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18 Apr

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Check mate

17 Apr

I am a horrible person.

A horrible person who took the easy way out and ended up crushing a soul and stealing a spine.

A horrible person because it was easier for me to avoid the conversation than to have it and instead I ended up being more hurtful to the other person. Which of course makes me feel shitty and makes me think I should have been more forthcoming about where I was and where we were never going to go.  Oh, Chess Player.  I’m an asshole.  A hurtful dick hole.

He knew I was dating other people, but I think he thought we were further along than we actually were. He knew I was going away last weekend, but I didn’t tell him it was with Monsieur le Baguette.  Maybe if it was a different time, if there was no MlB, I don’t know.

Last week after I’d gotten home and MlB and I had “the talk” the Chess Player texted me to see how my weekend had been.  I didn’t respond.  I told myself I’d get to it at some point, and instead I let it go.  A week went by and last night – after a week of silence from me – he sent another message, “Hey, hope you’re well.  It seems like I completely misread the situation between the 2 of us.” I could have chosen to ignore it, to let it go, and leave him wondering.  Then I thought I’d hate if someone did that to me.  I’d swallow the discomfort and tell him what was up.

So I messaged him.  I told him I’d met someone the week before I’d met him, and he was who I had been with last weekend, and we’d decided to give things a go as boyfriend and girlfriend.

And he was blindsided.

And I am an asshole.

He feels confused and led on, and I did that to him.  It is hurtful when someone does it to you and here I’ve done it to someone else.  I should have told him sooner.  I should have just not texted him or gone out with him again.  But I didn’t do those things.  Instead we texted frequently, I said yes to a date with him, I ended up naked in his bed again, and I made him think we had some kind of future together when that wasn’t the case.

I am a horrible person.

When work gets in the way

16 Apr

Dating someone with children who lives out of town requires all sorts of logistical planning.  When Monsieur le Baguette and I talk on the phone, which is at least a zillion times a day, we often have to start calendaring dates.  Sometimes I wonder if I can use my assistant to help us plan when we’re going to see each other.  Couldn’t that fall into “other duties as assigned” in her job description?

  • Me: You free on this date?
  • MlB: Yes.  I am.
  • Me: Oh, wait, I have brunch that day.
  • MlB: How about the next weekend?  No, I have the kids.
  • Me: I can meet you the day before you pick up the kids.
  • MlB: Great, that works!
  • Me: I just have to be to work at a reasonable hour.

Then we laugh and laugh because we know that’s not going to happen because we’ll be staying up too late doing the things that adults do.  Our dates last a few days, not just a few hours, since it’s somewhat easier to plan and we don’t want to be stuck in the car or on a train for too long.

Date 4 is coming up this weekend: 5 nights and I can’t freaking wait!  The plan was that he’d be at my house by noon so we could enjoy one another’s company (read: afternoon delight or nooner if you prefer), then I’d head back to the office for a few hours before sneaking out early so we could bone again.  Well wouldn’t you fucking know it, this afternoon I received an appointment for a fucking meeting that I can’t decline so now my lunch time plans are ruined!

Cock blocked by work.

Why can’t I be independently wealthy so I can get laid whenever I want?  God, life is so god damned hard.

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Lucky number 3

5 Apr

Ladies and germs, I’m pleased to share with you that today Monsieur le Baguette and I are heading out for a 3rd date.  This time we’re spending the entire weekend together.  Three whole nights!!  We’re off for a fun filled weekend in Washington, DC where we’ll wander the city, make out at various monuments celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary (again), order room service, drink champagne, wreck the bed in the hotel, and not sleep.  #romance

It’s been 2 weeks since we last saw each other and we’ve spent countless hours on the phone.  Marathon phone calls lasting up to 6.5 hours (no joke).  What do we talk about?  Everything.  Nothing.  If we’re crazy because of this spark.  If the spark is real.  How will we know?  Should we slow things down?  How would we?  Should we just lean in and go for it?  When will I meet his kids?  When will he meet my family?  A few nights we haven’t said goodnight until after 4:00 am.  If the late nights are any indication of how the weekend will go, pretty sure that we’re not going to be getting much sleep.

Seems to me like things are going pretty well so far.  We’ve started referring to each other as “future” boyfriend/girlfriend.  Why future?  Because he hasn’t finished up with his rebounds.  And because I’ve got at least 1 more romp with #4 planned – next week.  The other night when we were on the phone I said something about how he needs to finish them and he said, “I’m not going to.”He went into it thinking, “maybe there’s someone better out there.”  Instead he’s going out and thinking to himself, “I’d rather be with Catherinette.”  I’m a rare gemstone!!

We’ve already started talking about our next date which will likely be in May.  That time we’ll be hopping on a plane and jetting off for a romantic weekend in wine country.

I’ll keep you posted along the way.  Wish me luck!

Running the bases

30 Mar

Yesterday was a beautiful day for a baseball game.  The sun was shining.  The weather was just right.  The crowds were festive, and the O’s won in the 11th inning.  First game of the season is in the books. As is, probably, my last hook up with the Chess Player.

We spent the entire day together.  Met him at his apartment just after lunch, we walked to the stadium and spent the day drinking.  He didn’t want me to pay for anything because he’s a southern gentlemen, and that’s now how he rolls.  He’s charming and smart, I’ll give him that.  But when he grabbed my hand while we were sitting down, or he was gazing into my eyes, all I could think of was, “I’m so not where you are right now.” He beamed when we were buying beers and the dude behind the bar said we looked like a “nice young couple.”  Cute since there’s an 11 year age difference.  The Chess Player is too into it.  He talked about the future – how we would take me to football games in the fall, “if you decide to stay around,” he told me.  Uh…um…so not there with him.  Not even a tiny bit.

How does one person read signals which aren’t quite there?  What did he see to interpret there’s a future?

We didn’t watch much of the game because we were too busy making out in the stands.  I’m sure it was annoying to the people sitting next to us.  Had I been sitting next to a couple (not a couple, 2 people sitting together) who were making out I would have been rolling my eyes and whispering, “get a room” under my breath.

Oh.

Maybe he read my making out with him in public and letting him hold my hand as signs I’m more present than I actually am?  Yikes. My bad.  I didn’t mean for that too happen.

[Oh hey, is that you, sibling?  Because you can go now.  Tap out.  Is that your phone ringing?  ** BRRRRING BRRRRING**  I think it is.  You should probably get that call. ** BRRRRING BRRRRING**  It’s probably really important.  By the way, did you need me to bring something to dinner on Sunday? I may have said I was going to bring some veggies, but can’t remember.  Text me if you want me to bring something.  And also, I expect an Easter basket. ** BRRRRING BRRRRING** Go answer the phone.  Or at least look away.]

Perhaps he also interpreted my ending up naked in his bed at the end of the night as some kind of sign.  There was no boot knocking, no home run.  Thought about it, but decided it would send all kinds of mixed signals.  We did slide into 3rd base.  In text exchanges with #4, he’d said my talents were wasted on the Chess Player.  He, surprisingly, was more skilled than I assumed he would be.  That was pleasantly surprising.  It was fun.

And it wasn’t.

Not sure how to describe it.  There was something missing.  I did not feel present.  It wasn’t mechanical, and I don’t mind meaningless, but it was hollow if that makes sense.  My mind was elsewhere, with someone else.  Engaging with the Chess Player was difficult, the connection was off for me.  I’m not typically one who tends to be quiet in the bedroom, but I couldn’t get into the talking.  He was saying the right things, but I wasn’t there, so my silence made me feel more disengaged.  My focus seemed to be on finishing so we could wrap things up and I could go home.  Even in the throes of – well, you know – I kept thinking this whole thing would have been way more fun with Monsieur le Baguette.

I’d rather be with him.

Interestingly enough, had the hook up been with #4 instead, there wouldn’t have been an issue with him.  Perhaps it’s because we already have some sort of established connection and there are no illusions of what is/not between us.  We’ll find out when he comes back around in the next few weeks.

The Chess Player leaves today to visit his family, he’ll be gone for the weekend.  Hopefully, the distance will serve to cool things off.