Posts Tagged ‘boy friend’

Somewhere God is Laughing

March 10, 2015

Or at least chuckling loudly.

Ever been in a room where you realize that you have, slept with two of the men in the same room, and oh, yes, so has someone else there, and you’ve made out with another, and oh, it gets better, you’ve asked two other men, in the same fucking room, out on dates.

All I needed was my ex boyfriend to walk in the door.

I knew.

I mean knew.

I was in some fit spiritual place when I laughed to myself.

I did not laugh out loud, but I smiled pretty hard.

It was funny.

It is funny.

Sometimes the world is a very small place.

Now, don’t get me confused with some sort of crazy woman, all these interactions happened at very different times and points of my life and sexual/relationship time line.

One of the guys I made out with?

It was five years ago and I’m friends with him and his wife, so like, no biggie.

The other guy, I, yes, hooked up with at Burning Man.

Come on.

It’s Burning Man.

One was a lover from before I went to Paris.

The other two were in more recent history, one guy I asked out about a year ago, and I have to say, he’s given me the best turn down I have ever gotten.

“I’m so flattered, thank you, but no.”

Quiet, sweet, firm.

We’re friends and run in the same circles.

And he’s got a girlfriend now.

The other guy, I asked out as one of the guys on my list of ten.

I was like.

REALLY?

This has never happened to me before and of in all places, the Inner Sunset?

Ha!

Then I got home and the guy who asked me out to a dessert date, even though I said I don’t eat sugar, happy to have tea with you, freaked out that I don’t eat sugar, and cancelled our date.

Whatever.

It’s all so laughable at this point.

Ah, dating.

And you know, its San Francisco, so yeah, of course there’s overlap, it’s a small world out there.

Also, I do have a community and fellowship that I prefer to date within.

They are the type of men I want to be in a relationship with, so it doesn’t strike me as so strange that a confluence of them were all in the same space.

I’m not sure what God is trying to tell me, but it’s fucking funny.

Even I can see that.

I don’t feel a bit weird about it, that’s the nice thing, I can take it all with a grain of salt and say to myself, “well, self, who’s next?”

I mean.

I’m not going to stop dating or trying to date.

Where’s the fun in that?

I believe that being light-hearted about it all is helpful, being silly can’t hurt either, not taking it so seriously, as I am wont to do with many things in my life, being easy and going with the flow and seeing what happens next.

It’s all a part of the story and the journey and life, dating, is messy.

Funny.

But messy.

I mean I don’t know a single woman or man who hasn’t had a number or horrific/silly/ghastly/laughable dates or moments in dating before finding the person they were supposed to be with.

Or not finding that person.

Or finding out that the best person to date is themselves.

“Take yourself out on a date,” I told her yesterday after we had done some reading and writing in the afternoon.

I gave her some examples of what I have done over the years.

Small things like: lighting candles when I am having dinner, buying myself flowers, drinking my water, sparkling preferably, out of a glass instead of straight from the bottle, sitting outside on the patio when the weather is nice, listening to jazz music, walking on the beach, getting a fancy coffee at a cafe.

To slightly bigger things: riding the F-Market train from the beginning of the line in the Castro to the end of the line in Fisherman’s Wharf, going to the Farmer’s Market on a Saturday at the Ferry Building and eating lunch on a bench overlooking the Bay Bridge, taking the ferry to Sausalito, spa days at Kabuki Springs, going to a matinée, walking through the rain, trips to the MOMA or the Legion of Honor, going to House of Air and trampolining, walking through the butterfly exhibit at the Conservatory of Flowers, walking through China Town with my camera, or playing pinball at Free Gold Watch.

I’ve even taken myself on some pretty fancy pants dates: one year I had a three course pre-fix menu dinner on Valentines Day at Le Zinc a French Bistro in Noe Valley, or going to Paris.

Yes, I do count that as a pretty big date, not when I moved to Paris, but when I went there in 2007 by myself for 10 days.

That was as stupendous date.

I even got lucky with a French man in the Pere Lachaise cemetery.

Well, we made out, and had I let him we would have gone further, but too many tourists around.

It was something else to have a wild-eyed dark-haired Frenchman named Philip lean me up against a 200-year-old mausoleum and kiss me silly.

So.

I know how to date.

I do.

And I make a good date.

The world is not as big as I make it out to be and so to be in a room where I had kissed three of the men, slept with two of the men, and asked out two others, isn’t such a huge deal.

A goofy deal.

A silly deal.

A nothing to take seriously deal.

Something to write about on a foggy night while I wait to see what happens next and who I will go out with this weekend.

So far.

No takers.

But you know.

The week is young.

And already weird.

I can’t wait to see what happens tomorrow.

 

Hatching Plans

January 29, 2015

I just ran into a dear, dear, dear friend of mine.

Someone who has known me for ten years.

Someone who is going to Atlanta in July.

Someone I just made plans to be hanging out with in Atlanta, in July.

Yeah.

I know, Atlanta, July, those two things seem not so amazing, too hot, too humid, but considering that San Francisco in July is fucking freezing and foggy, especially out here at the beach, a fourth of July weekend in Atlanta sound pretty amazing.

Especially considering that there will be lots, and I mean, lots of friends there.

I paid my rent early.

I paid my student loans early.

And this Friday when I get my pay check I will be paying for the convention registration, $100, and buying an airplane ticket to go to the South.

I have never been to Georgia.

I am excited.

I started making some travel plans in my head last night and as I realized that so much of actually getting to said destination has nothing to do with thinking, I had to take some actions.

Action one was writing about it.

When I write it out on my blog, it tends to happen.

Burning Man.

Paris.

Graduate school.

Boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

Ahem.

Having my own place in San Francisco.

Writing.

So much of it happens, trips, dancing, getting a Vespa, because I do the work, the little actions that add up, and it starts with writing it down.

Things can be up in my head for a while and in my head is no good.

All I do is obsess about it.

What ever “it” is.

I will obsess.

Today I choose to take an action.

I asked my friend if he had registered and he had and then I asked the big question.

Do you have a place to stay?

The hotels are already booked out close to the area of the convention and when I was doing some searching I really could not find anything appropriate hotel wise.

I did locate some things on the AirBnB site that might work for me and I have a friend in Atlanta I am sure I could peep who might let me crash on the couch, but I want to be in the thick of it with my fellows.

My friend has to confirm his reserveration.

We might be roomies.

It might be wonderful.

Either way.

I committed.

When I say I am going to do something, then I am going to do it.

That’s one of the most amazing things about the last ten years for me.

When I say I want to try it.

I do it.

Trampoling?

I’ve done it.

I might be too old to do it again, but I did it.

I told my friend that Friday I would register.

And Friday I will buy the airplane ticket too.

The best way to get me somewhere is to buy the plane ticket to the destination.

Then I’m pretty sure to show up even when I don’t know what it’s going to look like when I get there.

Paris.

When I had a little break time at work today, which was not much, the oldest boy was home again sick, I spent some time looking over my calendar for the year.

I can absolutely do Atlanta.

And I can do Atlanta without having to take any vacation days at work.

The conference is July 2-5th.

I have off for the holiday the 2nd and the 3rd, Thursday and Friday, then it’s the weekend, basically I have off, paid for the trip.

Perfection.

When I saw those dates I knew it was on.

Then seeing my friend tonight, sort of sealed the deal.

I am ready for this adventure.

Then I looked up Burning Man.

August 30-September 7th.

I have September 7th off from work, paid.

The family wants me to travel with them to Sonoma in August.

But not the first week in September.

I could take my vacation, which I haven’t taken and I get two weeks paid off for the year, and go to Burning Man.

Now.

Burning Man still depends on graduate school and the fact that the program I applied for has a one week intensive retreat to start out the semester.

I looked up the dates for the program, but realized after staring at them awhile and toggling between my calendar and the school’s website, that the program didn’t have fall 2015 listed.

The dates were for fall 2014 and spring 2015.

So, not really able to quite tell whether there is conflict in that or not.

I know there’s the retreat week I have to take for the program, but not the dates for it.

I also know there’s a weekend soon thereafter, I’ve applied to the program that is the intensive, so it’s full time school, but only on the weekends, which may or may not conflict with Burning Man.

Plus.

I did have the thought, the family might not be too keen on me taking all my vacation time in the same month.

Then again.

I can always ask.

Still.

Not going to know what’s happening along those lines for a minute yet.

I won’t know until March if I got in.

Although I did get the thumbs up from one of my letters of recommendation that it was being sent off this weekend, which is good.

February 1st is the deadline for the program.

Then next.

The trip to Chula Vista.

Which I was admonished by a cousin to make sure I co-ordinate with everyone in the family so that I could visit more than just my grandmother.

I’m excited by the prospect.

Getting to know my father’s side of the family really feels like a special thing.

I will get a hold of my grandmother this weekend and see what her time frame is too.  I don’t want to make any plans without consulting her as well.

But a spring time visit to Chula Vista seems definitely on the books.

Then a jaunt to the North Woods to see my best friend.

When?

Fuck if I know.

But I know.

It will happen.

Sometimes just saying it will make it so.

And so along those lines.

I am hereby ready to be asked out on a date.

Haha.

No.

Really, I am.

That was the last of my “plans” for the weekend.

Allowing myself to be asked out.

I realized.

Again.

That my picker is broken.

So instead of doing the asking.

I am going to wait to be asked.

Go on.

Ask.

I’ll make room for you, kind sir.

My schedule may look busy, but I’ll squeeze you in.

You have my word.

It may be around some travel plans.

But you’ll like Burning Man.

I swear.

It’s not that dusty.

 

He Walks Away

January 18, 2015

The sun goes down.

He takes the day.

But I am grown.

My tears dry on their own.

And like that.

I am single again.

The man and I ended it last night.

Nine weeks to the day of our first date.

It felt longer.

I dare say because I was so present for so much of it.

Oh.

There were things, issues, stuff, the stuff of life, the things that happen, the shut down, me, I can shut down.  I can get silent, I can step away and my heart can break even when I know that there is no going backwards only forwards into that deep unknown of intimacy.

Into me you see.

Yes.

That.

When I am not being my self than I am not allowing for intimacy and boy have I learned a lot about myself over these past few months.

Again, really, it was just two months.

Jam packed months, my father’s accident, the trip to Anchorage and back, my birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, my sobriety anniversary.

I knew on my anniversary that it was over.

I knew last Friday that it was probably over after we had our get right with God conversation about what we both wanted from the relationship.

I am not going to focus on what he said to me, because that is not for your eyes, just for my heart and the confidence of a few close friends and mentors.

And thank God I made plans to be out dancing and celebrating my anniversary.

I was surrounded by people who love and care for me and told me how much they did and I was deeply moved, to tears, a number of times by the outpouring of love from my friends.

I am so lucky to have these relationships in my life.

I cannot help grieve that which is passing, I’m on the verge of crying right now, the grief it is very much there, sitting on top of my throat, heavy on my heart, but I know that I can walk through it and come out strong, more valuable and tempered, like steel in fire.

I have become that much more realized.

For having realized what I need in a romantic relationship.

Hell.

In all my relationships.

And that relationships, romantic or otherwise, take work.

Gobs and gobs and gobs of work.

It is easier to be single, I found out.

To do what I want, when I want, regardless of anyone else, to have my own agenda, to be safe, to be in a cocoon, to rest and take my leisure.

I want, however, to be in a relationship and I am going to keep dating.

I am not putting my heart up on a shelf to grow old and dusty and insensate with time.

Nope.

I mean, I’m not going to go re-open my OkCupid profile and I’m not going to Tinder and I am not going to go scroll through Face Book and find that special someone tonight.

My heart, she is sweet and needs to have a moment or two to let the man go.

Move aside and let the man go through, let the man go through.

To let go of the fantasy too.

He’s a perfect man.

I am a perfect woman.

And the relationship was exactly what it was supposed to be.

I can still have grief around it and sorrow and have feelings.

But I don’t want to wallow.

I don’t want to not put it right back out to the Universe.

Hey God, who do you want me to date, please show me and help me to move toward the man who you want me to be with.

A-fucking-men.

I didn’t know if I was going to write about it tonight after getting my dancing on with my friends at Public Works, which, in case you were wondering, was fantastic.

It started a little slow, but the groove was great and the Fleetwood Mac remixes and disco beat with a little Northern Stomp and Detroit four on the floor, was a delight to get my hips moving.

I needed that.

I needed that bad.

Sometimes a girl has to dance.

Sometimes a girl has to cry.

I’ll do that too.

I did a bit today, it would come and go in waves.

The sun on my face as I sat and ate lunch at an open table in the cafe and suddenly my eyes start leaking.

Or when I showed up to see my girlfriends at Firewood Cafe.

I dreaded going.

I dreaded walking up the hill in the Castro to the restaurant, I did not want to tell them, although I had already told my three best girls, that the relationship was over.

Done.

Kaput.

No more.

Although he wants to be friends.

And that’s a possibility, a good likelihood, not now, I don’t think now is the time, we both need space.

In fact we agreed to no contact for 90 days.

Which is actually longer than we dated, but felt right when we were discussing it.

And as I mentioned, the conversation, that’s private, but the actions taken, the sincerity of the speech, the honesty, the showing the fuck up and wo (man’ing) up, the being brave and walking through, not doing it over the phone or in a text, but person to person and with integrity.

That was an amazing experience.

Painful?

Fuck yes.

Jesus.

Please.

Bring me the box of tissue ok.

But honest, sincere, right-minded, real, I am blown away by how we both walked through it with the best of intentions and the most honesty that I have ever had in a break up.

I am extraordinarily grateful for that.

I sort of wanted to pat my teary self on the back for doing it and being open and allowing myself to be exactly there and me.

Well.

There was some self-deprecating humor on my part on one point, but really the levity was there and we parted ways clean.

It all feels very grown up and real.

Tiring too.

I am going to sleep better tonight I think; I hope.

It was hard to go to sleep last night and harder to stay in bed, I just got up and got moving.

I suspect I am going to have to sit in some feelings and not check out.

Just sit and feel them.

Let them pass through me and over me.

And when they go I will turn, stronger, face forward, and walk on.

Toward the man I am supposed to be with.

And when I meet him.

I will be ready.


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