A glass of Merlot takes it hold…

If I’m being as honest as humanly possible, I would have to admit that I miss the erotic touch from a man that I physically and emotionally crave, or the comfort of coming home to someone who’s as wrapped up in my well-being as I am. Those are things that even the independent woman in me wants, but I’ve been single for so long now that I can’t remember if those things are worth the compromise and sacrifice that a relationship takes.

Here’s my romantic history in brief. From high school up through the months after graduating college, I was a serial serious relationship gal, with the most supreme of relationships resulting in an engagement that never came to fruition. After a few bitter and judgmental years I found Dave. I loved Dave but Dave did not love me back – he barely appreciated me and we stopped having regular sex – so I cheated because I desperately wanted to be desired. The cheating broke me so I ended it, though that turned out to be a strange and sad experience, because in the process I learned that I didn’t want to lose him, but that he was fine with losing me. The whole ordeal again soured me on relationships.

Two years post Dave, I feel like I’ve reached a state of personal relationship zen. Neither am I in search of or opposed to a relationship, I just am. I’m doing my own thing, and I desperately want that to be a professional win for me.

I don’t know why, but every time I’ve been serious about a man I’ve let that relationship dictate way too much about my life. Maybe it’s that realization or some other fucked up flaw, but each man that I’ve become emotionally connected to since Dave has been unavailable in more ways than one.

To say that I wasn’t slightly comforted by these men and their respective off-limits vibe would be a lie. I was extremely conscious of the fact that I could never fully have the type of life-draining relationship with these men that I’ve had in the past. It just wasn’t physically possible. Did I use them for affection or attention? I think it was a mutually beneficial pity party that always ended badly for both parties. One person always begins to care more, and that’s when trouble starts to brew.

So here again I find myself on a Saturday night with no love interest and really no perspectives on the horizon. The peace I have is derived from knowing that I’m not waiting for any calls or trying to decipher the subtext that is man’s way of expressing his interest, I am just me being me.

Two glasses of the previously mentioned Merlot, Jon Foreman’s, The Cure for Pain, is playing, and the air is thick with reflection and solidarity…”So blood is fire pulsing through our veins. We’re either writers or fools behind the reigns. I’ve spent ten years trying to sing it all way, but the water keeps on falling from my tries.”

I just want something that works, but society wants me to settle down, get married, and have babies. Heck at this point I think my parents would gladly settle for a bastard grandchild in lieu of the nothingness that they’ve come to expect. Extended family seem to think it appropriate to always ask about a significant other. There never is one to report.

“It’s not as if New York City burned down to the ground when you drove away…are we breaking up? Did my heart break enough this time?” – Rilo Kiley, Breakin’ Up

It feels good to be free. Unavailable men, ex-fiances, abusers and controllers, they’ve all been eradicated from my life, and this independent woman wants to rejoice in that fact. But why am I still craving the carnivorous lust of a man who can’t stand to be in the same room with me without ripping off my clothes. Sexual frustration? Maybe. Human disposition playing a cruel joke on yours truly? More likely. Quixotic social preconditions influencing my thinking? That sounds right.

Let’s just say I’m one narcissistic creative junkie (remember the wine and music quotes?) who needs an outlet. I’ve chosen writing to be that outlet. Someday I’ll choose love.

Bottle of Merlot finit.

*Photo courtesy of Greg_e on Flickr

Remember this guy? Well he had completely escaped my mind too, until this evening when he called twice.

Why he called, I’m not too sure, though it’s probably safe to assume that his intentions were less than pure. What I do know is that we haven’t spoke in the two years since the last incident. His words were ominous at first, “Jenn, how’s it going? This is pretty awkward for me…,” and even though we didn’t get anywhere near the deed, I was scared shitless. Guys, I beg you, do not start voicemails with the “this is awkward” line.

The message didn’t get much better from there. He trailed off at times, obviously distracted by the dizziness of a drunken call that he knows he’ll regret in the morning. I make stupid decisions all the time, but just because you have the nerve to call someone who repeatedly blew you off, doesn’t mean you should. Don’t humiliate yourself like that. Just don’t do it.

If I come across as rather bitchy and unfeeling, it’s because this was a man who had made his appearance and subsequent disappearance in my life. It’s like the episode of 30 Rock with Steve Martin, a long forgotten chapter in an otherwise great story. Of course the voicemail did best that horrific 30 Rock episode, because quite frankly, I actually laughed when I realized why he was calling.

And in case you didn’t know, booty calls are bad form if a. you’ve never gotten booty before or b. it’s been more than 3 months since the last booty was had. Life moves quickly, and single people move on. Now you know (though I’m pretty sure you didn’t need me to tell you that).

On a side note: Is it completely coincidental that I’ve been ravenously craving updating this blog with juicy tidbits, and the guy who is the subject matter of my most recent post calls me (two years later) to leave me a random voicemail? I call it a sign. So even though I can’t promise daily sauce from my love live — there’s really not a whole lot to report these days — the strong female in me needs this release this right now.

Flickr photo credit: chilene

Lately the same conversation keeps happening…

Man: You’re probably going to blog about this.

Me: I might <wink>.

Man: Just make sure to keep me anonymous.

Me: Of course.

A few weeks later…

Man: I can’t believe you actually blogged about me.

Me: You knew that I had this blog, and I warned you that you might make an appearance. Didn’t I keep your identity private?

Man: Well I really thought that our moments were private.

Me: Our moments are private. For the most part, I strip you out of the content completely and only take the circumstances that I can apply to bigger trends or broader subjects.

Why I Do What I Do

My intentions are never to use the relationships or situations that I find myself in for good content, traffic, or comments. I’m really not that shallow, nor do I think my life to be that interesting. At the very core of my being is a writer, who enjoys the beauty of the written word and the blogging platform as a means to reach a larger audience. I blog for several reasons, but for the most part what you read here is the product of the following:

1. I’m an overly analytical person. I never have just a passing thought, and when it comes to relationships and men, I tend to obsess over every single detail. The easiest way for me to make sense of a situation is to write about it. Blogging helps me release the overwhelming thoughts that eat away at my sanity.
2. When I experience something that I think has implications beyond my immediate situation, I love to extract my moment in time and compare it against the millions of other moments that resemble my own. It’s not that I think I have any more experience or wisdom then the next person, it’s just that if I can find a pattern, I can come to some type or resolution.

I completely understand that most men would rather not turn on their laptop to find a blog entry about their sexual encounters with me. In fact, I usually avoid getting overly personal, and I never reveal anyone’s identity unless they’ve already expressed that they’re comfortable being a subject. What frustrates me to no end, though, is that there are men who seek me out because they appreciate the quality of my writing or the candidness of my blog, and yet these same men want to be excluded from something they know is a huge part of my life.

Is it unreasonable for me to blog about the men in my life? I certainly don’t think so. If anything, if you’re featured in an entry on Content Dynasty, you should take a little satisfaction in knowing that you’ve made a big enough impression on my life and mind that I felt compelled to write about it.

Here’s a minor revelation – I’ve been secretly sharing a bed with a privileged party for a few weeks now, and I’d rather not say who this person is, but let me just iterate that I hope he’s as disconnected to my world as I think he might be (but you never know with Google these days). Back to me. The whole scenario developed unexpectedly. I’m happily single and very flirty with everyone, so when a particular man started paying extra attention to me, I really gave it zero consideration. In fact, I never even noticed him in *that* way. There’s so much more to the story, but suffice it to say we unexpectedly ended up in bed together. No I’m not proud of it, and it certainly wasn’t a defining moment in my life, but it was good and oddly very comfortable.

If you’ve read any of my previous posts, then you probably already know that I’m not the type of girl that has sex just to have sex. I just wasn’t wired that way – the few times I’ve tried to disassociate feelings and do the simply sex thing, the end result was just plain messy. It’s pretty rare these days that I stumble into bed with a relative stranger before setting the sexpectations.

Setting the sexpectations, prior to the act, is the best way for me to let the guy know what he can expect after we start engaging in afternoon delights. I’ll usually lay out the following sexpectations before stripping down:

• Sex with me is complicated.
• I do get emotionally attached.
• I don’t share.
• If you’re going to sleep with someone else, tell me first or stop sleeping with me!
• You can’t be hyper-sensitive to feedback. I communicate what I want and so should you (this includes ways to improve).
• I’ve lived through too many experiences that I’d rather not share, but suffice it to say getting too rough won’t be appreciated.

Okay so now that everyone in the world knows way too much about me, let’s continue…

Here’s the problem. I made the same freakin’ mistake in my personal life that I made in my professional life. I didn’t set the sexpectations prior to the act, and now I’m paying the consequences. Trying to set sexpectations too late is almost as bad as trying to forget the whole thing ever happened.

Example.

The other night I confided in my coital confidant that I’m not interested in being friends who fuck. I was accurately picking up on a vibe that he assumed sex was an added bonus of our friendship (a friendship I’m not even sure really exists yet). Of course I was right. He’s not interested in really getting to know each other, and I was starting to think I could be open to that (but maybe that’s a side effect of good bedding, it makes you want to turn nothing into something to justify your behavior).

There was nothing left to do but to terminate the situation. If life has taught me anything, it has schooled me on the importance of self-preservation. So now I’m out, completely solo once again, and feeling like I violated my own bedroom code-of-conduct. [Said with the inflection of Chandler Bing] Could I be feeling any lower?

I don’t know. What do you guys/gals think? Is there a way to backtrack, after copulation has already occurred, and set sexpectations? Did I back myself into a rookie corner and get what I deserved? Give me some perspective on this.

What I Mean By Casual Sex

Let me make a quick distinction. Casual sex and one night stands are two entirely different concepts. One night stands are self-explanatory, but I understand casual sex to be something a little less wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. In my experiences, casual sex is a state that exists somewhere between a one nighter and the concrete confines of a committed relationship.

Tenets of Casual Sex

• The endings are usually much more humane than real break-ups. Since things were never really that serious to begin with, endings to casual sex situations can be mutually beneficial and even compassionate. Exceptions to this tenet occur when one party wants to make the casual thing a serious thing, and the other party is completely ambivalent.
• The sex is usually pretty darn good. There’s a rhyme and reason for going back for more, and it certainly isn’t the bed linens or the pillow talk.
• There is something that is tangibly missing from the equation, making one or both parties opposed to taking the relationship to the next level.

Same City Run-Ins

At a recent social event in my favorite city, I happened to run into a former casual sex partner. Although there was no perceivable awkward tension (we’ve actually run into each other a few times before), I can’t help but wonder what was going through his head when he saw me. My thoughts we’re pretty simple, minus the last one:

Oh there’s XXXX. I would have never guessed that he would be here.

Hmmm, I think he wants to talk to me. I’m not sure what to say, but I’ll just smile and wave.

Maybe we can co-exist in the same room, with common friends, and not have it be uncomfortable.

I wonder if he’s telling that guy he’s chatting with that we’ve had sex. That would be weird.

This is where I need some help. That last thought sent me on a tail spin of what seemed like logical associations that resulted in my final assumption that everyone at the bar knew about my former fling with XXXX. Men, am I crazy to think this? What’s really going through your head when you see a former fling? Are you sharing all the bedroom details with your male or female cohorts? Are you secretly wishing to hook up again? Tell me everything, I promise I won’t judge you. Your help is appreciated!

–

I firmly assert, without fear of ridicule, that I believe in God and Jesus, thus I consider myself a Christian through faith. But as soon as I use the heavy label “Christian,” criticism gravitates my way. Why? Because like many other single women with similar beliefs, I live what most “Christians” consider a wordly lifestyle: I openly engage in sexual relationships without commitment, let alone a ring on my finger.

It seems that even though every one is prone to sinful behavior, society in general believes that it is reprehensible for someone who proclaims to be religious to engage in behaviors that are not condoned by their respective faiths.

My plight began at the young age of 17 when I had my first serious boyfriend and was subsequently introduced to the seductive and sexy mileu of the secular. Previously a naive and sheltered young Christian girl (I say girl because relatively speaking my sagiousity of worldy matters was rather immature and under developed), my eyes were opened very wide and suddenly I was participating in activities that I had formerly considered grossly devious and lascivious. Fast forward seven years to the present and I’m still caught in the never-ending struggle between being a good Christian woman and enjoying the libidinousness of my body’s seemingly natural cravings.

Many may question my beliefs because of my behavior, but without a doubt I can say that I know the grace that comes from the forgiveness of the Lord. I’ve been down the wrong path, almost to the point of utter oblivion and complete despair. I was at my worst and that’s when I really found my faith…for myself…without influence or pressure from others. And even though I have seen the light in much the same way that Saul did, I still lead a life that some deem to be degrading to my faith and my body. It has taken me years to disassociate guilt from sex, and now that I finally have, I refuse to believe that my one weakness (that at least I have the courage to acknowledge) distracts from the beauty that I have within. Those who really know me have never questioned my sustaining love for the Lord and the goodness and love that I tend to give unconditionally.

I think my tattoo (a cross on my back) stands for everything that is me: sexy, sincere, confident, convicted, and never willing to forget that bleak time in my life without the love of the Lord.

The Rules Have Changed

Back in the day before everyone had cell phones, and men were less savvy to the fake number game (which really wasn’t that long ago), a gal used to be able to assert her interest in a guy by giving him her real number. If she didn’t like the guy she could give a fake and move on. If he (the guy with the real number) called in two to three days he would be eligible for a first date, but if he waited too long she would assume he wasn’t that interested. How simple and easy.

Today the rules have changed in more than a few ways.

Fake numbers aren’t an option. Guys have become savvy to this ploy, so they usually whip out their cell and ask you to input your name and number (which is now their way of getting digits without remembering your name). The new trend seems to be that once the digits are stored, the guy will call the number to confirm that it truly is yours. Two new problems arise.

Problem # 1 – You now have the guy’s number in your cell (good for screening purposes), but in this day and age guys don’t feel like they always have to be the pursuer and occasionally expect this exchange of numbers to result in the girl calling them, possibly creating a no call scenario.

Problem #2 – You’ve given your number to guy you don’t care to see again, simply because you were backed into a corner. He calls. You screen. If you don’t return his call and he’s especially interested, he’ll call again. You screen again. Awkward. Your intention wasn’t to be a bitch, but now you’ve ignored his call twice and that’s exactly what he thinks of you. Any future run-ins will not end well because his ego is bruised (especially if his bros were in tow when he first met you).

I have lots of experience with both problems. Problem #1 because I actually wanted a guy to call, who was expecting me to call him. Problem #2 because I used to frequent the same karaoke and dive bars weekly, making me available to the men that I had unintentionally scorned. Of course #2 can be solved by being honest with the guy, but be careful with that approach too. Some guys can’t take no for an answer.

Tips to Try…

If You Like the Guy

1. Confirm his interest and intentions before you leave. Either mention that you’ll be expecting his call (be flirty and playful, not desperate) so that he knows he is next to act, or feel him out to see if you can get an idea of when he plans to call. You’ll know he’s interested if he’s quick to affirm his intentions, but not so interested if he vaguely gives you some non-committal response like, “I’m really busy this week, but I’ll be in touch.”
2. You like him but you want control of the situation. Don’t give out your number, but take his instead. Tread lightly because this is slightly emasculating and may be a turn off for some guys.
3. This is obvious, but don’t sleep with him. Times have changed, but the same rules still apply when it comes to sex. 95% of guys will lose interest immediately. Strong/intense chemistry (more than just sexual) can sometimes make the rules inapplicable, but don’t count on it.

And If You Don’t

There are respectful ways of declining a man’s advances (make sure not to give out your number), which include…

1. If you’re with a group of girls say, “we’re just having a girls night” and stay firm if he tries to poke away at your excuse.
2. If you’re solo and not worried about his perception of you say, “I’ve recently been through a rough break up, and I’m just not in a good place right now.”
3. If you’re not afraid to offend the guy or bruise his ego you could say, “that’s probably a bad idea, I just don’t think we click,” or, “I was hoping you could introduce me to your friend,” or, “I have my eyes on someone else right now.”

Of course rejection is tough. I’ve been rejected a number of times and I’ve learned not to take it personally, but for some reason I still hate to be the one doing the rejecting. I feel like a bad person, but reality is that if I give out my number I’m leading the guy on and that is much worse (in my opinion).

Got some in-the-field experiences to share? Men, what are your acceptance or rejection techniques? Do share.

More than a few years ago, I was very much of the opinion that going it alone was for the sad and pathetic. Why would I want to subject myself to such scrutiny? A funny thing happened, as my numerical age increased, my alone-in-the-world insecurity decreased, allowing my self-confidence and contentment with life to blossom. I started slowly with a movie, a drink, more frequent and longer coffee house stays, and then I progressed to lunch with a book, magazine, or laptop, ultimately arriving at a place of peace when it comes to dining alone without the security blanket effect of don’t-approach-me-or-pity-me armor.

In the process of unmasking my single woman masquerade, I’ve discovered a few simple truths about why doing dinner and drinks for me can be better than the twofer alternative.

Company Does Not Equal Good Company

Out on the town, I’ve been exposed to diseased duos and contemptuous companions. One particular incident, while I was solo in Manchester, not only endeared me to dining alone, but helped me appreciate the joys of single life. I happened to be eating my Panera staple of chicken noodle soup in a bread bowl, when a fairly hostile voice pierced the silence of the dining room. Granted I couldn’t quite make out the exact words, but a woman was dining with her boyfriend or lover, and after several shrieks, it became clear that he was loving on some other woman. After about 10 minutes of boisterous battling, the man under siege stormed out, leaving the bewildered woman alone with a mouthful of curse words left to spew at the air. How sweet it was to be solo at that particular in moment in time.

Single, Solo, and Approachable

Behind the facade of a confident male, there usually exists a little boy who is still scared of rejection. Question this statement? Just go to any club, restaurant, or bar and look around a bit. Guys aren’t jumping out of there seats to approach women with friends. A gaggle of gals is a potential disaster zone for most men; they’re confronted with cock blocks, chatty cathies, and conversational pressure. Even when a man does risk the rejection, he is more likely to do so when the friends flock to the bathroom or go for a cigarette, leaving the object of their desire invitingly available.

Going out alone has been a blessing in disguise. I’m automatically the most attractive option in the room, because I appear self-confident, secure, and approachable. Another story from my Manchester days tells the tale of a girl (me) desperately wanting to watch the Chargers play the Patriots (while in New England territory) in a social setting. Instead of using the obvious deterrents as a motivation to stay in, I put on my Charger hat and headed to a local bar. Before I had time to walk in the door, I was spotted by a very attractive Charger-clad cutie also braving enemy territory. Conversation initiated instantly and in a few minutes, I had my pick of 5 (2 single) sports enthusiastic males. Although none of the connections panned out, I did make some cool guy friends and I was able to have a good time despite the fact that the Chargers were served a beating (so sad).

Closing Thoughts

You’re entitled to your own opinion, and I’d love for you to share it here, but the next time you judge a solo diner or drinker for their singular ways, remember this blog and reflect on the fact that the pity might best be applied to the person doing the judging.