Kicking Doubt in the Ass

This may be the lingering effects of watching Sex and the City 2 last night, or the fact that it is my TOM, but this morning I woke up feeling old. Ancient. Perhaps I should start applying yam facials.

And I woke up with a mild case of the "How Can I Possibly Sustain LD Michigan Man's Interest?" Writing all that down in Communion really set it into reality. This guy is really into me. And all of that advice out there about how to keep a man interested, and how you shouldn't tell him everything, and how you should play a few mind games, and how impossible it is to sustain interest long-distance. Blah blah blah blah blah.

You know, we are our own worst enemies. Which was so bloody obvious in that over-the-top ridiculous movie. Please, Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha, what do you have to be insecure about? Grow up, stand tall, and rock the life you've been given, you fictional NYC women you.

I will not be anything other than myself. And if interest wans, then interest wans. If I'm giving 100% and the best I can give, then I have no need to worry. All I can do is make sure that I'm happy and I'm getting what I need. And if I am my usual giving self, and he recognizes and respects that, we should be all right.

Talking myself off the ledge. This has been fun. See, loving myself can be such a wonderful thing.

Carry on with your usual enjoyable Sunday. I've got some ACs to install (ugh) and some Red Sox to watch (yay).

Communion

Where the hell have I been?

Good question.

As best as can be described, I have been in communion. 

Not Holy Communion, for all you Cath-o-holics.

But communion of the deepest kind. And I've come up for air. Sweet intoxicating air.

 

com·mu·nion
Pronunciation: \kə-ˈmyü-nyən\

Etymology: Middle English, from Latin communion-, communio mutual participation, from communis

Date: 14th century

1 : an act or instance of sharing

3 : intimate fellowship or rapport

 

I have been in communion with myself. Spending some serious 1:1 time with numero uno. Loving myself is hard work, you know that? Ever try it? Really, you should. It is good for the soul to love yourself.

 

And...

 

I have been in communion with the LD Michigan Man. When he began dedicating some valuable after-work time to getting to know me better, I decided to do the same rather than blow him off for some local flavor instead. The DVR'd shows could wait, the blog could wait, baseball could be watched simultaneously, and sometimes, even the sleep could wait.

 

What we found:

• An ability to talk on the phone for hours without an awkward pause even though we're two people who really cannot stand to be on the phone.
• A combined love of music that seems interwoven with our lives.
• A combined love of travel and history.
• A deeper love of baseball than we originally realized.
• A man who thinks and plans ahead for all possible opportunities.
• A woman who is wicked afraid to fall again.
• A man who is incredibly patient and not at all slimeball. (The hurt woman in me keeps wondering how this is possible.)
• Two people who, in one month, have inspired the other to start dreaming again about things each had thought were out-of-reach in their respective lives.

I dropped ALL of the others in the stable, and never even cringed for a moment over them. Easy come, easy go. 

 

But LD Michigan might be a keeper. For the record, I say might because I'm trying to stay level-headed, not because I sense a single red flag. You know me, I wouldn't keep red flags to myself. 

Am I a little wary that I don't see any red flags? Surprised, yes. Wary, no.

 

We meet in 32 days, and then we'll know a lot more.

 

Until then, I am enjoying this communion, and as he and I both agreed, "we might as well fly while we feel we can."

Mid-Western Man to Visit Jersey

I have managed to eCharm another mid-western man to come visit me in New Jersey. Seriously, Governor Christie should thank me. Perhaps with a nice little rebate or something.

Long-standing friends will know that last year, I had a mid-west eHarmless (not to be confused with my own unique brand of eCharm) visitor who didn't last long in Jersey, choosing to be taken to the airport early in fact, because he just couldn't handle being around my dog. Yeah. Whatever. And months later, we all came to the conclusion that perhaps he was in the closet gay when my moves and vivacious offers to him while we were out in Vegas came to naught but frustration on my part.

Well, the LD Michigan man, my Mikey Lowell lookalike, is most definitely not in the closet. He's a man's man. Nor does he live with his mother. Sad when this is actually a rarity. Sign of the economy or age-related? As previously mentioned...

The LD Michigan man. My age. Loves baseball. Looks a bit like Mikey Lowell! Very good chance we'll meet, perhaps during the July 4th weekend. Hard to know more without eyeballing. Gives good cam eyeball though.

He's quite decisive in his pursuit of me. Ticket is booked, plans are set. I love that feeling. So refreshing. And he's quite determined to see if his interest in me is sustainable face-to-face. We've been rather matter-of-fact about things for the most part, basing our previous experiences on meeting people online and long-distance; we know it could go from vibrant to dead within 24 hours of meeting.

Yet hope springs eternal that we might all find someone with whom to pass the idle hours of life. After all, I'm a Red Sox fan and he's a Cubs fan. We know what it is like to put energy and effort into something and believe with all your heart that it is possible to win.

And just in time to remind me of this, the peonies in the front yard are blooming.

And the lake sunsets are reminding me why I continue to pay rent here.

Demo Girl

I have been so busy that my life is falling apart somewhat, like ever-so-slightly frayed edges of a well-worn favorite t-shirt.

Dishes need to be done. Jungle Lawn needs to be cut. Bills need to be paid.

Even notably, my DVR hates me, straining at the seams with over 70 recorded shows to watch. And then there is the half-finished series The Tudors on Netflix that I long to get back to.

Who am I kidding? When will I ever find the time?

Is this what happens when someone has a social life? There must be some way to balance it all.

This weekend I was a "demo girl" for a presentation given by The Actor. As previously mentioned...

The Actor. My age. Sincerely warm, sweet guy who has a spanking fetish ... Likely to be a friend and nothing more...

The presentation was about spanking for fun. Spanking with humor. Yep. For real. These people are great. They know how to laugh. They know how to communicate. They don't give a bloody Effin about you being thin, fat, tall, short, bald, purple, blue, orange, gay, or straight. And they just happen to have a hobby that is a little bit different from, oh say, playing softball.

Anyway, I was asked to help out with the presentation, because I would make a great "demo girl" apparently. And why was that? Well, I guess my facial expressions and my honest, genuine curiosity would be great for new people to see. I'm thinking more along the lines that "fresh blood" draws a crowd. The Actor likely needed new demo girls after wearing the old ones out!

This is likely the closest I'll ever get to being a model/actor/performer in any way shape or form. Although I still need to try karaoke, so there's still some small chance I'll make it big in the karaoke world.

It was very interesting. The stage. The lights. The audience (about 20 people) all seated as if they were going to watch a play.

The part of the presentation that involved me was really short, and it was about using music. How appropriate is that considering I list music as one of my Six Things I Can't Live Without? Anyway, I got spanked to the drumbeat of Foreigner. Yes. That 80s group. I've Been Waiting for Girl Like You. Hilarious, isn't it? Good. It was supposed to be. I laughed nearly the whole way through it. In the end, a great stress relief.

At the party that followed the presentation, there were a lot more people dressed up like gods and goddesses and angels. Apparently it was a theme. A man approached me, said he liked my demo, and then we started talking about other types of kinky stuff. And before you know it, I was also trying flogging. It was an interesting thuddy smacking noise and honestly felt like a really nice back massage. I'm sure someone who gets it on the front of their body wouldn't have the same review.

I met many more people. Everyone was so warm and friendly.

And then my heart skipped a beat. I saw a dead ringer for a young Rick Springfield at the bar.

Tall, thin, long black hair, dark eyes, wearing black. Our eyes met for a long long time across way. I didn't have the nerve to go up and talk to him until just before I was leaving. I really had to push myself. I took a deep breath, stood next to him while he was looking elsewhere.

I let out my breath, "Hey..." as if I'd just run a marathon and when he turned toward me, I leaned in close to his ear so I would only have to say it once, "You are by far the sexiest man here tonight." And I quickly stepped back, prepared to go, so he would know I had no intention of taking up his time or anything. I really was leaving with my coat on and everything.

He smiled a genuine grin, and asked, "Can I please kiss your cheek?" OhMyGod, slight accent.

Of course, he hadn't asked for my number, or in this group's case, email or profile name.

In hindsight, it would not have been inappropriate if I retorted, "Which one?" or just turned around and bent over. Instead I said "Sure." Leaned in, he kissed it, said thank you, I said you're welcome. I stepped back and left as quickly as my feet could take me.

I don't know what in the hell that was. A severe case of Cinderella complex or what? Was I hoping he'd come after me on the stairs up to the street and profess his lusty need for a fat chick in a red bra, lace stockings and black wedge heeled boots? He didn't.

I barely made it home awake. The ride out of the city after a night like that is just simply too damn long. I need a chauffeur. But once I was home, I did dream about the Rick Springfield lookalike. You can take the spanking demo girl out of the romantic setting, but you can't take the romantic out of the 80s wild child.

Building a Stable

So this is really new for me. With that promise to live in the moment 3 years ago to my dying dog, believe it or not, I've been on a mental, emotional, and physical transformational journey.

Now, as I see it, I have 10, maybe 15 GOOD years left. You know what I mean? As in, in 15 years if there's an earth left, I'll pretty much be left to the company of animals and friends, rather than men. And that's perfectly OK with me. So it's time to just toss the traditional relationship idea off to the sidelines I think.

Most of my life, I haven't taken great care of myself, but that's changed. I also have a family history of poor health, but hopefully I can stem the tide of that somewhat with knowledge my mother never had in her life. So yes, in conclusion, as I see it, I have that short window left to really just get the hell out there and enjoy life. And since no one knows when our number is up....right?

And in symmetry with the blog change, I began, almost by coincidence, to actually, really enjoy life. Not just suffer through it, not just live to work, but work to live.

Part of the reasoning for the cheery outlook is definitely that this seems to be the moment of lust, because there are men coming out of the woodwork...not to just email me, not to just IM me, but to meet me. Eyeball to eyeball. And this is a first.

I have two friends who have always told me men flock to me. I have always thought they were ridiculously misguided, loving friends, and I would always retort, "I don't know if that's true, but they sure don't stick around do they."

But since I've let go of the waste of money sites (eHarmless, Matchless, and ChemstryNot) and focused just on the free OKCupid (yes sometimes I bash it and call it OKStupid) and on the network of people I've met in NYC, I have so many guys interested and some many interesting guys that I almost don't know how to narrow down the field. I feel like I'm betting on a Kentucky Derby race and some are contenders for the Triple Crown.

I just compared my dates to thoroughbred horses. Oh boy, can someone get me a Mint Julep, a Blackeyed Susan, and a Belmont Breeze please?

Honestly, I am not writing to brag. I'm writing to document in case I forget who they are!

The young cub. Much too young. I test-drove him. He's a winner in the feel-good, sex buddy category.

The blue-green-eyed finance man. My age. Handsome as hell and out of my league. This guy makes me laugh and feel sexy. Potential summer fling material, starting as soon as next week.

The LD Michigan man. My age. Loves baseball. Looks a bit like Mikey Lowell! Very good chance we'll meet, perhaps during the July 4th weekend. Hard to know more without eyeballing. Gives good cam eyeball though.

The LD Minnesota man (formerly Mr Real Potential). My age. He's a Red Sox fan, you may recall. I also said my date with him was the best date I'd been on since 2006 I think. But I shifted him into the nothing but a "when in town on business dinner hotel romp." His real potential went out the door when he told me he wasn't able to think about a serious relationship until he moves back to Jersey (next year). I'm still friendly with him because he was honest with me. He could have strung me along for the sex.

The Actor. My age. Sincerely warm, sweet guy who has a spanking fetish when he isn't an extra in various NYC-filmed series. Likely to be a friend and nothing more, although I've earned the nickname "demo girl" from him. More on this to come.

The Kinkster. Lives around the corner, less than a mile. Funny guy. My age, divorced, working 3 jobs to support 2 kids. Test-drove him. He qualifies as a nice, wild FwB and he buys breakfast. Bonus.

The Musician. Another young cub. Has toured the country and Europe playing music. Yet to meet. Perhaps this weekend.

Trust me, if you're wondering how you're going to follow along, I'm wondering how I'm going to keep them straight in my head and my date book.

Then again, 3 could come up lame, 2 could blow out mid-race, and 1....well, all it takes is one, right?

So who is your early money on?

Welcome

Welcome, welcome, welcome...

Find a cozy spot and oh, could you pass me that half empty wine bottle?

We've still got some unpacking to do, but I think it is starting to look nice around here.

For those diehards who still want to get an email every time I post, how is it you're reading this right now? Haha, caught you! But seriously, if you must get an email instead, message me. It seems blogger will send an email to a FEW (less than 10) people each time the blog updates. This can work while I figure out what happened to Feedblitz. (I think it went the way of the non-free.)

I'll reserve these select email slots for those of you who are afraid of the web for one reason or another or who just simply don't have time to figure out what an RSS feed is or how to bookmark this blog in your browser.

Yes, I love you that much not to spill wine over it.

I have been so busy since I stopped blogging...
busy building....
a stable....
of....
men....

Next post, promise.

Freshness Dating

I think this blog is about as fresh as a just-picked strawberry. That’s right; not quite sweet enough to eat yet, but give it a day or two and ohmygoodness is it ever going to taste delicious.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my old blog. It has those crazy dates I've survived over the past three years. And my longing for my sweet dog. And those crazy days of exercise. That blog is like a comfortable 3-year old sweatshirt with holes in it. But just like that sweatshirt, there’s a time to wear it and a time not to wear it. And I think I’m entering a new season of crazy; a time in my life when I’d rather wear lingerie and boots than sweatshirts.

I almost named this blog Not Your Sister’s Blog, because I wanted to make my sister laugh each time she saw it, and I wanted to warn remind her that she may read things in here she wouldn’t know about her sister otherwise.

My trips to the city are becoming more frequent. My dates in general are picking up in pace. My dry spell seems to be ending; too early to tell. There doesn't seem to be a relationship among any of them, but I am really learning to be at ease with that and like I promised my sweet Sena, I am living in the moment.

It is the 1st summer of my 4th decade. Are you ready to join me while I have some fun? A new acquaintance of mine has stated that this will be the Summer of One Lusty Sagittarian. I am so ready. Bring it on!