Always happy to avoid conversation

On Thursday, the guy I’d been dating texted to ask if I had time to hang out this weekend. I said I did, but we didn’t make actual plans, and I haven’t heard from him yet.

So I think he was right in saying “we want different things.” I want to be ACTUAL friends with benefits, not the “beck and call girl” of a dude who forgets about me until his dick gets bored.

At least this means we don’t have to get together to discuss the terms of our fuck-buddy-ship — we’re Facebook friends and that’s it. No travel, no feelings, no shaving!

I’m not actually too hurt by this. It’s nice to be sure of something I’d mostly already decided.

I have achieved Peak Maturity.

I should’ve moved faster with the two OkCupid guys I’ve been messaging with, so when Dude I’d Been Dating got back from vacation and texted to see if I can hang out this weekend, my response could’ve been, “Oh! You’re still here? Sorry, no, I have two dates this weekend.”

Kidding. Mostly. It’ll be good to have that talk. Fine. FINE!

I also think we should have sex one more time BEFORE we talk, because I have a vivid masturbation fantasy that takes place on his couch and I’d like to see how that pans out in reality, but we’ll see what happens.

“You got a WHAT? How long ya had that problem?”

Update on Dude I’d Been Dating: He texted me Sunday to give me back his phone number, and has texted here and there since with everyday minutia, stuff so mundane I feel like he’s just worried I’ll be mad if he doesn’t say SOMETHING.

He re-added me on Facebook (he’s on my “family” filter now, though, so all he sees are sunset photos and dog videos), but not on Instagram, and we were never connected on Twitter.

So I guess we’re friends, with nudity TBD, but I think I’m OK with friends, at least for now. I’m glad we’re talking because that means he didn’t just fuck me and bail. But now I know he can and will just shut down on me, and maybe he’s only talking to me because sex is possible, so I need to get those thoughts in order.

We don’t have plans to see each other, and I’m damn sure not bringing it up, so it won’t be a real issue until he does. (He’s away on a family trip right now.)

In the meantime, I have TWO OkCupid Potentials to write back, so “I’m not waitin’, because I’m no waiter, so when I blow up, don’t try to kick it to me later.”

(^ I…I am so sorry, you guys…)

This could be the beginning of a beautiful fuck-friendship.

This amuses me more than it should…

Dude wrote me back within 24 hours this time, accepting my offer of “naked or otherwise” friendship, because duh. (“We’ll have to have a discussion next time we hang out.” Mm hmm, ‘kay…)

But because I’d deleted him from Facebook, my phone displayed his message once, then sent it to some “other messages” Facebook purgatory that, as far as I know, I can only access on a computer, and…fuck it, I’ve had a long week, and starting up a laptop AND a browser feels like a lot of effort for a dude tryna tell me I’m clingy.

Talk Monday, shitheel.

^^^ This should all end well, right…?

Maybe I can downgrade to a Stage 4 Clinger…

Therapist: “So, this thing where you’re calling yourself stupid, and clingy, and crazy where’s that coming from?”

Me: “I don’t know, I feel like I was pressuring him. He has anxiety and depression, too, and I know how that feels, to have someone demanding your time, another THING you have to keep up with. Honestly, I’m kinda psyched to have Sundays to myself again, so I get where he’s coming from.”

Therapist: “OK, I get that. But from everything you’ve told me  and obviously I’m your Person, so I’m biased  this sounds like it’s him, not you. Basically the only thing you asked him for was more sex. Maybe you could’ve been more direct about saying it, but that doesn’t make it clingy, or crazy, or stupid. Putting aside the sexual component, if you had a friend and communication with them dropped off like it did here, would you be concerned and check in with them?”

Me: “Yes.”

Therapist: “That’s not crazy. It’s caring about a human being.”

I LOVE paying people to tell me I’m right.

She told me it was fine to send him an email I’ve written offering a friendship, but the longer I don’t hear from him after the last message I sent, the less interest I have in that idea. I’m not that bad at taking a hint.

A watched iPhone never beeps with a text that saves your faith in humanity.

Having given this some thought, and having STILL not heard from this guy…

I had sex with a person I liked, and who, at the time, I honestly thought liked me. Not LOVED me, not falling for me, but like…we could be friends.

THEN he started fading away. We haven’t had sex since.

So, that’s not this guy keeping me around to get his dick wet, not any reason for me to feel slutty. That’s a relationship that started, was fine for a few weeks, then…ended? I guess? It’d be SUPER great to be sure of that. I don’t think I’ll be convinced until we get to the weekend and he’s still radio silent. (We had tentative plans.)

I WILL actually be hurt if he just ghosted. Not BADLY, but I slept with him because I thought we were at least THAT cool. Like, hey, I swallowed your semen — show some goddamn respect.

But I can handle “ghosting;” I’ve been on the other side of that. Nice person, fine in bed, but just not for me, but I’m a little bitch who can’t just say that, hence the fadeaway.*

That helps.

*For the record, though, it DOES feel shitty and I’ve tried to learn to be a goddamn grownup and tell people. It sucks, but it’s not THAT bad. Tell people. Don’t be a dick.

The Girls’ Guide to Emotional Fort Building

Ah, yes. A key decision in any “relationship” — do I end it now while I’m pretty sure I can handle it, or let it ride until it crashes and burns in the most damaging possible way?

Pfft. JK, it’s not actually a question. Y’all know I’ll suffer for a good story — let’s dance, Feelings!

Kidding. The beauty of having played the He’s Just Not That Into You home game for 2 years a while back is that I can see it easily now. Plus ending the 10-year relationship right before THAT… I mean, it can’t hurt TOO much if this one ends. “We’re done? Oh, OK, cool. I’ll have more time to clean.”

But it turns out the “slut shame” doesn’t come from the sex. It comes from sex being all there is — from me not being feelings-worthy for whatever reason, from being kept around solely for my ability to wet a dick.

I’m not built for that. I don’t need Edward Lewis, but I damn sure ain’t settlin’ for Stuckey. 

I acknowledge the possibility that I’m hormonal and misinterpreting, but I think I’m right. If I can’t tell that you, um, like me, or want to spend time with me, that is legit insane-making for my membranes.

I deleted (not blocked) his number, and, with it, my ability to text him anything belligerent and cunty. He’s still free to contact me, though, so we’ll see what happens.

Hm… Though I guess I probably should’ve seen what happened before I spent the weekend getting myself over this based on these assumptions… Oops. Ah, well. Call it preventive care.