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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.

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?

It’s your move

20 Mar

Well guess who has been awfully chatty over the last few days?  Looks like the Chess Player still has some moves he’s looking to make.

Saturday morning, barely hours since I had left his apartment, he was texting me.  Asking about the weekend, telling me he’d had fun, wanting to know more about me.  Foundation, I assumed, for a future hook up.  He asked a few questions about why I had decided to go home with him.  He joked about having me back in his exceptionally soft sheets.  Of course he was telling me how hot, interesting, smart, charming, and talented I was, and how much fun he had had.

Wouldn’t you know it?  He’s pretty funny.

He’s also, a bit of shock when you factor in the 11 year age difference, genuinely interested.  Or perhaps it’s that he’s intrigued?  He asks about my day.  I had a big launch of a project I had mentioned to him and he asked how it went.  Do booty calls do that?  Because he also called me “amazing”.  And not in a sexual kind of way (he used “talented” for that).  He also wants to know what kinds of shows I like to watch.  Where I want to go on vacation.  What I like about my job.  The books I like to read.  Today he told me he’s a champion snuggler – I can vouch for those skills.

Texts first thing in the morning and last thing at night (for him).  We were in the midst of texting last night when Monsieur le Baguette called me. I stopped texting the Chess Player, because well it was Monsieur le Baguette, I mean come on!  He assumed that I had just fallen asleep (it was kind of late) and he sent me a little kissy winky face goodnight text.

What’s his game here?

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20 Mar

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The Chess Player

17 Mar

You know sometimes on a Friday all you want to do is crawl in bed. As you’re settling in for the afternoon thinking about what you’ll do for dinner one of your friends calls and convinces you to go out for a drink.  So you grumble under your breath while you get dressed and do your make up and say yourself, “I’m going to stay out for max two drinks, and I’ll be in my flannel jammies by 8:30.”  You drive downtown because uber is stupid expensive due to peak hours and think that driving will make it easier for you to sneak out early.  And oh look, a princess parking spot in front of the bar!

You’re winning already.

You head upstairs, see your friends and think it’s a good idea to start with a gin and tonic (extra limes) because your friends have been drinking beer since noon and you kinda feel like you should catch up even though you’re going to stay out for max two drinks.  More people start arriving and it turns out they work for your old company and so you start making all of the connections and someone asks you why your drink is empty and you order some water because you’re pacing yourself because you’ll have to drive home later.  And then it’s time to order an orange crush and you are talking to your friend’s boyfriend and he asks what you’re drinking and when you tell him he tells you you’re “crushin it” and you can’t help but lolz.

That’s when he introduces you to the tall drink of water who just moved to the area a few months ago.  He’s 33.  He’s smart.  He’s interesting.  You casually sip your drink while you flirt with him for awhile.  You’re introduced to other people who end up standing between the two of you so you move on and glance over every once in awhile and he keeps looking at you.

You’re finishing your drink and it’s time to go home.  Some of your friends are getting ready to leave for another bar and you’re going to go ahead and go and then the tall drink of water asks, “are you coming?” as he’s being dragged out the door.  Game time decision here.  That’s when you say to your other friends, “let’s go for one drink.”

So you find yourself walking 10 blocks to the next bar and when you get there he’s saved you a seat and asks you if he can buy you a drink.  Meanwhile you’re thinking, “what the fuck is happening and why the hell not?”  Because when was the last time you went out to a bar, met someone who was cute and charming who wanted to buy you a drink and who you wanted to flirt with?  You sit down and order the drink and he sits next to you.  When two more seats become available he holds the seats and your friends try to cock block you and you say, “no, no, you sit here and I’ll move down,” so you can sit next to him.

You sit your ass down on that barstool and you order another drink.  You find yourself talking about travel, and work, and family, and regrets, and basketball, and moving to a new city, and all sorts of stuff while he gazes at you with his blue eyes.  You start talking about chess and find out he’s one of those guys who can read all the moves in advance and you ask him if he can do that in life and he tells you, “usually.”  You wonder if he already knows how this is going to play out and if he’s calculating what moves he’ll make to get the outcome he wants.  You ask yourself, “I wonder if he knows how old I am?”  Obviously you look for an opportunity to drop it into the conversation and when you do he doesn’t blink an eye, he just goes with it.

Your other friends decide they’re going to leave, so only the two of you are left.

The Chess Player keeps gazing at you and he grabs your hands, and he gives you this look, and you ask, “what’s that look?” He responds, “I’m thinking about kissing you,” as he tugs your hands towards him and you lean forward.  That’s when you start making out at the bar.  In the middle of March Madness.  Surrounded by people cheering on UMBC.  It’s just the two of you.  Suddenly it’s 10:30.  You’ve been at the bar over three hours.  Where did the time go?

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asks.  You find yourself saying, “yes”.  He picks up the tab and you walk the 10 blocks back to your car to drive to his place.  You’re thinking, “am I really going home with this guy?  Yes, yes I am.”  When was the last time you went home with someone you met at a bar?  Was it college?  Shortly after, at least 10 years ago.  A lifetime ago.  Sure, you had an exceptional romp the night before – thanks to Tinder – but this is the type of chemistry real life has produced.

Why not just go with it?

You’re at his place.  It’s pretty swanky.  Incredible view of the city.  Then you’re on the couch and your top is on the floor, quickly followed by just about everything else and he says, “we can always go in there,” gesturing to his bedroom.  You hop off his lap and lead him into his room and crawl into his bed.  There you proceed to lose every last stitch of clothing and remain for the next couple of hours.

When it’s done, he wraps his arms around you and you lay there and talk about work and whatever and nothing and he says, “you’re hot, you know that.  Right?”  You say, “thank you.” and think to yourself, “maybe I’m kinda decent looking if I’ve made out with four guys in eight days and ended up in various states of undress with each of them.”  You ask him if he had played this out and calculated the moves it would take to get to his bedroom.  He says, “yes.”  He tells you he’d read the signals.  There were only two options, yes or no, and the signals all pointed to yes.

He says, “you can stay.”  You get up and get dressed, he asks for your number.  You walk out.  He texts you before you get to the car.

You think to yourself, “I’m a fucking sex panther.”

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