not really. But with my already established track record (remember the one who reminded us of Gonzo from fifth grade?), that's not a surprise.

I'm going to make a generalization now, one about children who are of mixed race parents, especially those that are half Caucasian and have Asian. They are usually very good looking, right? Really beautiful features and skin? Joey kinda got the wrong hald of the chromosomes. He had his Dad's bulbous Polish nose and he was bow-legged. But I thought he was dreamy, for years. I judge not by the book's cover. It must have been that voice, and that he had a sweet soul.

I think it might have all ended for me when I professed my love for him at the end of 8th grade. He would move to another campus and I wouldn't see him regularly again for another year, so I figured what the hell?

So I wrote a note, and gave it to my friend and she gave it to Joey.

No response.

Not a surprise.

What was I expecting?

There were rumors in high school that he was gay, or that all he wanted to do was get married and have as many babies as possible. He also became freakishly OCD. He continued to sing though, and I loved every minute of it. I think he's trying to be a jazz singer these days.

I ran into Joey and a high school friend of his at a bar when I was home from college once. I thought Joey was so boring t talk to. I had a much better time talking to his friend, who told me about his love for the Harry Potter books and persuaded me to read them for the first time.

There have been very few moments that I can recall in my live where I felt the way Joey's presence made me feel. And I'm still looking for that.

The one who really just needed to get laid

There was this guy named Glenn in one of my grad school bands, that as far as I'm concerned, just dripped sex. There was just so much sexual energy between us, it was ridiculous.

He had gorgeous long dark curly hair, not so different than the one who had great hair, had an awesome body (and wore t-shirts that showed it off), had a sweet disposition and would just smile at me. I'm sure I did the same back.

Man oh man, that year my band was overflowing with hotties; Thursday nights was three hours of eye-candy pleasure. The tattooed Eastern religion student, the flakey yet talented guitarist, the hot laid back lesbian keyboardist/saxophonist, the silly and conceited vocalist, and Glenn, the sexually frustrated percussionist.

There's not much to tell here but I would stare. I would. It was bad.

I learned at one point from a mutual friend that Glenn had recently gotten out of a bad relationship and was probably still very much healing from it. He had made out with a female friend of mine who would become the one and only girl I have ever referred to as my girlfriend, and she said that he was very sexually uptight because of the ex-girlfriend.

Well, we kinda skirted around actually hanging out, and one night we were supposed to have a drink and he just invited me over instead. And I'm like, "okay."

We had some beers, had sex and I went home early in the morning. Simple as that. Sometimes it just happens like that.

It wasn't so great unfortunately, but we both needed it, BADLY. Glenn met the love of his life soon after that. So I figure it was good that the sexual tension between us had been broken. There are times that it just needs to happen. And I didn't have to see him much after that, and when I did, it was fine.

Sometimes it's just been too long since the last time you got naked with someone, right?

The one who started my Scottish love affair

Who knows if this is the one that got away? Who knows if I would have been just as disappointed with this one as I have been with all the rest. *Sniff* I guess I'll never know.

There's not much to tell about Jon. My friend and I had just arrived in New Zealand and we were staying at a hostel in Christchurch, a small gorgeous city on the northeast side of the south island. We were just hanging out and chatting with two guys in the evening.

I remember it being relatively dark in the room cause the tv was on, but there was this Scottish guy named Jon and we just clicked. I was in love with the way he talked. He was sweet and funny. I don't even remember what we talked about. I think he had blonde hair that was thinning and wore John Lennon style glasses

I would have liked to see him again, but regrettably my friend and I were on a tight schedule to see the country and we had a bus to catch the next morning.

I told him when I would be back in a week or so since I had to take a ferry from Christchurch to get to the northern island and that I'd booked a bed in the same hostel for when we got back, he should come and find me.

So I go on my bus trip, see the Island, go sky-diving, cave spelunking, walk on a glacier, win a karaoke contest, swim with dolphins and whatever marvelous things New Zealand has to offer, all the while keeping my lovely Scotsman tucked in the back of my mind. For some reason we did not exchange emails, I don't know why.

I get back to Christchurch two weeks later, and there's no sign of him. I'm on my own at this point because my friend has stayed behind somewhere to do her own thing. I'm all bummed and disappointed, a familiar feeling that comes from getting my hopes up, and am sorry that I won't get a chance to talk to him again and have no idea where he is.

My friend gets to the hostel a couple days later after I've moved on by then and tells me that there's a note from Jon at the front desk of the hostel with my name on it. It says that he dropped by and the name of the place he's moved to HE HAD GOTTEN THE DAY WRONG and had been a couple days too late!

It made me very sad *sniff.*

I somehow had his Scotland address either from the note left at the hostel or from meeting him the first time. I think I wrote him a letter at some point, but never heard back.

I am grateful to him for starting my love affair with Scotland. Fell in love I tell you. I ended up Living there for two summers in a row a couple years later.

Even though it was a couple years later, I had quasi-fantasies about running into him. I never did get to the point of stalking him, fortunately, I think I had lost the address by then.

But I learned that a Scottish accent could make even a balding man sexy.

The one who had a girl's name

In grad school I went on a lot of dates. ALOT. I started making a list once. That list helps me with this blog a bunch, especially since many of these dates were only first dates and I can't remember a damn thing about them.

I went online dating crazy. Crazy I tell you! It was a great way for me to get out of the house, meet someone new, and hopefully do something fun. But there's this strange first date syndrome I fell into and didn't know what to do about.

The first date syndrome: I only really had a couple bad dates: there was the one who pissed me off, and the infamous one who went to the bathroom and never came back . I went out with a lot of nice interesting people. But because I met them online, I didn't know if there would be any chemistry, and usually there wasn't. So there would be no second date. And that was because neither one of us would call the other. It's not like we didn't have a good time or good conversation, there was just no, you know, spark. I enjoyed it for what it was and just moved on.

So I went on a lot of first dates.

I don't regret this, but sometimes wonder if I should I have given these guys another chance? If I ever did get a call for a second date, I usually took it, unless it was a for a very good reason. And even if I didn't have that feeling, I would usually give them another chance. If they liked me enough to ask me out again, I'd usually give it a go. But if there's no spark, there's no spark.

But after a first or second date, if they didn't want to see me again, and I felt no dying urge to get on the phone and ask them out, that was it. Onto the next one!

But the one I think about when I recall this slew of first dates only, is this guy named Lindsay. I remember him as being cute and nice. He had a girl's name, lived with his two brothers, drove this awesome 1970s woody truck with the really cool side paneling and took me bar hopping in a city that I was somewhat new to.

We met at a favorite place of mine, with local history, lots of cool old pictures on the walls and a fun staff. Then he took me to a new hipster bar on the east side where the neighborhood was being gentrified. And then we finished off the evening across the street from governmental buildings where there was a 24 hour session going on. There was a huge tv monitor set up in the bar so that when government officials came in to grab a drink, they wouldn't miss anything. It was hysterical.

Whenever think about Lindsay, I wonder if we should have at least become friends. But so it goes.

If there's no spark, there's just no spark.