Archive | March, 2018

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.

 

Ring ring

28 Mar

He called me this afternoon. Crisis averted. He told me he missed me and asked if it was time for our date yet. He said it seemed so far away.

Let’s all swoon together now…

Are you swooning? I am.

Meanwhile, my excellent texting skills worked up #4 so much he’s said he’s going to show up at my house tonight. Sorry, Charlie. I’ll be out. Knock all you want, you can’t come in. At least not tonight.

Reading the subTEXT

28 Mar

I will not text Monsieur le Baguette until he texts me.

I will not text Monsieur le Baguette until he texts me.

Say it with me: no texting Monsieur le Baguette until he texts first.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last twoish months since I started dating again it’s that I need to slow my roll with my text messages. Where initially I was happy to fire off the first text, I’ve stopped doing that.  Thank you, Matt Hussey, for teaching me men like to chase.  Chase away.  A month ago I was freaking out because #4 hadn’t texted me in 2 days.  Recently, I outlasted him for 5 days – I knew he’d eventually pop up again.  I can fucking wait the dude out.  I don’t have to be the first one to send the text message – they are more than able to send a text, and if I don’t it sends the message that they are not the only thing going on in my life.  I am interesting and complex and smart and worth chasing.  Chase me!!

It’s been about 12 hours since MlB sent me a text.  He was “out of town visiting a friend” (code for working on his rebounds) yesterday.  He had mentioned it on Monday night, texted me yesterday morning, and called me around lunch time to chat for a little while.  Last night I sent him a good night text, when he got home (or at least I assume he was home by then) he wrote, “I missed you.  Sweet dreams. :)”  That was just before 1:00 AM.  Haven’t heard from him yet today.  YET is the operative word here.  He is going to text/call me.  I’m 100% positive.  He likes me.  He told me.

How to fill the space while I wait? I’m going to sit here and check my phone every 5 minutes to make sure I haven’t missed his message.  I can wait for him, it’s just not going to be patiently. I’m going to pretend to work.  I’m going to respond to emails.  Then I’m going to check my phone again.

What’s somewhat annoying is that I am getting messages.  They just happen to be from the Chess Player and #4 instead.

Chess Player and I spent most of yesterday and last night text messaging, though I’m trying to slow that one down. We’re going to have to work on some boundary setting.  Am afraid he’s jumping in too fast and thinks we’ll end up somewhere that we will likely not end up. We’re still on for tomorrow, though now I’m thinking I should probably not end up in his bedroom with him.  Partly because I’m not sure I can go through with it, and partly because I think he’ll look for more meaning in what we’re doing than what is actually there.

After 5 days of no messages, #4 sent me a message letting me know he was doing Spring Break with his kids.  Serious adult conversation ensued.  Or at least it did until we turned a corner and it turned to sexting.  That’s been going on since yesterday, and it’s been fun.  He’s on a new workout kick – will write about that later – and I’m now guaranteed to get updates every Wednesday morning.  He likes to hear about my “dates” with all of the details.  ALL of the details.  #4 thinks I shouldn’t bother with the Chess Player.  “Don’t waste time with the [Chess Player]. Your skills are wasted on him.”  Yeah, he’s probably right about the skill match.  Guy is probably ruined for bjs after me.  Sorry, not sorry.  Then #4 changes the subject and texts me all the dirty things he wants to do.  I’m guessing I’ll be seeing him in the next few weeks – now that skill match works just fine.

Kind of funny how a few weeks ago it was #4 who I needed the distraction from, and now he’s the distraction from someone else.  C’est la vie.

MlB, where’s my text message??

I’m just going to check my phone real quick…

Game day

27 Mar

Well, well, well, guess who upped his game a bit today?  None other than the Chess Player.  Guess who happened to have an extra ticket to Opening Day on Thursday?  Also, none other than the Chess Player.  AND, guess who will be escorting yours truly to said Opening Day?  You guessed it!  The Chess Player.

Earlier this week we had made plans to go out for drinks on Thursday.  Figured we’d go out for a few drinks and then he’d show me around his fancy apartment building before our clothing ended up discarded on his bedroom floor.  Again.  When he landed the tickets he figured the game would make a suitable alternative.  Um, yes.  Yes, I agree.  Looks like we have ourselves an actual date on Thursday.  And you know how much I love going out on a Thursday.  Considering Thursday nights seem to be the ones where I entertain my gentlemen callers.

It’s looking like the Chess Player might hit a home run after all.

Protected: Point of no return

27 Mar

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Thrown off his game

26 Mar

It appears the Chess Player is in fact smitten.  Bear witness to our text exchange from last week:

  • CP: Genetics was very kind to you in many ways apparently.
  • Me: Giant breasts and the ability to talk about multiple things at once.  Thank you, genes.
  • CP: Lol I wasn’t only referring to that!
  • Me: And dimples.
  • CP: And you’re smart
  • CP: And you’re nice
  • CP: And you’re funny
  • CP: And hot
  • Me: All true.
  • CP: Do I have to keep going?

Not included in the above is when he invited me over.  For a slumber party. I said I don’t do slumber parties and he said he wanted me to stay, he’d even sleep on the couch so I could sleep.  Then in the morning he’d make me breakfast – he’d even run out and get me coffee in the morning.

I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound so casual to me.

I took him by surprise on Thursday.  We’d been texting pretty regular, but when Monsieur le Baguette calls me, I immediately stop texting.  So Thursday Chess Player and I had been texting.  Had to stop to prepare for my big faux 5 year wedding anniversary.  At 8:30 that night he messaged me to find out what I was doing, and I said I was heading out to dinner.  “Got a hot date tonight?” he asked.  “I may,” I replied.  Got one text message back from him and then didn’t hear from him for 3 days.

I feel kind of bad.  The Chess Player is a nice guy.  I enjoy chatting with him, I’d go out with him again.  Sure we have some kind of connection, but when compared to Monsieur le Baguette, there’s really not much competition.  While MlB and I figure out what’s going on – which will not be for awhile since I’ve made it clear he has to rebound before we’re together (although he doesn’t want to) – we’re both able to see other people.  And I plan to.  So, yes, we’ll see what happens with the both of them.

The best thing I can do is be absolutely clear with the Chess Player.  Clear boundaries.  No slumber parties.  We are free to see other people.  This is may not go down the path of a long term relationship.  Maybe it’s wrong.  I’m afraid that I’m going to end up hurting The Chess Player, even with clear defined boundaries of what this is and what this is not.  It’s his choice to make, right?  If he wants to keep going or not?  As long as I’m clear with him of what I can and can’t give to him.  Right?

Fire drill

25 Mar

I think I’m like many women in that I’d love to have a steamy, torrid love affair with a spicy hot firefighter. Or at least a dirty romp. It would be stupid hot, right?

Technically, I had one once. But it didn’t really count. He was a friend (with benefits) from college. Years after we graduated he came to visit and we ended up naked in my room. He was a paramedic at the time, and training to be a firefighter. It was hot, yes, but we got together because we’d already been together.

You can imagine my delight when Tinder presented the 34 year old, 6’6″ fireman. Swipe right!! Even better, we matched!!

We started messaging and it was anything but hot. It’s like a fucking job. Dude gave me nothing to work with. Usually there’s some kind of back and forth when you message someone. Trying to get him to engage is like pulling teeth. After a few days, I stopped responding for fear he’d bore me straight into a coma.

Guess who decided to message me again yesterday and today?

Ok, I’ll bite. Know what? He’s still boring.

Why can’t he be hot and interesting so I can play out my fireman fantasies while Monsieur le Baguette works on his rebounds?