Just One Thing

How many questions equal too many? Is it a necessity to answer the who, when, what and why all the time?

The Italian is a great guy. He’s sweet in the opening a door for you kind of way. He’ll pick up the check every time. He’ll let me talk endlessly for an hour and then tell me that he likes listening to me talk. There’s just one thing that drives me nuts. The Italian asks so many questions.

I felt like we were moving into the fast relationship lane, the one place I told him I didn’t want to be. I’ve only been single a month. I want a boyfriend but I know better than to let someone rush me. It seems that I bounce back and forth between the guys that move too fast and the guys that move too slow, OYE! Luckily with me working between New York and Baltimore I’m not around enough to let him get too attached.

Scratch that. Even though we’ve only seen each other once in the past ten days, The Italian is all about us. That wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t being put on the short leash. Where are you? What are you doing? What’s wrong? How are you feeling? Are you okay? Who are you with? What are you guys doing? Are you home yet? Are you home or at the gym? Are you at work still? Oh my sweet lord! Is it too much to ask that I go through one single day without being asked for a play-by-play of what I’m doing?

I know, I know, I’m being crazy. I’m pushing him away because I’m stuck in the same old routine that I’ve always been in. That’s true, but I can’t date someone that drives me nuts. I need a happy medium. I don’t want someone so sweet and attentive, yet I don’t want to date another asshole. I’m looking for a happy middle ground, I know there’s someone like that somewhere in New York.

I had to cut The Italian loose. I feel bad for breaking it off so soon, but it was the nice thing to do. If I feel this way at the beginning, I know that I won’t change. I think it would be a Devil thing to do, stringing him along for months before letting him go. I’d rather hurt him a little now rather than hurt him a lot later. I actually would like him to transition into one of my friends. I don’t know if that’s even an option at this point.

On the up side, we’re both a little better off for having met. I think right now the smartest thing is for me to do the alone thing. I’m just barely getting my personal affairs back in line, maybe it isn’t the time to try and add that part of the equation in.

Web Therapy

It’s taken roughly a month, but I accidentally realized what I learned from my last relationship.


Obviously I was angry, that’s a given. Why was I so angry? That’s the important part. It’s not so much that I was dumped for someone else that bothered me. After all, we had broken up a handful of times before. I was mostly angry at myself. Let me take a few steps back.

Over lunch my friend revealed that in therapy she had a major break through. She realized that she attached herself to dysfunctional people, no wonder we’re friends. Theses people were projects she could work on to avoid dealing with her own problems. This was something everyone around her saw, but she was unable to admit. This got me to thinking. What obvious issues do I overlook that everyone else is seeing? I asked a friend just that. He responded by asking why I was so persistent with relationships when I don’t believe in them.

I’ve always believed that it was pointless to be in a relationship. You always end up being left or leaving. Why put yourself through the heartache? I have walls upon walls built up to keep people out. I swore after my first love that I would never let myself get hurt like that again. However, I do see my pattern of relationships. For example, this last go around, I tied myself to a man that was terrified of commitment and only interested in satisfying his own needs. In my head, that equaled a challenge. Not only did I get this man to date me, but he even said he loved me.

Enter angry me. Actually, hold the angry for a minute. Seven days before I was dumped I received a text message: “You’re my everything.” That one message made me happier than I’ve felt in a long time. Okay, let angry in. Obviously I was a fool. I had allowed myself to love and believe all the things this guy was saying. I was his everything because he was drunk. He only “loved” me because I was there to temporarily fill a void. The real reason that I was angry was because I had allowed myself to believe him. I so desperately wanted to have an actual relationship that I was willing to overlook all of the bad. I let go of the time he took his first I love you back. I tried to ignore how interested he was in every guy that wasn’t me. I even laughed my way around his constant pushing of a threesome.

Through the disaster the last relationship was, I did learn a lesson. I realized that maybe my walls aren’t as thick as I thought. There may even be a small window where people can come to visit. That right there is what was worth all the heartache to learn. I’ve always thought that I was too cold inside to actually feel for another person, but I discovered I was wrong. Even though I loved the wrong person, now I know I have the ability.

Room 2026

On a recent outing with a friend I encountered three very different guys. These guys accurately represent the types that I encounter on a regular basis and often fall for.

Waiting to meet my friend, I stood in his hotel lobby. A man, 45 or so, approached me with a grin. He made small talk: “How are you? Where are you from? What’s your name?” Then he made a comment that caught me off guard, “Long way to travel for a booty call”. I laughed and informed him that I was meeting a friend. He smiled again and let me know his room number for “when I was done”. 

This certainly wasn’t the first time I had been propositioned by a stranger. In fact there have been three previous encounters with guys mistaking me for a hooker over the years. Maybe it’s something about the blonde spot in my hair, or it could be that I attract weirdo guys. Oy vey!

Arriving at the first bar I immediately caught the attention of a guy. He was dressed in a suit, a little much for where we were. I thought he might be straight when I heard him refer to me as “the faggot with blonde hair”. My first instinct was to deck him in the face, but my friend pulled me to the back of the bar. Later when we returned to a place near the suit guy, I caught him staring. “What are you looking at?” He mumbled and told me he wasn’t staring. “Why are you giving me angry eyes?” I received a drunken grin. “Not angry. You’re here with your boyfriend.” I rolled my eyes and informed him I wasn’t with my boyfriend, turning to leave. 

At the second and final bar of my night I had a drink, still very much sober. I danced a little, the place was fairly empty, a rarity. A cute guy shyly approached me. We talked for a bit before I realized how late it was. My friend was heading to the next club, but I had an early meeting.  Leaving as my friend hopped a cab, I walked with Shy Guy to the corner. He lived across the street and invited me back to his place for tea. I was hesitant, more interested in getting home. We talked for a while and eventually I crashed on his bed. It was a totally innocent night, not even a kiss. I didn’t leave him my number, I figure he’ll find me if there’s anything there.

The Perv, The Dick and The Nice Guy. These are the only types I encounter. A year ago I was with Biker Boy, he was an all around nice guy. The problem was that he was needy and I was distant. I’m sure we can all think of whom I’ll name as the dick in this case. However, I’m going to reach way back into the day when I was 18. I was dating Leo the DJ. Leo was a self-absorbed asshole that only thought about /with his dick. Now that I think about it, that isn’t any different from what I just went through, maybe it’s something with DJ’s. I’ve never really dated a perv but I run into them almost every day. From work to play and everywhere in between, guys that think I’m going to drop to my knees for them just crawl out of the woodwork.

The point? I choose the wrong guys. The wrong guys also choose me. There is this innate ability that I have when it comes to attracting the wrong guys. In an effort to save me from myself I’ve been exploring a new corner of the dating market. I’m dating the guys that I would usually shy away from. Thus far The Italian is doing alright. I’m doing my best to not get frustrated with him. We’re very different in the sense that he wants to be romantic and I want nothing to do with any of that mushy crap. For now, I’m just taking him a day at a time, no expectations.

Serendipity

            It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen the ex. How familiar is this? How familiar is that? It’s a new year, meaning I have a fresh slate and entire year to make new mistakes.

We all remember The Devil, I only refer to him as the ex now. I don’t even like the way his name feels in my mouth. Yes, I’m that bitter. I’ve been working down in Baltimore and in my travels come across a person or two that know of the ex. I’ve learned several things about him that I can save for a later date if I chose to exact my revenge. I’m a firm believer in; you screw me over, I’ll screw you over. Fortunately, the ex has had some pleasant misfortune that makes me smile every time I think about it. All I will say is that I got my Christmas miracle.

Now that I have ended a dark chapter in my life, along with what was a daunting year, it’s time for some good. I’ve been on my first date of the New Year: Enter The Italian. Our first date was almost 20-hours long! It started with just a simple dinner in a little restaurant in Chelsea. We ended up talking there for several hours before heading towards Midtown. We went to Serendipity for coffee and dessert. I should mention that I was supposed to go with my friends to the club and I feel bad for blowing them off, but it’s so rare when you go on a date and you’re not counting the minutes until it’s over.

We ended up back at my apartment, nothing happened, just a movie followed by some innocent fooling around. I hadn’t realized how late it was until I noticed the sun was coming up. The Italian and I slept well into the afternoon, getting up only to go out for food again. Bringing our two-day date to an end, The Italian made a confession. He moves too fast. Now we have the drama of my internal turmoil. With the ex all I wanted was for him to move faster, now I’ll want this guy to move slower.  

I informed him that I didn’t want to jump head first into anything; I mean I’m fresh off the dating boat. I have some very strong, very angry, emotions to let go before I can actual have another boyfriend. I have in the past jumped into a relationship immediately following a break up. That proved to be a disaster, resulting in me pushing all of my bad feelings onto the person who didn’t deserve them.

There is hope as far as The Italian is concerned. To know that there is someone out there who can spend almost two full days with me and still say that they like how much I talk… wow.