Lonely Days and Lonely NIghts

I've lost track of time, but time has definitely passed.. days, weeks, months. Eight months in, and one dinner date weeks and weeks ago. I am definitively single. Again.

The question is whether to get back on a saddle again or not. So far, I've been leaning toward not. Pickings are slim, to be sure. Retirement is on a horizon (4 years out) and I certainly don't want to be tied to a place. Still, a lover would be nice.

So.. how does one go about finding  a lover? It's not exactly a question you can ask on a bar stool.. or maybe that's exactly what it is. Still, I'm a tad uncomfortable sliding up next to some good looking dude and saying "hey there. Want a lover for a few years?". It seems gauche to say the least. And I am certainly past my own prime, so what does that leave me? Old farts, drunks, and desperadoes. 

I could go online ... again..... sigh. But no. I'm tired of introducing myself, and the grand adventure a few years ago certainly did not result in any great discoveries. That's out to be sure. Not only would it be painful, I have a feeling the same guys that were there before are there still.. and truthfully, a fair number of them were married. Second Chair is not my place.

I suppose I am left to my own devices.

What's a Girl Gonna Do...

The relationship with Mr T, aka The Old Flame, seems to be a given for the time being. I'm still not convinced that he is a committed kind of guy, at least not for the long run, but I could be wrong. I've been wrong before.. as you all know... and then, of course, there is me. Could be I need to learn how to pick 'em. One hates to throw stones, in any case. For the time being, however, this is a great thing and I am enjoying myself more than any girl has a right to enjoy herself. Decadence may become my middle name after all.. perhaps I am D. Eca Dence rather than A. Tan Gledmess.. bears some thought.

The past couple of months, my silence has not been because I have nothing to say, but more because I have not had the time to say it. I also find that happiness breeds silence, contentment. I am off dating sites completely now- having neither the time nor the inclination to search further than my own backyard. As Auntie Em said, sometimes what we are looking for is there all along. I was thrilled to find he was still there.. and that he was willing and able to meet me halfway, all the way. I find the men on the dating sites tedious and uninteresting now. And, truth be told, the same guys are still hanging around there. I have a $100 that says they'll still be around in 5 years. Talk about folks who don't commit! I am inclined to believe in that old bird in hand cliche', especially when the bird in hand has me in his! 

Take this past week, for instance...

Having a day off midweek placed some time on my hands, so I placed myself in his. Now, Mr. T, he works midnights, so what would be an Afternoon Delight for some (me included), is his evening of fun and games. And you know, games are not like they used to be because these games are infused with love and tenderness. He handles me with expert care. He touches those parts of me that even I didn't know existed. He teases, he dares, he withholds until I am ready to go completely out of my mind, and then he blows my mind, over and over and over again. I can't breathe. I can't think. I certainly can't walk. And just when I think I have caught my breath, he is taking me to infinity and beyond all over again (yea, it's like that!). I am in awe of his expertise. I am in awe of his sense of me, his knowledge of my body and my mind. I am in awe. 

He has me tied up in so many ways...
 
What is a girl to do? He makes me crazy. He makes me whole. He arouses me like no one has ever done before and perhaps as no one should have a right to do to another human being. He makes me an addict, a junkie, a girl in need of a fix.. on a regular basis. The simple pleasure of toys are no longer so pleasurable until they are also in his hands. Fifty Shades of Grey has nothing on this man. In fact, Mr. Grey is weak and a non-expert in such matters. Mr Grey is put to shame alongside Mr. T.

I make him crazy too. I may drive him out of his mind... but truth is, I am not always sure it is in a good way. Oh, now, there is no doubt that I know how to handle this man. I do know what floats his boat, so to speak, and am gaining the confidence to show him what I like, what I want, what I need without the fear of being shamed or criticized, and I like it. He likes it. But I also think that there are times when I am too much; times when he needs to pull back and regroup. I have lived in the daylight for my entire life. Mr. T lives in darkness. Working midnights does not give a man much time to explore the world; the people who rush through the hours have time to do this before dark. Working midnights allows him to stay in the shadows...

And I am not a shadow girl. I am a dance-in-the-daylight, play-in-the-dark, run-with-the-wind kind of girl at times. He and I - Oil and water? Sand and stone? Night and day. We both need to learn to be ok with those differences. I need to know how to gentle him out to the light, and he needs to not fear the flame that I sometimes project. It's a journey this time, wrought with potholes and detours, and a few do-not-disturb signs.. but I want it. He wants it.. I hope. I think. I know it's gonna be worth it, is worth it, and is a wonderful thing.

What's a girl to do?  

 
As always....

       A. Tan Gledmess... 

Now, Where Was I...

before I was so rudely interrupted? Ah, yes, back in the fire again, and happy to be there, I might add! After a bit of a SNAFU with a friend who was helping me out by promoting my blog, things seem to be returning to a familiar form of normal here. So sad when others cannot help but put blinders on when it comes to viewing real life. What is one to do? I simply choose to be happy. Such a simple thing and yet so difficult for so many.

But, given that the Old Flame is the New Flame, and with any luck, an Everlasting Flame, smiling and being happy is becoming very comfortable. Add to that, some unexpected holiday time, and I am one very happy camper. Given that I have also surrendered the key to my heart and soul (not to mention access to this blog), The Man of the Moment, the Week, the Year (perhaps a Lifetime?), things must be serious.. deliriously so. Wild Thing.. he makes my heart sing.. loud and clear. He does make everything groovy... Now I wonder if all this praise will give him a big head? Oooh.. maybe that is not such a bad thing?? 

As it turns out, he does have the key to my heart and my soul, and the address of this blog. Does this mean no secrets? Not necessarily, but it does mean that there is nothing about me that I want to hide from him. I want him to know my hopes, my dreams. I want to bare my soul (among other things) to his eyes and heart. I want him to know me, to love me, and to trust me to love him.. I want it all, baby.. I want it all...

Holy Geeze.... this is turning into a love story!

Until next time... as always,

A. Tan Gledmess

In an attempt..

...to maintain perspective, I have continued my membership on the dating site. It's an effort to keep some eggs out of the proverbial basket. And it is interesting. Now that I don't care, other men seem to care. An old flame has been in touch.. and back out. Two more have thrown in lines to see if I bite, or will bite.

Inyourarms2nite wanted to know what I have been up to lately and if I would be interested in going out again. Seems to me we had one date, went back to his place, and I never heard from him again.. until now. My response to this was sure.. but we are not sleeping together. And then he cancelled out two weeks in a row. So much for  inMYarms2nite! The last cancellation was because he cut himself shaving. I'm thinking it must have been a cut to the carotid artery. It's a wonder he was able to communicate at all. 

Next in line was am_just_terrific, from Jersey Shore, PA.. not "THE Jersey Shore" he tells me. I swear most folks just think we girls are dumb. He also wonders if I want to know how he ended up living there... duh.. born there? yes! within 10 miles. Toughest quiz I ever passed.. lord save me from the comics. I also learned how the town came to be named.. all this, without really asking. If this is ever a trivia question in a game I am playing, my friends will be amazed and impressed by my useless knowledge.

Finally, this very morning, I heard from hersheydoc58 who says he has a post-doctoral degree yet he cannot figure out how to hide his pictures from the general public on the dating site. He says he has not posted a picture because his account was hacked and he cannot take the risk professionally.. you know, having his photos appear at work. Makes me wonder what kind of work he does and why someone so smart can't come up with better passwords. Hersheydoc is also named Naz, and although he asked for my name, he called me by a nickname. What is that all about? He wants my email or phone number so that he can either mail or text me a photo. Now, if protecting oneself professionally is a concern and should be a concern of mine as well, why does he only communicate with gals who have pictures and why would he want to share personal information - after all, an email has a return address and a text has a return phone number. Are all men this stupid?? Post-doctoral? Really? Being smarter than the average joe - post-doctoral or otherwise - is both a blessing and a curse. Needless to say, he dropped me like a rock when I pointed this out.

But, as we all know, life goes on and the old flame is back in the picture. So what am I doing? I am trying to not leap in with both feet this time, at least not yet. I am trying to distract myself.. trying on clothes that I know won't fit so I can feel better about purchasing the great looking, expensive outfit. I am amusing myself with misfits, thinking it will keep me from diving in headfirst.. but really.. 


As always,
A. tan Gledmess..

Make up Sex..

Well now, this is a first.. make up sex. Who knew?! Truthfully, a lot of you probably did, but I didn't.

You may recall I kept the shoes. And after twenty days (he was counting - not me), he called and suggested we meet. Twenty days. I had given it up for over, and had come up with all kinds of reasons to count my blessings.. after all, the man is crazy. And no one chases me or makes up after a break up - not in my world.

The shoes had taken up residence in the backseat of my car. They were comfortable there. I was getting used to them hanging out, and all was right in my world. Then, the phone rang. I was invited to lunch.. and an exchange.. my few toiletries for his shoes. Shallow Bi-otch that I am, I agreed. A free meal is still a free meal. Besides, I was already back on the dating scene. There was no remorse. No regrets. I had instigated the grand reunion in November and it was over. Fini. Done. Life always goes on.

Two hours at the restaurant, followed by an hour of standing and talking in the parking lot, we were back.. to my house, to dinner, to bed. Oooh-la-la. You know this would be so much easier if the sex was not so good. The man is a god in the bedroom. My body sings, whistles, and hums.. I become a virtual kazoo in his hands. Putty to his touch. Mold me, shape me, take me! It's sad really, and if I were a more mature, complete person I would say "no, please no.. don't... " But, alas I am not. I am a middle aged, sex starved woman. I have been to so many funerals over the past few years, that all I can think about is that if I were to die tomorrow, would I want my epitaph to say "She only wanted to do it once more" or "She went out with a smile"? 

 I'll let you mull that one over while I go back to my mulled wine.. and yes, for the record, we are seeing one another this weekend and he is making plans for us on Valentine's Day. We shall see where it all leads. 

Someone just needs to remind me that all this is one day at a time.

As Always,
 A. Tan Gledmess... 

   

Who's To Blame...?

I've been on a fence for the past few weeks.. to write about the great break up or not (that is the question), but a barrage of texts this morning make me believe the titles Pete and Repeat or What was I Thinking were holding me up. The man who wanted me to give up dating and writing about it has dumped me, but I did not dump on him as a result. I'm not sure I ever blame the other guy. After all, the common denominator is me. Given the barrage of texts I received this morning, he does, however, think I am (he is?) blaming him, and spreading vile information about him as well. 

What is that all about? 

His texts indicate he also believes my moral compass is askew.. you see, I have not yet returned his shoes.

The plain and ugly truth? This is not his fault. Nor do I believe it is mine. It simply is. I certainly do deserve some blame here though. I could have left well enough alone; after all I am the one that opened the can of worms. I did call him and invite him back into my life. That whole closure stuff is way overrated.

 What was I thinking?

 Remind me to never, ever do that again! I know now why we never made a permanent thing of it long ago and far away. We are just too different in our approaches to life and living. I am living out loud and he lives quietly, surreptitiously undercover. Certainly not a match made in heaven.. though it could be one in hell.  I can, however, safely and confidently say it was fun.. again.. while it lasted.

And yes, I am dating again. Heck, why not? I still enjoy meeting new people and trying new things.. though I am currently unsure about how many more new things there are out there. Well meaning friends tell me that Mr Right-For-Me is out there,.. well maybe he is and maybe he is not. I am not looking for that. Marriage is a nice idea. Not sure it is the option I should be choosing anytime soon or late(r). I make a pretty good single woman when all is said and done. I don't come with instructions and that gets pretty confusing for the men I meet. 

So, for now.. let it be known it is not his fault and that I shall not look back again. It was fun. It was wild. And life goes on... speaking of which, I had a dinner date last night.. it was a bit like deja vu... and as it turns out, for good reason! He and I also dated before.. only once to my recollection. I was so impressive too - he has absolutely no memory of it whatsoever (at least as near as I can tell).  Maybe this should be called Pete and Repeat. I need to keep better lists.

As always,

~A. Tan Gledmess 

ps... I do plan to mail back the shoes, if only to keep my moral compass straight...

 

Fanning the Flames...

The definition of insanity that I like best includes doing things the same old way and expecting new results. I can certainly attest to the fact that, in my life, doing things the same way has mostly resulted in the same endings.. though,the details in between beginnings and endings have been interesting and varied, the end result was me. Alone. Unsatisfied. Incomplete. 

I am trying something new. I made the call. I stuck my neck out. I am taking a chance and putting myself out there. He could have ignored me. He could have let it all go... but...

he called me back and, after the call, found me on Facebook. I gave him carte blanch to my Facebook wall.. and there he has access to this blog as well as another one I have been writing, Beginning at the End. This is certainly new territory for me. And, I have an idea as to how he may react to it all... It could be I am completely blowing a great possibility by revealing too much about me. But, you know, secrets are hard to keep and usually get found out. Perhaps it is better to put it all out there, up front. Take the plunge.. and give him the chance to take it too, if he likes. Dive once more into that deep end of the very warm pool..

The flame.. never quite went out. It was put on hold. For a lot of years. By me.  At the time, I wanted

 an opportunity to meet someone who would love me so much they would put everything on the line. I wanted to see if there was, by chance, someone out there who would want to marry me. 

Six years later, I haven't met that guy - or, to rephrase that - I haven't found a guy I want to marry. I already had what I wanted, I just didn't know it at the time. You never know what you've lost until it's gone? Maybe.

Today, I am happy to end the grand 50 First Dates experiment. I want to do 50 gasps, as he touches my skin, holds my hand in his. I want the 50 Oh. My. God.s as he takes me to those places that only he has been able to take me. I want 50 of those kisses.. all over. I want 50 whispered conversations deep in the night. I want 50 times that 50 and more. I want to be held, I want to hold. I want to trust. I want to take a chance again - with my heart and soul, and trust his heart, his soul, and
                                                      other delicious parts of his delightful body... 

And, do you know what is really awesome? He wants it too ...

Sincerely, and gratefully yours,

A. Tan Gledmess....  

 ~every reader, every supporter has been a very important part of this experiment. I thank you for your commentsm and participation, your eyes and minds. I may be insane, but I am not there alone  :)

Three Men and a Garage, Plus One

What a week it has been! I am officially off the dating sites, but apparently that makes no difference. And I am calling that a good thing. My mom passed away a bit more than a week ago, so date time has been on hold. Having been sick for some time now, it was evident a month ago that things were not going to get better. And it is sad. My mother has been my best friend, my cheerleader, and my supporter for my entire life. I am certainly missing her already and will continue to miss her as my life continues. In the midst of all this, however, some interesting things have transpired. I have heard from an old (hot) flame, been invited to dinner by the Get-Away Man, and  met 3 men in a garage.. and invited in to have a beer or two as well. This is what happens when you decide to do a favor for your kids!


My son and his girlfriend have lived in a rather nice apartment complex for the past year. I've been there for dinner, and this week I agreed to visit the cat and feed the turtle while they are out of town. I also agreed to get the mail...which is how this adventure began. I couldn't find the mailbox! 

I entered the building from the back, up the stairs. Let myself in, looked for the cat and couldn't find her. This is not unusual. Once Gracie stayed with me for a week. I didn't see her until the day before the kids came home. Gracie is either shy or has figured out that I am not a cat person. I figured she was in there somewhere.. after all, the litter box needed cleaning. I didn't think about the turtle.. but decided I would venture back outside to get the mail and check on the animals again when I returned. 

Now, one would think - at least I was thinking - that mailboxes for apartments would be along the street.. after all, my mailbox is on the street. The mail person drives by, loads it up, and moves on. I walk around the building, but I am certainly not seeing a mailbox. What I did see, though, was an open garage door and man walking into it. So, like any normal person would do - and yes, for the moment we are going to consider me a normal person, I ventured over and asked him if he could give me a clue as to where I might find the boxes. Turns out he lives in the same building as my son and his girlfriend. And, he knew where the mailboxes were. He also asked me if I would like join him and his friend for a drink - bottled water, peanuts, a beer? I took the beer. It's been a rough week. I deserved it, and the door was open. I felt a bit adventurous but also safe. 

I said, sure, why not?

Mr. C opened the frig to reveal a wide array of alcoholic beverages. I chose a Stella, and we sat down at this high top table, tv running in the background, and beautiful view out the door. We shared a couple of beers, some lies, and some laughs. Life is amazing if you just let yourself open up to it.

Mr C and his buddy H were new to town,military transfers - and having been here only a year, they were interested in the area. I became the expert - me.. the directionally dysfunctional one.. an expert - try to imagine that! Before long, Mr Long, Tall, and Beautiful-in-Chaps stopped in as well. Imagine this... me and three men in a garage bar! A man cave. I walked away with a phone number and a promise to be there when they next opened for business. According to Mr. C, his establishment is opened rarely and generally on a Friday. 

I don't know.. serendipity? Luck of the draw? It made my day. It made my week. I may never see those guys again, but I do know where the garage is and I think I just might have to stop in again - for fun.

Until next time....

A. Tan Glendmess

ps: the old flame? we're talking .. and texting... with a T... and yes.. I am going to dinner with the Get-Away Man. Why not?

Ramblings..

Time marches on, doesn't it? One day bleeds into the next and if we're not careful we forget to pay attention to all those little things that make us who we are. It's been a month since my last post, and it's not that I have been lax inasmuch as I have been busy paying attention to the minutia of my days. 

What have I done, and where have I been? Well, there was the young guy - 10 years my junior and I have to say he was fun.. for a bit. One more of the walking wounded and as it turned out, he was in need of a caretaker. I'm pretty sure I'm not it. When asked by his other friends to make sure he made it home safe, I knew time was running out. My nurturing gene is sadly lacking. I can rustle it out of retirement for young children and old folks, but not middle aged men. Driving drunks home and tucking them into bed (and out of my capris) is not my idea of a good time. Yep - you read that right. One night he got up after we were in bed and put on my pants.. not long after, I decided to go home to my own bed and couldn't find them. Prying them off his passed-out body is never going to be my idea of a good time. I suppose I should take solace in the fact that he was not in my underwear!! And no, I have not seen him since then. Some things are just too telling.

Another thing I have done is dropped off the online dating sites. When the same men are still there for years and years and the lines are all the same, it is time for a break. The faces change, the needs don't. I swear, a lot of men see online dating as a call-girl service for the price of dinner. And when did phone sex get so popular?? Has it always been? Cell phones are a wonderful thing - you can make long distance calls that are not 900 numbers and call it a 'get to know you' call while getting off... of course this can work both ways and I am not adverse to such carrying-ons now and again.. but really? How long can one do this without feeling empty? There is something to be said about a shared wet spot. Really.

Giving up all hope for sanity, I agreed to a set-up by a friend. Now, I have to say I have lost some faith in friends for this in the past.. after all, if you really know me, you have to know there are some men that will always get a FAIL when set up with me.. I am who I am and the right man is not going to change that---ever. At any rate, The Analyst is from Colorado and has a mad-professor sort of look to him, and no - not the Gilligan's island guy. More like Robyn Williams with white hair in disarray and a beard. Looking at him from afar, I am amused and curious.. but would I have picked him out of a room and said "That's the one!"? Probably not. That said, he is interesting.. very interesting and not at all what his cover suggests. I do like a man who is a bit of an enigma, so this is working out quite well for now. We have dinner, conversations, see bad movies together, and somehow keep our sense of humor and fun intact. Maybe I am just better with men from out of state...

I have come to the conclusion that I am not and have never been a good wife. I am a good mother, and excellent lover (if I do say so myself - and I just did!), but a wife? Not so much. And, you know, that seems to be ok for everyone except for the men who want to make me into one - a woman acting in a specified capacity. I have never really defined myself in any specific terms and have always defied anyone else that attempts to do so; it is no wonder I fail at that. I am not a role player except in the bedroom (ok, maybe the kitchen and living room - but only when sex is on the table) and then only when we both agree to such fun. And you know, I'm ok with all that too.

Until next time, and as always...

A. Tan Gledmess...

running amok...

Dating site memberships are coming to the end of their contracts and the time to determine what I am doing is on the table.. it does get discouraging. As easy as it is to make light of it all and fun of many of them, the truth is I am beginning to wonder what the point of it all might be .. after all, toys are mildly satisfying and sometime more satisfying than the men I am meeting. UGh.. when did sex become such drudgery and so vanilla? A little flavoring is always nice - some fudge, caramel, cherries and nuts spice up a Sundae, why not allow a little crazy in the door? I blame novels for this - the pitfalls of enjoying novels filled with erotic smut, I suppose. This summer I get to blame Shades of Gray - the trilogy. Hot steamy sex.. I like that. need it. want it. Even the men I am meeting are not into it these days. What happened to the joy of lovemaking anyway? I absolutely refuse to believe I am too old for this!

After informing Mr In and Out that hickies are off the table, there has been absolute silence - though I can see he is still looking at me online. God bless dating sites that let you know who the voyeurs are .. and one would think if a man looks at you numerous times, saying hello would simply be the polite thing to do. On the other hand, we have Mr Meet and Great who acts like the starving puppy - afraid that he must charge right in - cave man style (or is that bulldozer?) and shove into me over and over again - never saying  a word and then wondering why A) I am not responding and B) he is not getting off.. or is that old age?? He can't let it fly like he once did but also lacks the stamina for the long haul. Sad to say, all I can think about lately is that there is all that mess for nada,, such a shame. If there was something in me - willing and able to be the counselor, the sex therapist, I could maybe deal with it all, but alas, I simply want to be ravaged and enthralled. Too much to hope for I suppose.., though there have been a few that really rocked my world. And I have discovered that men who play with guns seem to have a bit more verve! They have spoiled me, to be sure. I want that.. too much to ask?

can we say NO! NO!

So, how do I order a man? This strikes me as a little more than simply a mail order bride.. I want great, eye popping, fireworks yielding, wet, gushing sex along with hand holding, cuddles on the couch and comfortable silences.. seems like an easy request, doesn't it? And I wish I could advertise it.. but alas, simple minded creatures that most men appear to be, they see only the sex and think whore with no payments.. ok, maybe a dinner and some flowers. And can we schedule a night- date night (Wednesdays) and weekends, and usually my place - saves them from cooking and cleaning I suppose. I might even feel better about this if they paid the bills. Was I always meant to be the kept mistress? Is this what I was in a previous life? Perhaps this is simply the rambling of a woman awake way past her usual bedtime. After all, if I am going to be up after 2am, I should be having more fun!

 out side the box

So, the beat either goes on or it ends.. and I drift gracefully into celibacy.. wish I was better at that to be sure..

any words of advice there, faithful readers? I seem to have hit a slump....

As always,
A. Tan Gledmess

Livid...

..As livid as the mark on my neck and the one on my breast! OMG, how old are we!?!? I had a feeling it was happening but didn't stop him - guess I am culpable too, but Jeeze! This body is a temple, we don't hurt it! 

So, date with TNG last night.. who shall forever more be named the In and Out Guy, because that is about all he does (can do?). You know, you like to give a guy some time, let him relax a little and see what he's worth. First night sex is not always so great - booze is generally involved, nerves are taut, everyone is self conscious. Well, maybe not me so much... what would be the point after all these years? There is truly something to be said for getting older.. what used to offend only amuses these days. Go figure. Anyway.. back to the story....

I headed over to his place. It is always good to see how the other half lives; and this guy - like the last one- lives in model home style - in suburbia. What is that all about anyway? To top it off, there is a lock box (the kind they place on homes that are for sale) on the back door. This certainly gives me pause as he has told me he has lived there for 2.5 years. Who leaves that stuff on a door?? Makes me wonder if he is simply occupying the place while the real owner has it up for sale (with no sign). He does have boxes of stuff in the basement though - unopened still.. guess we are not really moving in - at least that is the message I get. 

Do men think that living in a sterile environment makes them look good? Is it a sign of low intelligence? Is it a sign of control? Are they housebroken??Is that it? I don't know anymore, but this is 2 for 2 on the weird stuff scale. I need someone who lives in their house - and is surrounded by things that are meaningful. I don't know, it just makes them seem more human. On the other hand, they also look entrenched so maybe his game is to appear to be moveable.

Ok, back to the main story on Mr In And Out... and this is for that reader who wanted more details (LOL)... there is no romance here, he tells me. This is about lust  - his I am thinking - and once we are naked, he rolls on top of me, smashes my face in what is supposed to be a kiss, and shoves it in.. ok, truth is, I do like it in me, so I go with that for the moment. Some grunting and shoving later - along with his mouth on my neck, I realize that this is not going to end well. He flips me over - more shoving and grunting - and I am thinking  'ok, this is not exactly doing much for me', but hey - last time was good and I can be fair - maybe this is about him tonight. We flip again and now I am getting somewhere and no longer concerned about him .. except he is back to the neck and pinching a tit... a bit later, I am on top - getting what I am here for, and he is playing boy toy - use me baby, use me! Done - at least I am, and I am sorry (maybe?) that he did not get what he wanted...  but

Is this my job? am I responsible for that? Seems to me that a man who makes me responsible for my own orgasm cannot possibly expect me to be concerned about his!

  I fall asleep, he does some twitching (restless leg syndrome?), and I wake in the morning to find I am alone in the bed. To the bathroom and WHOA! A hickey on my neck???!! W?RUFK!? How old are we!? Livid is what I am. Livid. Are manners no longer important and have we learned nothing in 62 years of life?? You do not give women hickeys. Ever. This body is a temple - we do not cause it harm... We do not mark it up! I am not a territory!

Do I tell him? yes. His reaction? sadness - he's sorry. My response? this is not about sorry - this is about it never ever happening again, which of course, it won't.. because I'm done... Done! I say - although this was only in my head.. I do know that a certain amount of caffiene is necessary before I say too much out loud. Speaking of which, I have to make the coffee because, although he drinks it, he has not bothered to figure out how the coffee pot works; and then he complains about an after taste.. and did (I) make it right? Did I say DONE? Let me say it again.. D.O.N.E. done!

The question now is do I continue with this dating thing? we all know he is done, fini, over...  but I am pretty close (if not in excess of 50) and the numbers game is not working. There have been a few men I could have (did?) fallen for, but they seem to be among the walking wounded and I am not a very good nurse.

Decisions, decisions...

As always,

A. Tan Gledmess