The Summer Fling Turning Point

So this morning I’m waiting for an appraiser to come and assign a value to my apartment.  Depending on what he says, I will be able to then refinance to a loan with drastically lower payments.  This will allow me to either get a car or rent this fucker out so I can drag my ass out of exile. FINALLY.  But it is not at all a sure thing.

While we wait I will continue the saga of the summer romance that never wasn’t.  Ok, I’m at karaoke getting royally toasted with some friends.  Side note, this chick at the karaoke put on a song she wasn’t sure how to sing, so I bravely waded in with a mic to help her out…but I was so unsure that I made a few comments between choruses to the effect of “Wow, I’m not sure of the words here.”  She wasn’t singing at all by this time but took the opportunity to literally tell me to stop if I couldn’t take it seriously.  No on tells someone who’s nervous about singing to STOP.  Major breach of karaoke etiquette and it damn near ruined my fun.  Let that be a lesson to us all.

Ok.  I get a text from the summer fling that she really wants to hang out later and is that possible… And because I REALLY like hanging out with this girl I say yes.  This, by the way is the perfect opportunity to explain that this summer I chose on several occasions to ditch plans with friends in favor of spending secret time with the girl.  Of course almost every one of those occasions ended in her going home early or heading to some other engagement after an hour.  Which meant that I was left having tossed out a chance to solidify friendships for the meager crumbs of her time she was willing to give me.  She never did the same to see me.  Which saying it out loud now after the fact makes things fairly clear.  Isn’t hindsight amazing?

Blah blah, she gets dolled up and meets me and the birthday party friends at the rooftop bar of the Koreatown La Quinta.  She was stunning.  And friendly.  And I was WAAAAASTED but pulling it off.  I wish I could remember more about that conversation, but the important bit I took away was this:  She said something to the effect of, “At some point in the future I think we could have a great relationship.”  Have I mentioned that she had, over the course of this thing, done a LOT of that sort of thing?  There was the time she got royally jealous of me talking to other girls at a company party.  There was the nuzzling into my neck on a park bench before work.  ETC ETC.  So then she goes, “Lets go get something to eat!”

This was a big shock for me and a delightful surprise.  She had prefaced the night with the usual “I can only stay out for about 40 minutes” bullshit, but now she wanted to go get a late dinner with me.  Joy and sunshine things are turning around!  So we exit the bar, I apologize to the friends, and hit the street.  The street which is deserted.  Koreatown dies after a certain point, but never fear, this is Manhattan after all, so I begin to walk us toward Broadway saying something about the Odeon or something.  She stops me and says “Well I guess I’ll just go home now.”

Fuck.  Really.  A cab stops and I put her in, then decide to get in too.  I’m still not sure why I got in, but I was mad and upset.  She tells the cab driver where to go and reminds me I can’t come over to her place, to which I responded that I knew, I just wanted to get to the same neighborhood to hook back up with the birthday friends (they were heading down there too).  The rest of the cab ride I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her or look at her.  I was clearrrrrrly upset and she tried to ask me why, etc.  Her response was that I had known she needed to head home early so what was the problem?  Well, no shit… but that was BEFORE the conversation about ending up together and the “I’m dying to eat let’s go” bullshit!!!

Anyway, my getting mad in that cab was the end of us, in effect.  We saw each other one-on-one a few more times alone, but never did anything physical.  She moved into a new apartment and I came over, but by then something had seriously shifted.  She carried herself as though she was afraid one false move would send me immediately and irrevocably into lovetown.  Which is to say she was mildly cold and distant.  I got on better with her roommate.  Unfortunately she has been unable to really talk about it to this day.  Beyond the one phrase I will never forget which she said on our last date, “I wanted to be able to just get dirty and fuck around with you, but that can never happen now.”

Thanks, bitch.  Thanks.  I really appreciate that.

The Summer Fling Part 2

So this thing (see the last entry if you’re confused) has had me all torn up and shiz inside, so I mentioned yesterday’s torturous phone call to my shrink this morning.   She very successfully urged me to give thinking about this chick a break for a while.  I somehow managed to carry that into the day and ended up having a fairly positive workday.  But now I’m home and it’s story time.

So, actually…  I don’t know if I’m up to a full continuation of the saga.  Let me endeavor to summarize in a way that is both thorough and brief while managing to entertain at least a little…  or maybe I’ll just go to sleep even EARLIER tonight.



Ok that’s actually what I did… ok not really.  I got instant messaged on okcupid and sucked into a polite conversation about nothing in particular.

Here’s the continuation:  The immediate events following our intense make-out session are hazy to me.  But eventually she came to my super far from everything neighborhood and we eventually had sex.  And then we had a ton of sex.  And then we had sex at her apartment which set off a cascade of guilt behavior in her because HER ex hadn’t officially moved out yet (he was out of the state at the time though and we got nowhere near the bed…which seems to make it hotter somehow? whatevs).  We shared more secrets and grew closer.

Eventually her life began to fill with other engagements.  She had a wedding to attend out of state with a gaggle of friends who she shared with the ex who was also there.  She never un-relationshipped him on facebook.  She began to be busy every night.  But she made time to hang out with me BEFORE her dinner plans, etc., every now and then.  So I had to make do with 45 minutes here, and a quick 20 minutes before work there.  By now we were only talking and hugging and holding hands.  I invited her to a few things, most of which she passed on.  A few times she accepted my invitations and we had a lot of fun together… But I started to get frustrated by the restricted visitation schedule.  I mean what the hell, I’m supposed to be ok with crumbs after I’ve tasted the meal?  Gross analogy, I know, but I mean it in a whole package sense.

From the beginning she would stop in the middle of nuzzling to tell me that she wasn’t ready for anything serious and make some other noises that indicated to me she was not in the market for a relationship that would be long-term.  To be honest with “you,” I don’t think she ever really expressed how she thought shit should work out between us, but after her unavailability began to clearly upset me, she fell back on “I was very clear about what I wanted from the beginning.”  Which to me implied that she had decided to have zero emotional attachment to our relationship.  Which of course I intellectually agreed with, but seriously… come ON.

At this point in the retelling I’m beginning to feel really sorry for this girl.  That of course was not my intention when I set out to get it all out here.  But honestly, the only adult relationship she had for her entire adult life is over after 7 years.  What the fuck did I think I was doing?  I mean holy fucking hell.  And she seemed to be asking me for a “friends with benefits” situation.  The only problem was that the benefits part was rapidly drying up.  And so was the friends part, as far as I was concerned.  No one likes to be sidelined in early relationship forming stages, even if it’s just as friends.  And I was being sidelined.  And getting upset ( as I mentioned).  Everything came to a head one night I’ll never forget (ok, I will probably forget it within 2 years).  It was my friend’s birthday, and his wife had rented a karaoke room to have a suuuuper sweet party with a few friends.  The girl had mentioned being able to hang out, but only for a half hour, to which I was proudly able to reply that I wasn’t actually able to see her at all, as I had friends and plans too thank you very much.  But things changed.

I’ve got a serious itch to cut to the ending, but this unexpected turn in my feelings is promising.  I think I’ll do the longer version and continue the story in part 3.

The Summer Fling Part 1

Ok, y’all get ready for some seriously long and whiney shit.  Summer fling 2011 all came crumbling down today.  First things first, a song to get you in the mood:

Listen to that while we continue.  This is going to be the story of my summer’s interoffice romance gone wrong.  It’s been a seriously heavy source of pain and angst for me CONTINUOUSLY since June and it’s either entered a new, higher level of painful shit eating, or it’s about to finally terminate forever.  I don’t know where to start and I don’t want to leave anything out, but I’m not perfect, so here goes.

We have a sister company that does a certain part of the work we do on every project.  We’re in direct contact with them every day, and the bosses/owners are best friends and all that shit.  Ok, a “really hot” girl works at this place.  The quotes are to indicate that all the dudes in the office and the peripheral dudes that come in and out as producers or what-not have major hard-ons for this girl.  At one point she had a boyfriend.  At the same point I had a girlfriend.  We both ceased having significant others at the same time.  Her story is fairly interesting, but I’m not so sure it’s relevant to this catharsis. We both had to live with out exes for a while post-breakup.

Her company had a party one night and I went, along with all of my coworkers.  I think she and I had begun to ichat a little more intensely than regular work colleagues would up to this point, too.  There had been flirting.  But I was more or less ignored by her at this party, which was fine because I was chatted up by a very cute half black half korean girl, who i subsequently never called.  I wasn’t ready to date yet.  Ok, so the party winds down and the bosses start talking about heading to a strip club.  They also invite her to come.  I think it’s all a big joke but it’s totally not.  Totally and completely not a joke.  When she arrives at the club we’re already a few drinks in and a few dollars poorer.  Coming back from the bathroom at one point I see the girl putting a dollar in a stripper’s g-string and getting groped with a smile on her face.  Major turn on, and extremely unexpected, like I had walked in on something I wasn’t intended to see.  She and I talk for a while and she tells me about the terrible fight she’s just had with her ex and how she’s going to have to sleep at work.  I tell her she can crash at my place because MY ex is out of town at the moment and there’s an air mattress.  One of the clients who happens to be best friends buddy buddy with her overhears and takes note.  He’s married but doesn’t wear his ring.  He also takes the office ladies out drinking regularly without wifey.

Anyway she refuses, etc, etc.  But somehow over the next few days she lets me know that she had actually been very into our conversation, and that she would want to get a drink.  This is where the retelling starts to hurt a little, and I think I can stop with the robotic announcement of the story’s bullet points now.  So I’m pretty sure she’d gotten my phone number by now and she’s making noises about how forward she’s been in telling me she wants to go out for drinks.  And at this point I’m genuinely getting the impression that she’s fairly old fashioned – slash – inexperienced.  She had been with this boyfriend 7 years, since the tender age of maybe 19.  This put her firmly in 26 and in my mind as a sort of quasi virgin with weak emotional defenses and little experience in the bedroom.  Someone to be gentle with and protective of.  WOW, was that the wrong impression to have formed.  In fact at one point further on she would emphasize that there had been an understanding in her relationship that when he went on tour (in a band, of course), he would do what he wanted and so would she.  Rest assured, she told me, she’s had much experience.  Hmm. That was a red flag I failed to take seriously, now wasn’t it?

Ok, so we continue our internet chatting during work hours that lasts all day, and I’m having a good time.  Meanwhile my ex had returned “home” and was getting ready to move out for good.  Very sad shit.  So the weekend in which she is to move out arrives and everything’s shitty with us.  I kept hoping to be able to have a lovely closure thing happen, and instead we kept spoiling it, and she’s sleeping on her couch and being super excited about leaving.  This is the end of May.  Wow.  wow.  On saturday the girl invites me to come to some event she’s going to be at that’s much closer to my place than her apartment.  I’m excited, but she says she’s there with her boss, and after I look it up I see it’s also got a cover and is fairly stupid, so I do the social equivalent of just putting the tip in: I tell her I’m going to be at a bar near there and welcome her to a drink if she leaves the event early.

She does leave the event.  She does come to my bar for a drink. We do end up making out, and she does grab my cock through my pants outside the bar and breathlessly ask me to come home with her.  It’s the day before my ex moves out.  I tell her that i can’t, and I explain why and she understands.  But of course we make out a while longer and she asks a few more times.  It’s interesting to find yourself in this type of moment as an aged and wizened adult of 34 (35th birthday came soon after).  I remember doing the math in my head.  It involved consciously balancing the sure thing of the moment with the wrongness of not coming home the night before the ex moves out of my life for good.  I knew that either choice (go with girl or go home) was a mistake.  In fact I’ve found myself more and more in situations where I’m forced to make a choice between two shitty outcomes.  I’d like to be able to pick a good one every now and then.

I returned home to a shitty and sad night, sure that I had been forced to forever miss the opportunity of sleeping with the girl.  I also felt pretty great about doing the good guy thing, despite my disappointment.  It would be the last time for a long time that I would make the right choice in this budding romance.  I’ll continue this story tomorrow.  Teaser: today, 5 months later, she yelled at me and hung up in my face, blaming me for everything that has gone wrong between us while simultaneously denying that anything had gone wrong AND that there was an “us” to begin with.  Lovely.

Taxi Wisdom

So I went to Milan and Florence last week.  Now I’m in one of those periods we sometimes find ourselves in when our environment shifts heavily away from our usual routine and then back, and our point of view stays shifted.  I went on for about 3 hours yesterday with my producer about this rare sense of possibility and personal freedom that’s suddenly overtaken me.  I expressed my tendency to squander it and my desire to not do so this time.  I mentioned this blog, I mentioned my Italian friends new and old, I dreamed ambitious dreams while he responded with some very wise words in a similar vein.  But last night I sat down to write this as a springboard for taking active charge of my creative destiny and my brain went CLOMP.  Deadened like a pillow case full of wet socks.

I was going to start a series of little stories about my conversations with taxi drivers.  It was going to be funny and surprisingly interesting, but I just couldn’t make the blood in my head move.  Congealed neurons and flagging spirits conspired to render me speechless and this blog entry textless.  But lo’ did I wake and get dressed only to find I had done so an hour too early, and verily did I take it upon myself to squeeze out a few words here so I wouldn’t be too bitter about last night today.

And it was so.  But now this thing isn’t about anything.  Here’s the groundwork then:  Taxi drivers and I have fairly deep conversations.  They tell me stories about their lives and give me advice (mostly in the field of romance).  Lately the subject of masculinity and femininity has taken center stage… and I’ve been framing some of my current and late relationship problems in terms of the taxi driver’s stance just to see where that gets me.  It gets me scared.  Ok not really.  Curious to know what taxi drivers think about man-woman relationships?  Yeah well I’ve already written too much about nothing to spill a bunch of something here at the end.  Come back later and I’ll have some really good stories to share.  These guys have some surprisingly refined views of modern relationship problems.

Oh, and about the usefulness of eating pussy.