Vol. 2, Post #83 What a snooze!

This post might make you vomit. I sorta threw up while writing it. Sex tips for girls* (*girls who are holding on to mid-life by a thread). A dating odyssey for Young Olds, (people with readers).

If you are the kind of Young Old who prides themselves on acting with dignity, self respect, and measured curiosity at all times, who rarely overthinks another person’s actions, and is almost always able to remind themselves that what someone else does is no reflection of your self-worth or value, then go on and skip on over this post. It’s not for you.

However, if you (like me) are someone who occasionally finds themselves behaving in a manner that mirrors a high schooler, slipping into what I would call among the most irrational and infuriating thinking, particularly as it pertains to someone you like or would like to date, this is your lucky day! Pull up a chair. Wait till I tell you what I did last week.

I’m not remotely proud of this, but there’s no point in keeping it to myself, since we’ve covered pretty much every topic under the sun regarding mid-life dating and sex (did we talk about the time that I farted in my partner’s mouth when he was eating my ass, and then we both laughed before he told me “You are so fucking sexy” and started in again? Well, now we have).

So, back to last week. It’s about this guy…

He’s a man with whom I connected a few months back. The connection started out the way that many random connects do. We met in a shop and exchanged a few friendly flirty volleys back and forth and a ton of smiles (I am sure I was blushing — which I really only do when I’m flirting with someone. When I told you about farting before? No blushing there. That’s just…life).

As I walked away, I found myself catching my breath and saying to myself, “Wow, what was THAT?” because it was the first time that I had met someone in a few years who really got my pulse racing. I’ve most certainly met my share of captivating men (the random meet up with my former BF was similar to this, but while I interested in my now ex, I wasn’t COMPELLED by the energy between us the way I was with this man. This felt more…primal?) but it’s rare that I immediately start thinking about getting naked with someone. I felt this deeply, along with the idea that he was familiar to me in a way that I knew would be an erupting volcano of mutual passion if we ever got together. It just felt like…whooooaaa. I drove home thinking about ways to reach out to him, aside from us finding each other on social media. I realized that I actually had a genuine reason (um, ok, an excuse) to reach out, so I did, via his work email, which I had. He answered promptly and we started emailing for a bit until I upped the ante.

All women — I mean, all people, right? — know precisely what to do when they sense someone is interested in them, a move that gives the other person permission to approach more closely, so after a few emails back and forth, I made that move*. It worked. We were soon messaging on our private social media accounts and I noted that he was watching my IG stories and “liking” most of my vacation photos, particularly any selfies and particularly selfies in which I was wearing a bathing suit or whatever.

*Of course I’m not going to tell you what my move is, but if I ever try it out on you, you’ll know.

I’M STOPPING FOR A MINUTE BECAUSE I AM GETTING UTTERLY NAUSEATED BY WHAT I’VE DESCRIBED ABOVE AS COMPLETELY CHILDISH BEHAVIOR — AND I HAVEN’T EVEN GOTTEN TO THE PART THAT I’M TRULY EMBARRASSED ABOUT YET!

Finally, the conversation, which had been based on flirting by way of food, travel, more food, cooking, downtime from work, MORE food, turned to what I’ll call The Big Reveal. I’m summarizing our conversation. Here’s what was said (he’s in italics).

“I have to ask, because you speak in only ‘I.’ Do you have a wife or a girlfriend? You and I clearly have a vibe and I’m flirting with you, so…enlighten me?”

“I have been seeing someone for a while but it doesn’t work. It’s never really worked. I’m completely starved for affection and the rest of it. I’ve been thinking about how I need to look at the next chapters of my life with regard to pleasure and better connection, but she and I are linked by the work we both do, so it’s a challenge. And yeah, I’m flirting with you too. When we met, I hoped you would flirt with me. I guess I’m just dreading being known as ‘a bad guy’ if and when I end things.”

“OK, I’m sure you understand that this is where this whole thing needs to stop, right? I can’t get involved with someone who’s not available.”

“Yes, I understand and I’d never cross that line. I want to be respectful, so I’m showing restraint until I don’t have to anymore.”

And that’s where it’s stayed. It felt a little bit like a warm blanket, that simmering desire. We continued to DM a bit; we continued to text a bit. No one ever said anything that crossed a line but the yearning to do so was clearly palpable. I meant what I said and I’m assuming he meant what he said, because unlike other situations when a man has told me “I want you, but I will respect you and not act like a savage,” this man has done precisely that. No sexting, no truly overt innuendo on either of our parts and I don’t shy away from innuendo. It’s been basically PG-13 all the way.

But finally I decided that the flirty chitchat and fantasies, however contained, needed to stop. Here comes the embarrassing part, where I fess up to getting disgusted with myself.

Ready?

I was perusing social media (Instagram) when I noticed that this man wished a happy birthday to a woman on a story post (for those of you not using Instagram — a “story” post is a post that disappears after 24 hours and YES, there are still some people not on Instagram. Maybe they’re the smartest ones of all?) The birthday wish was short and simple and not terribly lovey-dovey. It was the kind of wish and wording that you see sometimes when you know two people are kind of going through the motions to acknowledge each other on social media because that’s what “expected” of them.

But it bothered me. It REALLY bothered me. Here’s my confession (and actually, I think I’ve decided that I’m NOT embarrassed about it, because I’m only human).

I looked at this vanilla “Happy birthday to you and thank you for all you do for me and my biz” and thought, "Well, that sure does speak to what he said. It’s about as warm and sexy as day old toast.” And I put down my phone. But then I picked up my phone and looked at that story again. And again.

It took a lot of restraint not to THROW the phone across the room, not because I was upset with him but because I was upset WITH ME.

EW!

I knew the deal. I knew which way the wind blew. I knew all the things he told me were missing in his relationship with this woman and further, I knew that he was telling me the truth. I knew all of that and I also knew that for whatever reason, he wasn’t broken up with her yet. So I had no reason to be upset with this social media post because he wasn’t my man. And yet…here I was. Upset. Agitated. Annoyed at myself and yet, strangely, still compelled to look at his social media again.

Now FIRMLY in Bad High School Drama Mode, I scrolled back through his online life for about 20 min. Had I missed something? Were these two people more “involved” than he led me to believe? The answer was still no. I saw instances of where he was taking day trips and weekend trips solo. I saw a post in which he lamented that he had no one to dance with when he visited a beloved spot in Europe and there were people gathering in a square, Old Country style. I had been messaging with him recently when he was away by himself on an overnight trip for work, in a locale that would’ve been a fun getaway for a couple, yet he was there alone. So I believed him. I also believed that I had superimposed my own narrative on this a bit — assuming that because he said he desired me, he’d be making changes to make that so, if I too stepped forward into it. No such thing was happening in this moment.

Dear Readers, for the remainder of that morning, I wasn’t too far from my phone, checking social media to see if he had posted anything else regarding this woman’s birthday or what she meant to him (he did not) and likewise, now that I knew her name, I looked at her account to see if SHE had posted anything about spending her birthday with HIM (nope). Remember I said HIGH SCHOOL? High school.

And then, Jesus Fucking Christ, I came to my senses. I went back on to Instagram and snoozed this man. Again, for those who don’t speak social media, to snooze someone means you “mute” an account so that anything posted is not shown to you, in both stories and on regular posts. And that was the end of it.

I felt like I was starting to loosen my grip, and then, finally, release myself entirely from the bindings of what was starting to be a pretty bad case of self-aggrandizing “what the actual fuck?!” directed at a man who was not available to take me on a proper date, not available to walk down the street with me, not available to hold my hand in public or wish ME a lovey-dovey birthday post. That WTF? It needed to be directed at me.

I was slightly aghast, maybe even shocked, that I had spent the better part of a morning ruminating on this, thinking about what was not mine to hold in my hands, and mourning it — MOURNING IT, I’m pretty sure, because it was something I thought I wanted and now knew I wasn’t getting in this moment. As an instant gratification girl, not getting something I want in the moment I want it is HARD**.

**Remember that I wrote this ^^^, about me being an instant gratification girl, in a few minutes, further down this post.

And the smallest thing — the silencing of the source of that “pain” via a flick of a “mute” button was all it took to cure me.

For the rest of the day, I took pretty serious stock of how I was feeling when I was looking at my phone. Was I at all tempted to look at this man’s Instagram account, to see if he had posted anything else about his girlfriend’s birthday or them as a couple or blah blah blah?

I wasn’t tempted in the least. I was done.

There was no need to block his account, or block his number, or do anything other than remove myself from harm’s way. From the harm I was on deck to cause myself.

Yes, we are Young Olds. I know that sometimes, it’s difficult to cut cords and there are ties that remain in place because of kids, of work connections, etc. We all come with baggage. I realized that in the moment, as I checked and re-checked his social media, I was giving myself even MORE to carry. And I’m much more interested in heaving around less stuff that doesn’t belong to me.

But it’s important to add this, mind you, I was never upset with him, or myself, for engaging in the conversations in the first place. I’m no angel or saint and for that matter, neither are any of you. I’m pretty sure that if I instructed only my Dear Readers who never have had a lusty thought about another person while committed to someone else to meet me under the high school bleachers (as it were), I’d be under those bleachers alone.

So, no, I’m not beating either of us up for wanting each other. I just know that for me, the wanting has to stop until there is no one in the room but us.

SO…at the time of writing this, it’s now about 24 hours since I muted his social media account, I’m going to pause this post and give you an update as to how I did over the weekend and into next week, before I hit “publish” on this piece. Stand by…

Ok, so, Dear Readers, it’s now the night before I publish each week (Tuesday).

How did I do? Aces.

I haven’t looked at his social media and in fact, haven’t really given him any thought at all. I like him and if he were unattached, I’d be interested. But, I’m not. Not after last week and that few hours of bullshit that I subjected myself to wading through. That goes against anything and everything I’ve told myself that I want at this age.

And because life shifts and moves like sand on a windy beach, there is something to be said for learning how to compartmentalize someone or something that doesn’t fit into your RIGHT NOW (hear that, Instant Gratification Girl?) This leaves room for other things to slide into place. Someone else has slid into place. It’s not a new man, but rather someone who I’ve spent a little bit of time with since the summer; we just had another date. I doubt I will spill the beans about it any time soon, because I want to savor it and again, as an IGGirl, what’s passing between us is most certainly going to be a lesson in waiting, in leaning into waiting, and for that matter, learning how to like waiting. Put it this way…I’m definitely not snoozing on this one.