One-eye requested a story about my lost loves. I’m super busy traveling up north this week for work, so I’m giving it to you a night early. I don’t really have a “THE ONE that got away” story. I have a still trying to figure out what the hell happened to me story, but you’re getting that in bits on Thursdays. When I was younger if I felt at the time of impact that the particular ending of any boy and I made him THE ONE; then time has since delivered the sweet clarity that maturity and changed perspective bring. I was a girl prone to often thinking the guys I thought I loved were all going to be THE ONE. I’ve become well practiced at loving and losing. Landing and learning to get back out there, preferably with some further insight on what not to do next time. I have mentioned before I have to learn lessons the hard way…right?
I may not have a THE ONE, but I do have one, and only one regret boy wise. This boy was the lost opportunity to love, the never to have loved at all. Sliding doors of the universe not aligning because of a bad choice I made. I still remember the last moment I saw him, walking away from me crossing the street late one night in the bar district. I was looking back over my right shoulder and he was wearing a dark colored shirt, he had dark hair. He had just looked at me shook his head a tiny bit and turned around to walk away. I don’t even remember his name but I still remember our story…
I was out in the bar district at about the age of 23. Let me think, this was after my first real heartbreak, it was the spring after Texas went home but before I started dating Mick. I had at least two of my Mu Rho Delta (Men R Dicks) girls with me. I had driven, and we had been on tour of the bars and dancing. This is the same summer we are getting into bars for free and without waiting in line b/c I am fucking I mean dating The Bouncer. Walk right up to the front of your line with your girlfriends. Look him sweetly in the eyes and say “Hey”. He looks back says how many with you tonight and swoosh, everybody in. That’s right, he remembers the hot tub. The other girls in line do not like this, I’m long past caring.
I’m long past caring b/c this is the 2nd or 3rd club of the night. We always start out at Bar 1, because it’s $1 you call its until 10PM. We always stay till after 10PM. Then we move to BAR 2 to dance and drink more, usually a combo of shots with a drink. Purple Hooters and Jack and Diet Coke days for Lola lovies. The Bouncer worked at either Bar 2 or Bar 3. They were all owned then by the same guy and he rotated. At some point in time we end up back at Bar 1. I don’t know if we had previously met the guys in the group my guy came from and had been hanging out with them or if they just walked by at the right moment. All I know is I was outside sitting on the curb, probably in a skirt, and had my head between my legs because I DID NOT feel well. You know how every group of friends has the Tucker Max one? The one that just gets as drunk as she wants and does whatever she wants. The ditch your friends for a dude girl? That was often, but not always, me. I’m not proud of some of the choices I made in bars in that time period, but they sure led to some adventures. I haven’t had that many one night stands ( college doesn’t count right??) and of the ones I’ve had I’ve never woken up anywhere strange or not remembered where I was supposed to be or who I was supposed to be with. I’m sitting on the curb trying not to puke, I didn’t puke often, and he comes up beside me. As I remember he volunteered to drive me home in my car to my apartment. My friends discuss this with him and agree I am going to be safe and away we go.
The ride home is uneventful and only about 15 minutes. We arrive at my apartment. Now here is a guy, about 5’10” tops, dark haired, blue eyed and acting like a gentleman. He did not even try anything when we get home. I get him set up on the couch with a blanket and I proceed to strip down to my underwear and pass out in my bed. I am not the least bit worried about him hurting me.
I wake up in the morning and start to turn over and I’m NOT ALONE in bed. I jump and scream. I’m looking at him holding the sheet up to me and my scream wakes him up. I KNOW we didn’t have sex b/c I’m still wearing panties and I have no recollection of doing so. He quickly explains that my kitten wouldn’t leave him alone on the couch and out of desperation he climbed into bed next to me. He is still in his t-shirt and boxers so I calm down and lie down next to him so we are facing each other. We talk for a little bit, make out some but nothing heavy and go back to sleep. After we wake up we get dressed and I drive him back to his house in the bar district. He doesn’t seem to be that into me in spite of the make-out session earlier. He hesitates before getting out of the car, but no one asks for anybody’s number. Now for a guy to take me home, not try to fuck me, and then not ask for my number after making out. Just doesn’t happen. He REALLY bailed me out of a situation that night. He rescued me from the side of that curb and got me home safely, then didn’t try to take advantage in return.
A few weeks or months later we are back at Bar 1 and he’s there. I walk right past him and do a double take. I walk right up to him and say “You look just like the guy that rescued me a few weeks/months ago from that curb outside” It’s him. “You were so nice I tell him, you took me home and kept me safe and you didn’t even try anything.” We start dancing and hanging out. I’m super excited because he is even cuter than I remembered. He’s not my favorite type, but I’m into him. We hang out this way most of the night and he comes with me and my friends to other bars that night. Then it gets to be close to going to get something to eat while drunk time and we spill out onto the street and head to the burrito place.
On the street, on the way we encounter an ex of mine. Big Balls. Big Balls and I had lots of sex for a while, then got too close and he got too scared and pulled away. He will go on to later tell me I am his THE ONE, but by that time it will be too late and I will no longer have any trust in his ability to be emotionally available to me. On this night though, I am mad at Big Balls. I am walking up to him, I pull ahead actually when I see him, leaving the boy and the friends to catch up. We begin to have words, in the middle of this stupid stupid fight I notice something. The boy has gotten a look of hurt and recognition on his face. He knows this is an ex and he feels like I ditched him to talk to the ex, because I did. He looks at me, shakes his head and starts to walk away. I’m torn but the damage is done and I am angry at Big Balls still so I choose to finish our short talk on the street. In the end they have both walked away and I go with my friends to get that burrito.
I regret that move. I will always wonder a tiny bit what could of been with my guy and I. The lost opportunity to love, to never know is somewhat sad when there is perceived potential. I know sometimes in a new relationship you have to play what if, either in your head or together, but even that can be a very dangerous game. You truly have no idea how you will handle any given situation until you get right there in it. You cannot pre-plan and account for every hurt , every bad thing that might happen if you take the plunge. You can only choose to love and accept it may come with loss, or choose to sit out and never know. I’ll never know b/c I chose to play what if on the street with Big Balls that day. The potential for me to gain return on my investment caused me to make a choice. And now, I’ll never know what could of been…. Big Balls was more important to me that night than my guy, and I am where I am because of it.
I really do believe that we are where we are in our lives for a reason. Sure there are things we may harbor true remorse for choosing to do, but playing the what if I had done and I regret making this and such choice game are nothing more than an endless mind fuck you deliver to yourself. You are where you are in THIS moment in time because of where you have been. The grass is not greener on the other side, if it is it’s only going to be that way for a while, then it will just be the same grass you have now but with a new guy. I know with our internet social age we get thrust into the opportunity to play this game more and more often. Mind fucking yourself is wasted time and energy. If there is something you truly wish to change or repair then put on your BGP and seek to repair or or change it, but please don’t play the what if game. Instead play the do, live, let it be, breathe game.
This series is published once a week on Thursday’s.
Oh Craig’s List, the cesspool of easy hooking up and dick pics right next to selling your daughter’s Barbie Jamming Jeep. Multi-tasking for naughty/bored mommies. I had no idea what to expect and I’m a project manager by trade. So of course I did what any good PM would do. I did some project planning and analysis prior to pulling the trigger on execution. Where there any suitable options with ads already posted? Umm, NO. Actually most of them went like this…”Fat , old, creepy, smelly dude with no job wants submissive woman to blow me whenever I like and expect nothing in return” or “age/sex/height/weight/teeth/no matter, if you have a Va-JJ I’d like to hit it” Can you say HERPES!!! I’m horny but herpes is forever. I’m really not trying to slam on CL, but it is rightly so one of the skankiest levels of sexy-time seeking on the internet. You KNOW what you’re getting into when you go there. So don’t go there lovies. Well clearly the caliber of FWB I was looking for was not posting an ad , perhaps I’d need to write an ad. Thank goodness I had read all those fine ads full of romance and sexual decorum and had been able to ascertain the basic gist of how this all appears to go down. I am a girl and there fore EVERY email I get in response will be from a boy and not a bot. This whole process moves from “hey you know what we should do right now..we should put an ad on CL for FWB, that sounds like a solid plan”. To “submit” in less than it took Peyton Manning to kick someone’s ass that night. Less than two hours from “huh to heyyyy”. Can you say impulsive? I had just entered into full on Project Mode. I love a good satisfying project, if I don’t have one in my life at all times I have search them out. Even if it’s a bad idea, if my mind is set to it I am seeing it through and only I can stop me. How easy it is to put it down or learn the lesson the hard way is dependent on the prize at the end. And I prize love over everything else…even in spite and because of this journey. But right then lust was driving the crazy train to sexy town.
I put up a wordy ad listing all the basic “rules” and set up a fake email account to start managing all of this. You know, because I have tons of time in my already stressed life to take on the FWB project. And then the responses start to come. That ad was up on CL for no more than an hour, on a Sunday night, at like 9:30 PM. It kept getting flagged b/c I said I hated Tom Brady, stupid Patriots Fans trolling on CL. And reason, guilt, anxiety finally kicked in at some point and I just left it down. That one hour generated over 50 responses from dudes looking to hook up. In addition to the standard barrage of creeps, guys looking for submissive women (move along douche-bags, #Imnotthatgirl) and weirdos there was:
- The 50 year old wife looking for a FWB for her 35 year old husband. He was aware she was doing this for him and had been looking at various ads and sending the hubby pics etc of ones she thought would be ok. I mention this one because later when I was convinced I wanted to be with PJ, who was 25 to my 39, I thought of this couple. I am all for whatever works for your marriage, but this one made me a little sad.
- The professional job married dude who had a steady FWB for 4 years, but she was moving and he needed a new one. He had ALL KINDS of advice about how to conduct myself and not get caught. Which he was only to happy to continue sharing with me even after he sent a face pic and I wasn’t interested. This one made me sad for the wife. I didn’t want a FWB who was married. Ironic I know, but I was OK taking the risk of ruining my own marriage but didn’t want that to spill into someone else’s.
Over HALF of these responses are from dudes in their 20’s. This is the first time I learn that women my age are like CRACK to boys in their 20’s and early 30’s. This theme would repeat itself over and over again. If I was single today I could still get more 25 year old dick that I ever could at 25. And I did not have issues getting laid at 25. Who knew all the guys my age when I was in my 20’s were actually foaming over the “older” women at the bars we would always look down on because we were younger, still thin and cute ? Go figure. And BTW younger girls, DO NOT discount these Women. I have been on both sides of your perspective and I am here to inform you that you are not even yet half the woman you will grow to be if you can keep even half your shit together. So start working on loving yourself; until you do you won’t ever get to enjoy what I have now. And I want that for you. 40 is fabulous isn’t just something older women tell themselves to feel better lovies. 40 REALLY IS FABULOUS. Also, plenty of dudes like girls with padding like mine and I was 20+ pounds heavier back then. The right attitude complements any size body.
Managing these responses and having these conversations takes time, and lots of emotional energy. I was at the start of becoming very focused on solving my “problem”, of getting what I wanted and fixing/filling that something missing, unsettled feeling. The attention itself was somewhat satisfying, and it was “fun” to be so sought after and to have so many choices, even if they were all bad ones they were still choices. I’m getting all caught up in this and then I get caught four days in. The Husband decided to check the internet browser because I was acting weird. The one I didn’t hide because he trusts me so much. I cannot find proper words tell you how horrible it feels to be laying next to the man you love literally being able to feel the hatred and hurt seething from his every pore. We would later go on to get used to hurting each other but this was opening the wound. Thank God I am at least self aware and manage to choke out through many sobs and tears what I think my issue is and what it was I thought I wanted. Just new dick once or maybe every once in a while, it was just about the excitement and lust. I needed more sex than I was getting. Thank God he didn’t leave…yet.
Over the next few weeks we openly discuss everything under the sun that is both inside and outside traditional sexual roles and activities in a marriage. Some of them we agree we don’t want to or can’t do, some of them we argue/negotiate over for several weeks because I want to at least try them and he signed up for just the two of us and isn’t interested in changing that. We discuss going to a marriage counselor but The Husband dislikes and distrusts therapists, he at this point still think he has no issues from childhood of any kind. So we don’t go yet.
Instead he had an idea we both wish he hadn’t to this day. That idea was to go to Reddit’s /r/gonewild. This site is NOT SAFE FOR WORK NSFW.
More to come next Thursday.