Ghost

The new guy is gone.

For those of you who were happy to see me with someone, who sent kind messages of support, thank you.

It’s been a nice two months.

But it has come to an end.

I wish I could give an explanation as to why.

Maybe we were not suitable for each other.

Perhaps someone else entered the picture.

I could hazard a guess but the bottom line is the same.

The new guy is gone.

The last I heard from him, he was struggling with the fallout from the Garlic Festival.

He is a Gilroy native, a former festival organizer, and an attendee, so I can understand his suffering.

And given that his near miss was also my near miss, I can relate to some of the survivor guilt I know he is feeling.

The good news, if there’s any to be gleaned from this, is that this has nothing to do with me.

For once in my life, I can look at a situation and recognize that it’s all about him or the shooting, or another woman, or something else.

But it’s not about me.

I’m not gonna lie.

Being ghosted hurts.

I am trying to remind myself, especially during these last few weeks when I’ve been struggling to keep my head above water with all the waves of loss rolling over me, that ghosting says more about the ghoster than the ghostee.

And if he’s comfortable with a legacy of indifference then so am I.

Update on The Swede

The Swede and his girlfriend are doing well, if Facebook has any say in the matter.

The other day, he posted a picture of the two of them, all dressed up in wedding attire, with her planting a huge kiss on his cheek.

Apart from loving his suit (complete with lavender shirt and matching silk tie) I was flustered by the photo.

I’m not gonna lie.

There were a few skewers of wistfulness and pangs of jealousy that went through my heart.

It seems that even though my head knows that The Swede is off the market, my heart needs a moment to take it all in.

It’s never a bad thing to be wistful over someone who was a good, decent human being to you.

For so long I convinced myself I wasn’t completely alone because there was somebody in Sweden who liked me.

It doesn’t even matter that I didn’t know him very well or that I only saw him a half dozen times over a three-year period.

He REPRESENTED something to me.

Hope.

Patience.

Friendship.

In the end, the friendship is what I’ll take away from this.

I expect the skewers of wistfulness and pangs of jealousy will decrease with time and OF COURSE the more I get to know the new guy, the more I wonder. . .

. . .The Swede, who?

30 years of f*cking

It’s officially been 30 years since I became sexually active.

I know this because I remember the date I lost my virginity.

It was July 8, 1989.

I was fifteen years old.

The only reason I didn’t lose it sooner is that the guy I picked to give my virginity to wound up backing out at the last minute.

I guess he was a big virgin too.

I’m not crazy about remembering dates to things like this.

It’s just that 7-8-89 is an easy date to remember.

It seems that now would be as good a time as any to review my sex life and make some changes, if needed.

Clearly, I have no sex life to speak of and so I’d like to change that.

However, I think I’ve made some good decisions lately about who to share that slice of myself with and who to abstain from sharing it with.

So I give myself points for that.

And, of course, no analysis of my sex life would be complete without acknowledging that there have been some MAJOR changes in my sex life, namely because I’m dating the new guy, but also because I’ve had a health scare or two.

Sure, there’s no one to speak of right now who I’m sharing intimacies with, but that’s likely going to change and I give myself bonus points for actually taking the time to get to know somebody as well as for creating a little empty space for someone new to enter the picture.

It was getting CROWDED.

Kidding!

Garlic Festival

I’m going to the Garlic Festival with the new guy on Sunday.*

He used to volunteer to help organize it.

And given that I’m a lifelong advocate for volunteering, you can just go ahead and assume I’m impressed with that.

The trick of course, is figuring out what to wear.

  1. It’s gonna be hot, Hot, HOT!
  2. I want to look pretty for the new guy
  3. Did I mention it’s going to be HOT?

If you’re worried about me eating garlic all day then trying to snog the new guy, no worries.

I am sure that he will be consuming as much garlic as me, if not more.

Reminds me of the time my little sister ate two whole heads of roasted garlic at my house for Halloween one year, only to have the garlic smell come out her pores later.

That’s how powerful garlic is.

I’m also reminded of when I went to the Great Bull Run at the Alameda County Fairgrounds a few years ago to run “with” the bulls in the hot HOT HEAT.

Sweat dripped off my body and when it came time to fool around with my date, he made me take a shower at his house because I was “salty.”

I don’t want a repeat of that.

So I’m going to wear one of my sundresses with my new espadrilles.

And a WHOLE LOT OF SUNBLOCK!

 

*UPDATE:  The new guy and I were at the festival on Sunday but left before the shooting.  To read my blog post about the festival, please go to this link.

Erotic Plans

Given my previous posts on the topic, some of you are wondering whether the new guy and I have gotten physical.

The answer is yes and he kisses like a dream.

I have yet to kiss that man and feel like I’ve had my fill.

I always walk away wanting more.

But no, we haven’t actually ‘done the deed.’

Does this bother me?

No and yes.

First of all, I think it’s great that I’ve slowed my roll long enough to stop, take a breath, and appreciate the person I’m in the process of getting to know.

The new guy is really awesome.

So capable, smart, and funny.

With interesting hobbies – like Star Trek, tinkering with cars, camping, and Comic-Con.

You can be sure there are two things in my future:  a Star Trek costume and wandering around Comic-Con in a Princess Leia costume.

Secondly, there’s something to be said for getting to know someone first before jumping in bed with them.

I know, I know.

I can’t believe I’m saying it too, but I have to admit, I REALLY like this guy.

So much so, that I feel totally and 100% comfortable waiting patiently until the right moment arrives.

HOWEVER, I am ever so slightly turned on – all the time.

My porn consumption has increased (yes, it has).

And I fantasize about having a moment alone with him, just the two of us, with no interruptions, no kids, no distractions, just him and me.

We will be going to the Gilroy Garlic Festival in the coming weekend.

And I was all excited because (you know) SLEEPOVER!

However, now it looks like there will be family staying over at the new guy’s place which throws a wrench in my erotic plans.

Nevertheless, I get to hang with him and his friends for the festival and that’s more than enough to make me happy.

Erotic plans or no.

Home run

It’s not like me to move slow and take it easy.

Although I am a relatively mellow woman, I find that when it comes to physical relationships I have two speeds:  grass growing and rocket blasting.

Yeah, when I make up my mind that I want some action from someone, it’s hard to stop me.

I do wish there was something besides ludicrous speed, maybe a gentle stroll or a brisk walk, to land me in bed with someone I really like.

To tell the truth, the new guy has slowed me down A LOT.

Everything we’ve done would be appropriate for a PG rated movie.

The few times I’ve tried to broach the topic with him, he changed the subject.

So I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to bring up physical intimacy.

And it presented itself:

So there you have it, I’m not going to jump his bones but I’m not going to inch along, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I’m going to make my own perfect moment and take the new guy there with me.

As my friend Tom put it, “This is not some fuck boi with a coke can dick.”

Take my time.

Enjoy myself.

Don’t rush.

Be attentive.

And fucking pitch one perfect ball right over the plate so he can knock it right out of the park and have a roaring slide into home base.

That’ll do.

MOOP

One of the things the new guy and I did was go for a hike at Wilder Ranch.

The new guy brought a backpack with snacks, a blanket, and beverages.

He even brought a jacket – in case I got cold.

Needless to say, I was impressed.

But what truly BLEW ME AWAY was watching him pick up MOOP (Matter Out Of Place aka rubbish) on our hike and put it in his backpack to throw away in a garbage can later on.

A man who cleans up other peoples’ MOOP?

He’s a man after my own heart.

After our hike we went to the shops on Swift Street in Santa Cruz.

He wanted to take me to get a charcuterie board at the brewery there.

Then we wandered the shops, looking for cool items to buy.

I think I can say for sure that what I like most about the new guy is his willingness to try new things.

Things which may have taken me much longer to get accustomed to (like ropes, emotional honesty courses, and social nudity).

He’s just a “live and let live” kinda guy, which makes me so happy.

Maybe I found a keeper?

We’ll see.

Inquiring minds want to know. . .

It’s been hard work blogging lately.

Inspiration is hard to come by.

There’s only so much I can write about dates, men, and my activities.

Clearly, I need to get out and do more because this just isn’t cutting it.

I even have a tickler file I keep to help me find inspiration when inspiration is lacking and that’s doing nothing for me.

Personally, I think it’s lack of sex that’s zapping my creativity.

When I’m turned on, I write better.

When I’m drunk, I write better (I edit sober, however).

When I’m stoned, I write better.

Does that mean I should crossfade while having sex?

Well, I’d like to think so, but sadly that is not the case.

I’ve sworn to not jump into bed with any man and so even the new guy has to wait.

And it’s killing me.

I like to sample the goods, you know.

And yes, of course I need to know what kind of person he is:

  • Whether or not he gives up his seat to the elderly on a crowded bus.
  • If he will help out a friend with a flat tire on the side of the road.
  • Whether he’s generous and volunteers his time and talent for worthy causes.

So there’s a lot of IMPORTANT SHIT to get to know about the new guy.

But also, I’m curious about his lovemaking skills.

Is that so wrong?

Well color me guilty if it is.

Inquiring minds want to know. . .

Date #2

I’ve shut off my profile in Tinder.

It’s not what you think.

I’m not giving up.

I’m just creating a little space for me and the new guy to get to know each other without the distraction of other men texting me.

In case you’re wondering, I did get a lot of hookup requests.

One from a guy who wanted, “KFC and cowgirl AT THE SAME TIME.”

I kid you not.

Could I make that up?

Funny enough, I read that wrong and thought he was looking for KFC and A COWGIRL and so I messaged him telling him I had a cowboy hat and like KFC only to realize I made a HUGE mistake.

LOL.

I save my random hookups for Burning Man.

SERIOUSLY.

It’s the one place I let myself enjoy the physicality of other people just for the hell of it.

Case in point:  a sexy bodybuilder who liked my ass and wanted to see more of it on the playa.

I indulged in a private showing.

Sadly, his cocaine habit interfered with his performance, but I still remember him fondly.

I’m sure he has NO PROBLEM finding dates on Tinder.

So here I sit, having shut off my Tinder profile, wondering what comes next.

Date two, I suppose.

We’ve already discussed going camping in the new guy’s brand new trailer.

And bringing him to a village meeting to see (of all people) Rachel Lark perform her brand of bawdy storytelling.

But all that is weeks in the future.

What we need is something we can do now.

Like catch a movie.

Go on a hike.

Grab another meal together.

Anything, so long as I get to see him again.