Episode 5: The Fuck Buddy, Visited and Revisited

So had a vacay with The Fuck Buddy this weekend. However, The Fuck Buddy has been demoted to “That Friend I Had Sex With Once.” “What happened!?” You’re exclaiming (I can hear you over the interwebs, yes.) Well here, let me tell you…

Spent the weekend with the Fuck Buddy and things were all right and good. We’re still friends so things weren’t awkward or anything. We drank, went out for drinks at some silly club, did Tequila shots, and then, oh yeah, we drank some more. So by the end of the evening, I’m pretty far gone, and I’m expecting to get some. Sweet victory.

Oh wait. Monkey wrench.

So he doesn’t seem to catch on to any physical cues (odd) so I decide maybe I need to be more direct. Like with text messages. (Which have always been direct. Sense any sarcasm? I do.) So I start the evening with the good ol “Fuck Me” text message, which I think may have been misspelled because I was drunk texting, but the point was still received Well. At least the text was received. I didn’t actually get any confirmation or response.

Then I sent the ol “don’t answer that,” like I’m thinking “Oh my God, I didn’t actually send that?” But I know I sent that. He knows I sent that. It was sent. Whoops. I send that thinking that he’ll think I’m embarrassed, but I’m actually not. I just want him to react.

No reaction.

So by the time we return to our lodging, it’s very late, I still haven’t heard anything from the Fuck Buddy about my text messages. He disappears for a moment, and I catch him on the phone… for what probably is an hour or so, talking to a girl he was in a long-distance relationship with. Uh, okay. Whatever. Doesn’t bother me. They aren’t “together” anymore, and facebook says he’s “single,” so F that. But then it starts to occur to me that maybe he doesn’t want to fuck, and he’s still stuck on this girl, so in a final attempt, and my last bit of willingness to embarrass myself in the hopes of sex, I send “honesty is the best policy” thinking he’ll feel guilty and tell me the truth: to fuck, or not to fuck.

He finishes his phone call, sees my text and laughs: “honesty is the best policy?” he asks. Then he snuggles up next to me on the couch.

Talk about mixed messages.

The next day, things are good and fine. We go through the day as “buddies,” the “fuck” prefix started to fade from our situation. That night, we’re partying again, and I’m not as drunk as I was the night before for sure, but he’s gone. We’re talking blackout. Like I won’t be surprised if he calls today and was like “what happened?” But during this delicious moment of drunken hilarity, he made a call to a friend, who had hooked up with some random girl, and it sounded like, offered to hook my buddy up with someone too.

“No,” he says over the phone “I’m committed to somebody right now.”
Or something like that. Paraphrased. Sue me. Trust me, that’s pretty close to what he said and I don’t think I could have possibly misinterpreted it. Woah.

So he wasn’t sleeping with me because he was “with someone.” Who, I have no idea. I’m thinking it’s long distance girl… and I have some reasons as to how I know. It includes reading text messages over someone’s shoulder (whoops) and reading things I could have quite frankly gone without knowing.

Officially, we are at friend level. That One Friend I Had Sex With Once is still a dear pal and I will continue to kick it with him regardless of who he’s having phone sex with long-distance style. He’s a great friend, and was there for me this weekend when I needed to escape my big city life. Thanks, Buddy.

Episode 4: Blast from the Past

A couple on the train is standing close by, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears and kissing each other's cheeks, as if nothing else mattered. They are completely infatuated with each other, and think nothing of anyone else looking on. Almost as sickening as it is, their gazes are intoxicating to each other, and I have to look away to keep my gag reflex from kicking in. (When did I become so disconnected from what love does to people?) It is almost irritating that they are so comfortable being affectionate in a public place.

I remember when I was like that.

I made the mistake of calling my ex today. But not like you think. I was at work and a task was asked of me that I knew he'd be able to help me with (as he was much more knowledgeable in the topic. Example: boss says "find me a specific computer piece" except I don't know what it is, but exboyfriend is a computer geek, therefore he could help me figure out what it is. I only use him as a resource when google is really no help.) Anyway, he didn't answer his phone so I left a message, a horrible babbling message, hoping he'd call me back.
"Hey, it's me. Sorry for bothering you but I need to ask a favor..."
I tell him to call me back on the office phone *insert number here* because my cell phone has been dead all day. (Way to plug it in before sleeping last night...)
However, luck finds me quickly, and I figure out most of the issue by myself (and from a little help from a store owner who was very nice and ended up giving me a $100 discount on the purchase I made.) So I call exboyfriend back to tell him to disregard my message and everything is fine.
But this time he picks up. I immediately start babbling... it last for about a minute. "I'm sorry for calling yadda yadda nevermind yadda yadda I figured it out." I literally talked from the second he said "hello" for about a minute and a half about how I was really sorry for calling and whatnot and I felt kind of dumb doing it, but it was totally necessary.

He said it was "fine" and "not to worry," he hadn't even gotten the message yet. Then, without missing a beat, he said the most horrifying thing he could have possibly said, the one thing that proved I was erased from his life:
"Who is this?"

Episode 3: Craigslist Adventures Part Deux

Last night started part 2 of the experiment. I quickly discovered that this was either the best idea I’ve ever had, or quite possibly the worst. Only time will tell.

After deciding that men that post personal ads on craigslist are expecting the girl to be the aggressor, I’ve figured out that quite possibly this was not the route to go. So I abandoned The Baker and decided I should post an ad of my own. Then I’ll be able to sit back, and make them do most of the work. Make them come to me. Smart girl.

So after posting the ad, I abandon my computer and decide to watch an episode of whatever crap is running on E! at that hour. It’s like Denise Richards or something with vibrators which reminds me I need to buy batteries. I go back to check my email (no more than 20 minutes later) and I have an onslaught of emails. I am suddenly very, very popular. More so than I was in high school.

So after weeding through the various emails, ranging from bad, (“Hi my name is Joe. I’m an actor. Send me a picture cause I need to be physically attracted to you.”) to the really bad, (“Call me. I love eating pussy. 555-555-5555.”) to maybe reasonable (“You seem really funny and smart… meet for drinks?”)

In the end, I narrowed about 25 down to 3…

The cutest guy, who shall be referred to as “The Friend,” seemed to be a genuinely good match personality wise. He shares similar interests and seems to think I’m funny. I approve. However, I begin to realize that maybe The Friend and I are stuck in “just friends” mode. Things don’t become flirtatious and I’m finding him to appear as my confidant… he’s basically getting all of the back-information about what’s going on, and I fear we’ll never get beyond that point. He even described to me a recent situation where he tried craiglist, and the girl became his best friend instead of a girlfriend. I mean, it’s nice to have friends, but I don’t really need many more dude friends. I’m not sure what to do.

Then there’s “The Uncle” (who after tonight may become “The Creepy Uncle”.) I’ve agreed to meet this guy for drinks, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. In fact, I’m honestly incredibly uncomfortable with it and I’m not sure if I want to go at all. The reason he’s called “The Uncle” is because he is old enough to be; he’s 13 years older than me. (Parents would not approve. Well, parents would not approve of this entire experiment.) I suppose there’s no harm in meeting him for a drink to see if there’s sparks, and I suppose I can be really honest (“Sorry. I just don’t feel a connection.”) or whatever and see where it goes. The Friend’s stance is that I should ditch him and go hang out with him, or he should be my wingman. Great. So my new best friend has already agreed to be my wingman on my blind dates. Sigh.

Then the third guy I haven’t really been able to define yet. He seems like a well rounded nice guy. I don’t even have a secret nickname for him yet. We’ll see if he works his way up on the leader board.

I’m just feeling slightly terrified about this whole thing and hope I don’t end up raped or murdered later tonight. I’m going to a bar I know (so I know all the emergency exits) but I hope I don’t run into anyone I know. Whoops. We’ll see how this goes.

I have a lot of work to do this week, and probably not enough time to date. I’ve clearly over-extended myself. Wah wah.

Episode 2: Craigslist Adventures

In a random attempt of pushing myself to new ridiculous extremes, I responded to a slightly sarcastic, and intriguing, craigslist personal ad. What was I thinking? Apparently not much. I picked one that was a little less sketchy and sent an email to the guy. His ad didn't have a picture, which I thought was bold, not knowing if this guy would end up hideously deformed or with a giant facial tattoo or something (just the type to bring home to mom!) He eventually responded, and seems like a generally nice guy. He sent back a picture that was a little on the tiny side (aka, if blown up in "preview" bigger than 1x2, it looks like colored squares.) Anywho, he seems generally chill, but had a tendency to mention how busy he was with his job: a full time pastry chef at a 3-star restaurant. (He mentioned this multiple times.) The Baker also mentioned that his schedule consists of working and then going home to sleep. 

So I responded to the personal ad of someone who doesn't really have time for anyone else right now? Cute.

He also mentioned that my specific career has weird hours too (it does) and that I probably had a similar lifestyle (I do?) Anywho, we've been shooting emails back and forth (shorter by the day...) and I'm beginning to think that, oh hey, maybe he's just not into me. I'm getting craigslist rejected? Ugh.

It's not just the fact he seems to have ZERO time to socialize (or just chooses not to?) or that his emails never include any questions about me (just responses to the things I ask him, usually clarifying the previous email), but it's that he has made no attempt at "we should get coffee" or "want to go see the new Hulk movie?" It's just "I'm so busy. I work and sleep and when I get out I'm tragically disappointed with the bar scene." (Join the club.) Okay, so should I take this as a hint for me to be like "want to get coffee" or is this a hint that he's just not that into me?

Or maybe I'm just not that into him. I need someone a little more aggressive and less... depressed about the social scene I suppose. I need more encouraging to go out, not to stay in and be tempted to call The Fuck Buddy for another round

Episode 1: The Fuck Buddy

I slept with a friend. I'm not sure if it was a mistake or not... it's kind of a question of: "OMG do I care if my friend knows how terrifying my vagina is?" (Well, my vagina isn't really terrifying, I just think it is. I've been told it's quite nice, actually. My vagina and I just disagree on a few things.) 

It was good sex. Surprisingly good. Much better than I expected for a insanely drunk evening. In reflection, I feel like a total tard. I wish I could erase half of the things I did. Somewhere between a slightly over-exaggerated moan and the "bored of missionary? let's doggy style!" moment, lies the one sentence I wish I had never uttered, what in my mind is the equivalent to an unexpected fart (no. DID NOT do that.) I said, the lamest thing you could say post-coital: "Was it good?"

Of course it was good. It was fucking. It wasn't even sex or making love. It was fucking. You got off. I (sort of) got off. It was great. We had a good time. No need to kill it with a "was it good?" moment. Fuck, I wish I hadn't said it. But it was so quiet. The moment was so dead. I had sobered a little up between missionary and girl-on-top, and after he came and we were lying in front of the fan, in his now very sweaty, very naked, very sexy room, I asked if it was good. I'm a fucking fresh-out-of-the-kennel puppy looking for sexual confirmation that I do not suck in the sack and that my ex did not steal every bit of sexuality I owned. I got an exhausted, eyes-half-closed "yeah," and I guess at the time it was good enough for me and I passed out in his drunken arms. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I slept in THE NOOK. Oh GOD it was lovely. I wished we had woken up in the morning and I had snuggled into the nook more and he looks at me and goes: "the nook, was it good?"

Only in my horrifying, embarrassed, dreams. What a mockery.

What I think was the best about this sex, and why it actually became "fucking", was because we were both in the sexual mindset of a "man"; neither one of us were concerned with much emotional aspects or consequences associated with two friends having casual sex. We fucked. It was good. That's it. No emotional attachment. I don't even want to date him. Not even slightly interested in dating him or being his girlfriend, which struck me as odd, because whenever hookups happened in the past, it's ALL I wanted... it was almost desperate.

But with him, the "fuck buddy," it was like we just accepted it as us having fun. It's like if we played a board game or baked cookies together. Just another thing friends do together... apparently.

Don't get me wrong: he's not unattractive by any means. He is probably one of the hottest guys I know. But I guess I'm not intellectually attracted to him, just... perpetually want to have marathon sex with him over and over again.

I don't see anything wrong with having a "fuck buddy" but it hasn't been discussed (I plan on doing it next time we are lying naked together in bed... doing the "girl" thing with "labels" - fuck, what dude wouldn't mind being labeled a non-monogamous "fuck buddy"?) but what I've heard from friends is bad news. I stray from the norm, however, and maybe me and "The Fuck Buddy" can just be really good friends that show how much they care by getting shit-faced and having marathon sex. Works for me.

Preface

I could start at the beginning, but that might be a waste of time. All I think you need to know is that I just got out of a long-term relationship (he dumped me in a very immature fashion,) I moved to New York City, and am trying to weave my way through the wonderful world of dating. It's not exactly fun, but I have a tendency to get into interesting situations worth sharing...

Now is the time to run around this crazy city and try to find someone that suits my needs; that will listen and understand. Will nurture and care. I'm done feeling guilty, I'm done focusing on the past, and I'm ready to find someone that's ready for me. 

Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky.