Love

Why Do People Ask Me For Advice?

On to another question from Formspring:

Question: The one thing I’m most confused about is why all of these people write to you for relationship advice, yet you don’t seem to have been a part of many healthy, functioning relationships.  I question why you continually bounce from one man to the next.  Is it an attention thing?  A lack of confidence?  Who knows?  Best of luck finding what you seem to be searching for.

Answer: I would say I have what I’m searching for in the dating arena.  I enjoy my life and am open to whatever love and life have in store.  (I would have never imagined that I would leave one career I loved to embark on another exciting professional adventure.  And, on the relationship front, I am one of those women who actually likes dating and getting to know other people.  I'm not a fan of boring relationships either and seek passion and excitement from guys.  Right now, I have a great companion to fulfill that role, which is just what I’m interested in at this point in my life.)

I don't believe that I'm seeking attention, although I admit that as a blogger, I'm seeking an audience and people interested in my stories.  I can write that I don't lack for confidence personally or professionally, but that's a question better fielded by people who know me in real life. 

I don't view bouncing from one guy to another, as you put it, as a bad thing.  I have a fun dating life, and I've learned a lot about myself and relationships from every ex-boyfriend.  I’ve been very clear about my goal to adopt as a single mother.  I’m not looking for the traditional dating scenario that leads to marriage and children in that order.  That might not be something that the average person can identify with, but I hope that my readers will support my choices as I support theirs.

I learned to be accepting of other women and their choices from my mom.  Many of mom's friends would call her for personal and professional advice.  Mom taught me to prioritize my friendships with females, always be there for the people in your life, and be a good listener and a sounding board.

Friends started coming to me in college for relationship and sex advice.  (I also went to a women's college so there weren't many topics about which we didn't discuss ad nauseam.)  Now, thanks to my blog, I have a larger audience.  I’m the first to admit that I don’t always heed my own advice, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t recognize the same red flags in my dates that my readers do.  I also try to look for the best in people.  Maybe that makes me naïve or causes me to stay too long in relationships, but that is how I was raised and is not something that I’m likely to change.

I have been told that I give good advice and that my suggestions have helped friends and readers.  I think that people also feel like they can be honest about their flaws/problems/weaknesses/concerns because I’m so honest about mine.  I don’t claim to have all the answers, and I'm the first to admit that I haven't made the best decisions when it comes to the men I date.  But, I do care and will do my best to talk and brainstorm with friends and readers to resolve a problem.  (I just did so this morning, in fact.)

When I give advice, I hope to be viewed as a credible source who has done her research on the topic at hand.  I'm the In-House Passionista and Reviewer for Lotus Blooms (@DaschaBoutique on Twitter), and I've written freelance articles for Fascinations at Fun Love.

In addition, I’m a Supporting Member of the American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors and Therapists (AASECT).  In June, I attended AASECT’s annual conference and completed an intensive two-day class in Sexual Attitude Readjustment Training.  After I’m finished with chemotherapy and radiation, I plan to teach workshops on sex techniques, purchasing body-friendly toys, and spicing up your relationships.  I will apply for certification as a Sex Educator through AASECT and expect that continuing adult sex education will be a part of my life for years to come.

The beauty about my blog is that a person doesn’t need to read my posts if he or she doesn’t want to do so.  Likewise, it’s optional for people to email me with questions or seek advice from me on Formspring.  As my friends and readers know, if and when they need me, I'm here.

What are your thoughts about the reader's questions?  For those of you friends and readers who have come to me seeking advice, why have you done so? xoxo

Round Two

Her hair is gone now.  In only four days, she has lost half of her long, thick red mane.  She donates the rest to Locks of Love and shaves her head.  She thinks that losing her hair will make her incomprehensibly sad, and yet, it doesn't.  She finds a way to rock the G.I. Jane cut and realizes that she doesn't need her hair to be sexy.

Prior to her second round of chemotherapy, she calls her oncologist and has her internist do the same.  She is not going to go through such a horrible round of chemo – complete with three days of vomiting and IVs – again.

Her oncologist finally takes her seriously and appreciates that her health history makes her a unique patient.  He orders three days of IVs after chemotherapy, but decides to administer those IVs proactively (before she gets sick), rather than reactively.  He also gives her five new drugs to take during chemo week.

She hopes that the second round will be better, but it's just different.  Side effects from the drugs cause her to be irritable and suffer from temporary amnesia.  For five days, she walks around like a moody, forgetful zombie.  She has little, if any, memory of conversations she had or emails she sent during those days.  The Type-A lawyer who is used to being in control is anything but that.

Her body responds to chemotherapy in the opposite manner of most people.  The average patient is exhausted.  She can’t sleep for more than six hours a night and isn't able to nap much.  The typical female never gets her period again following chemo.  She starts to hemorrhage.  Most people lose weight from chemotherapy.  She gains weight.  In 20 days, she has only one day without a chemo-related side effect.  Her body is drained.

On October 26th, she loses her friend to colon cancer.  He was her partner in the fight against this disease.  In three days, she cries more than she’s cried in months.  Her heart is heavy.

Four more rounds of chemotherapy and six weeks of radiation await her.  And, she knows that nothing about the next four months will be easy.

This experience is the toughest thing that she has endured physically.  But then, she reminds herself that:

She

Is

Tougher.

She will get through this, and she is so very lucky that this was caught at Stage One.

Since early detection is what is saving her, she feels compelled to encourage her friends and readers to check the American Cancer Society’s Early Detection Guidelines.

If you notice an abnormal growth on or under your skin, get yourself to a doctor!

For the female readers:

Breast self-exams every month starting at age 20.  If you’re not sure how to do a self-exam, watch this three-minute video;

A clinical breast exam at your annual gynecologist appointment.  You should be screened for cervical cancer via a Pap smear three years after you first have sex or by the age of 21 (whichever comes first); and

Annual mammograms starting at age 35 if there’s a history of breast cancer in your family and at age 40 if there’s not.

She cares.

Quick, Quick, Slow

I receive quite a few sex and relationship questions via Formspring, but it’s been a while since I’ve posted my answers to them.  (Damn chemo!)  I figured that I would get back to doing so in between my posts about Mr. Exec.  I also have a great giveaway that I’ll be sharing with you all this evening.

Question 1a: With my ex-girlfriend, I could have sex for as long as I wanted.  With my current girlfriend, I can't last as long.  Insights on why that's so?

Answer: What's different with the equation?  The foreplay?  The positions?  How wet or orgasmic your partner is?  How often you have sex?

Has your current girlfriend indicated that this is a problem?  (I've dated guys who take a long time and guys who cum very quickly. As long as I'm satisfied, I'm okay with either mode.)

Question 1b: Nothing has really changed.  Same positions usually.  Wetness same.  She hasn't voiced a concern; this is more for making it better (not that it was bad).  I just don't know why anything is different.

Answer: Have you tried a sexual enhancement gel or herb?  (If you or your partner has sensitive skin or allergies, it’s best to stick to herbs over gels.  With respect to herbal products, herbs have yet to be approved by the FDA, although they are commonly used in Eastern medicine.) 

You could also add a cock ring to increase pressure to the base of your cock and keep your erection for longer.  They stimulate the clitoris during sex, making it much easier for the female to orgasm.

You also might try switching positions often to break the rhythm that you're in so that you can last longer.  (Some women love changing positions a lot.  Some don't.  The effectiveness of that strategy might depend on your partner.)

Good luck!

So, readers, did I miss anything?  Do you have any other suggestions for this guy?

In The Third Person

She feels like she’s looking through a kaleidoscope, only no turn of the wheel ends up on a pretty picture.  No flowers.  No butterflies.  No vistas resembling a peacock’s plume.

“We can’t give you the easier chemo,” her oncologist says as tears stream down her face.

“Why am I finding this out now?  Why did you tell me you were going to do what’s kinder on my health?” she asks incredulously.

“All of that changed the moment we received your HER2 results.  Your cancer is too aggressive to be treated any other way.”

“Give a girl a heads up next time so I could have had some time to prepare!  [Pause.]  So, I’m definitely losing my hair?” she inquires in the midst of her sobs.

Her oncologist nods.  She asks for a few minutes to herself to call her ex-boyfriend from Philadelphia.  She listens to his words of wisdom, realizing that there’s no reason to prolong the inevitable.  Given the lab results, this is the normal protocol.

As she walks into the “Infusion Center,” one nurse comments:

You have the most beautiful hair.

“Fuck,” she replies.

The treatment itself isn’t as bad as she had expected.  Thanks to the mediport, she barely feels the eight IV bags that give her fluids, chemotherapy, herceptin and antibiotics.  She tells the nurses about her propensity for nausea and vomiting and is assured that the current medicines are much better than they used to be.

“Most people just get nauseous with chemo these days.  You probably won’t even throw up,” her nurse informs her.

“Wow! That would be great!”

She goes home and has a light dinner before watching Love Actually with one of her friends.  For a few minutes, she actually thinks to herself that this might not be that bad.

Morning brings exhaustion, which is to be expected.  But then, she can’t stomach sips of water or ginger ale.  Hours later, she ends up on the phone crying to the doctor’s office, while lying on the Oriental rug in the fetal position.

It feels like she’s starring in her own Lifetime movie.

Her friend brings her to the Infusion Center.  Two hours of fluids and anti-nausea meds do the trick, and she heads home with a smile on her face and a little of her appetite back.  Her man comes over that evening and says words so sweet that she wonders if they might actually make it through this together.

He wakes her up with warm kisses on her face, telling her that she will always be sexy to him.  When she sends him on his way to work, she hopes that the worse is behind her.

But, alas, that’s not the case.

That evening requires her to go to the Emergency Room for more fluids and anti-nausea medications.

And then, the following day, she returns to the Infusion Center for more IVs.  She may be new to the world of chemo, but she is a savvy enough patient to realize that three consecutive days of IV therapy after treatment are not the norm.  Only at that time does the Head Nurse mention that she might need to be admitted to the hospital during treatment.

In her dehydrated haze, she forgets to ask:

This time or next time?

But, she’ll remember before she goes to get her second round of chemo in October.  You can bet on that.  She will do whatever she can to ensure that this Lifetime movie does not turn into a miniseries.

She reminds herself that she is one of the lucky ones.

She is blessed.

This was caught early.

She won’t lose her hair for another week or two.

The next year is just one year in a lifetime of years.

Moment-by-moment, she will get through this.

She sobs.  For right at this moment, there is nothing else she feels like doing.

Tomorrow

I was up in Friendship Heights last week, when I received the call from my oncologist's office. The physician's assistant tried as kindly as she could to break the news to me:

So…the lab finally got back to us with the results. You're HER2 positive. [HER2 is one of the most aggressive forms of breast cancer.]

Me: I had a feeling.

We decided that I would have a mediport installed on Friday, September 17th. [A mediport is a device that's implanted under the skin and allows easy access to your veins.] And then, she scheduled me for my first of six chemotherapy sessions on Tuesday, September 21st.

When I hung up the phone, I leaned against the window of an empty storefront and sobbed for a few minutes. You know those cries where your whole body shakes? Yeah, it was that kind of cry.

Two people walked by me. I sensed that they wanted to stop, but didn't know what to say. I guess that I didn't know what to say either. (Well, besides the word, "fuck.")

I haven't cried that much since Friday, but I feel unsettled. I'm starting chemo tomorrow. There are days in which I love watching the clock move forward hour-by-hour. But, I'm watching the hours pass today as though I'm waiting for the bell to toll.

I don't want chemo. At all.

I don't want to worry about how my already weakened immune system will react to chemotherapy. I don't want to be more nauseous than I already am on a given week. I don't want to wonder if I'll fall within the 15% of people who lose their hair on this type of treatment.

Did I mention that I don't want it?

On the night after I got the port put in, my man came over to my place. The port surprisingly hurts a lot, and he's never seen me in this much pain. I was in so much pain that I didn't even want to orgasm or have sex. Me!

Me: You realize that this is going to get a lot worse, right?

Him: Yes, and I'll be here for you.

Me: I just feel really vulnerable now. Like I don't want cancer to be the reason why we don't work out.

Him: That's not going to happen.

Me: If I'm bald?

Him: I'll help you find a hot wig. Some look that you've always wanted to try. You are going to look sexy no matter what!

Me [smiling as I bury my head in his chest]: Maybe…what if I lose my sex drive?

Him: That's not going to happen with you.

Me [laughing out loud]: Misty joked that if I lose my sex drive I would still have a normal person's drive.

Him: Exactly. And, if you lose your drive, then it just means that I have to work harder.

I kissed him, as I fought back tears. It must be karma or God's way of balancing my life out that in the midst of fighting cancer, my relationship with my man and my blog are better than ever!

As I think about the months that lie ahead, I can't help but feel grateful for early diagnosis and great medical care. I realize that there could have been a much different ending to this story. I also appreciate that the treatment that I will undergo in the coming months is to ensure that I'll be around for decades to come. I owe it to myself, my loved ones and the child I will adopt to be as strong as I can and do whatever possible to live a very long life.

Yesterday, I was interviewed for a breast cancer documentary. The producers asked me how breast cancer affected me and three words came to mind:

Vanity; Advocacy and Humanity.

I feel blessed to have such an outpouring of support from friends and readers. On the advocacy front, I know that I will be doing more with the issue of toxic ingredients in sex toys. I'm a sex blogger with breast cancer and a penchant for helping others. I anticipate speaking out about the use of cancer-causing phthalates in adult toys…under my real name.

But first, I need to kick this cancer thing. And, vanity requires me to do that with my own long red locks.

xoxo

Even more to the story

Mr. Exec and I had dated for a month. And then, we stopped talking to each other for a month. Now, Mr. Exec was back in my bed, referring to us a couple and telling me not to blog about our relationship. I didn't know what shocked me more!

Me: I'm sorry I can't promise not to blog about you. That's what I do.

Mr. Exec: I'm a very private person, and I need to know that what I say and do around you won't show up in your blog.

Me: I respect that you are a private person, but have you ever actually read my blog?

Mr. Exec: No.

Me: I'm a storyteller. I'm all about the details. You're asking me to change what I do right at the point when my blog might be turning into something bigger? You went to my Blog Party. You knew what I was doing!

Mr. Exec: And, I'm happy for you. But, I just don't want you writing about me.

Me: But, you want to date me and be in my bed? Writing about that stuff is what I do!

We spoke more about my blog and my readers, and then Mr. Exec asked me to leave a specific matter out of the blog.

Me: I'm fine with leaving that out.

Mr. Exec: Good. But, I don't want stuff that happens in our bed to be a topic for your blog. That's private…between us.

Me: What's with the 'our bed' talk? So, we're doing this? We're really getting back together and going to be a couple?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

Me [Long Pause]: Then, I might be willing to write about our bedroom activities without as much detail as I normally do. I'm not sure. I'll need to see how things with us go and how it works to change my style a bit. I'll definitely leave out what we discussed, though. I get that. And, I can also send you posts before I put them up so you can see what I wrote. Does that sound okay for now and then we can talk more about this when I get closer to blogging about our earlier dates?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

We kissed again, and it felt different. We always had passion together, but now, it felt sweeter and more solid.

He moved down the bed so that his head was between my legs and starting going down on me.

Mr. Exec [coming up for air]: Did you miss this?

Me: Definitely. You know I love when you do that, baby!

Twenty minutes and several orgasms later, it was my turn to reciprocate. In between kisses and oral, Mr. Exec said:

I hated that you said I wasn't there for you.

Me: But, you weren't.

Mr. Exec: I never want to be that guy with anyone, especially you.

Me: I know you don't. And, I know that you won't be like that again.

Mr. Exec: You made me so mad when you said that I was there for my friends, but not for you.

Me: I know I did. But, I know that's not how you are fundamentally. If I thought that was who you were, you wouldn't be in my bed right now.

Mr. Exec: I'm always there for the people I care about! Always!

Me: I know. You weren't for me that one time, and I know that it will never happen again.

Mr. Exec: It won't.

The topic changed to upcoming events, and he asked:

How are you going to be at events with all these women approaching me?

Me: Will they know that we're a couple?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

Me: Then, I'll be fine. As long as we're on the same page and they know that we're together, I won't freak out or need to be all up on you. I'd only get that way if they didn't know about us.

Mr. Exec: You know if I'm flirting with older women that it's just business. I'll never lie to you and I'll never let you down.

Me: Yes, baby, I know. Business is just business. And, I will always support you professionally. We both have very expensive tastes! [We laugh.] Are you going to be fine with me flirting with other guys?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

Me: That's good because it's not like I'm a wallflower. So…we're doing this? We're going public as a couple? You're okay letting your many fans know that we're together?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

He kissed me, and then we let the discussions about the relationship and blog go. I hadn't had sex with anyone since "Buckeyes" Boy because I wasn't ready to do so. Until now.

(Much) more to the story

As I joined Mr. Exec on the couch, we caught up about work and life. (Yes, we had seen each other a few days ago at Ceiba, but we didn’t exactly have the chance to have a heart-to-heart at the bar.)

Me: I noticed on Facebook that you had some meetings at USAID. What’s going on with them?

Mr. Exec told me about a project that he was trying to get involved in. If it worked out as he was hoping it would, he’d be doing a lot of traveling.

Me: That’s great! Where to?

Mr. Exec: Well, first I’d be heading to Hong Kong and then several countries in South America. The details are still be finalized, but if we come to an agreement, I’d like to write you into the deal for South America.

Me: What do you mean?

Mr. Exec: You. Me. South America. [He names several South American countries like he’s in a Geography class. I realize that he’s rather buzzed, but I’m intrigued and want to hear more.]

Me [laughing out loud]: Okay. What exactly would we be doing there, and why would you want me there with you?

Mr. Exec then described the work that I had done as an attorney, my ongoing commitment to the causes I care about, and what I would be able to add to this specific project. I honestly didn’t realize that he knew me and my background as well as he did. I was impressed and flattered.

Me: Thanks. That would definitely be something that I’m interested in. Would it be one long trip or four small ones?

Mr. Exec: Four small ones.

Me [pausing]: I’d have to check with my doctors, but that might be doable. Especially if the trips would be spread out. [Traveling often requires me to get IVs so it’s not something that I do often anymore for the fun of it.]

Mr. Exec: How is everything going health-wise?

Me: Things have been pretty good, but I have to see my neurosurgeon since some of that stuff is getting worse. I also found a lump.

Mr. Exec [interrupting out of concern]: In your breast?

Me: Yes. I’ve had several lumps before so it’s not a big deal, but my doctors usually take them out. If everything with my health is okay, then I’d love to get involved in the project. [This occurred back in late May, and as many of you know, it wasn’t benign.]

Mr. Exec: Well, let me know what the doctors say. I’ll be praying that everything is okay.

He seemed protective of me, and I found myself liking that.

Me: Since it’s pretty late, want to get some sleep?

Mr. Exec followed me into the bedroom. I went into the bathroom to change into a shirt and shorts. When I got into bed, my dog, Nutter, would not move from in between Mr. Exec and me. It was like she knew what had happened in the past and was holding a grudge against him.

Me: Nutter is giving you no love, huh? [We laugh.] Goodnight.

Mr. Exec: Turn around and give me a goodnight kiss. [I turn around to give him the quickest kiss possible, and roll back over on my side.] No, I want a real goodnight kiss.

I turned over and really kissed him. His kiss was as good as I remembered with just the right amount of tongue and intensity. We talked between kisses:

Mr. Exec: I missed you.

Me: That’s nice to hear.

Mr. Exec: Did you miss me?

Me: No.

Mr. Exec: I know you missed me.

Me: I didn’t.

Mr. Exec: Yes, you did. It’s okay to admit it.

Me: Well…maybe a little. [I smile.]

Mr. Exec: I know you did.

Me: You’re here, aren’t you? You wouldn’t be if I didn’t miss you at all.

I rolled over so that I was on top of him, as we continued to make out. I took off my shirt and my bra, as he said:

What happens in our bed stays in our bed. Our relationship is special and private. It is not to be shared with your readers, even though you might think that they deserve to know. They don’t.

Whoaaaaa! Our bed? Our relationship? Where did that come from? And, I wasn’t supposed to blog about it! Was he kidding? I had a feeling that this was going to be a long night.

To be continued…

A new chapter…maybe

Improv Boy was out of the picture, and I found my lineup in May to be rather thin. I needed to remedy that quickly! When Best Boy texted me about meeting for drinks on Friday night, I happily said yes.

"Who's Best Boy?" you might be wondering.

Umm…Best Boy is Mr. Exec's best friend. Yeah. Now, friends and family members of ex-boyfriends are typically off-limits, but I didn't really consider Mr. Exec an ex-boyfriend. I'm sensing your skepticism through my computer screen so let me build my case:

Mr. Exec and I hadn't slept together. We had only gone out a handful of times. We didn't form an emotional connection and weren't friends. And, back in early April, Mr. Exec was the guy who failed to follow through on his offer to help me out after my concussion. Given all of those things, I felt like the "Friends and Family Rule" didn't apply in this instance so I made plans to go to Happy Hour with Best Boy.

I had met Best Boy last year at the same charity event where I had met Mr. Exec. Best Boy is 6'4" and light skinned with full lips and a muscular body that's not too thick. He's definitely good-looking, but his personality is what makes him stand out in a crowd.

"Why is that?" you might be asking.

Well, Best Boy has a laid-back attitude and is friendly to everyone he meets. He smiles more than any guy I know, and if there's a problem in the room, he tries to calmly and peacefully resolve it in a way that makes those around him happy. Like Mr. Exec, he's also an entrepreneur, but he approaches his business endeavors without a sense of cockiness or entitlement. While Mr. Exec is a belligerent bull in a china shop, Best Boy favors making connections with others and rolling with things.

Best Boy is also the master of Facebook Pokes. (Yes, you read that correctly.) When most guys poke me on Facebook, I remove the notification from my homepage without responding. But, with Best Boy, his incessant poking became a fun game. Our pokes led to us emailing on Facebook, which then led to an exchange of text messages. (He was one of the guys who was texting me while I was at the baseball game with Improv Boy.)

Best Boy asked me out for drinks, and we decided to meet at the bar at Ceiba. (I love that restaurant!)

Best Boy and I originally planned to meet at 7pm. But, I asked if we could move drinks to 8pm so that I could grab a power nap. He replied that he wanted me to feel rested and relaxed so 8pm was perfect.

As I was getting ready, I was texting with my friend, Autumn. I wondered if this was a date or a get-together between friends. It felt more like a date since he asked me out on a Friday night. But, I hadn't seen Best Boy in seven months so it might just have been a Happy Hour between friends.

Me to Autumn [knowing what a control freak Mr. Exec is]: I wonder if Mr. Exec knows we're going out. Or, if he orchestrated this for Best Boy to try to talk to me? Or, if he's going to show up?

Autumn: I don't know. I doubt it, though.

Me: Yeah, that would just be unnecessary drama. I'm going to have fun whatever happens, though.

As I was heading out the door, I noticed that it was raining and grabbed a small umbrella. When I got outside, though, I realized that it was pouring! It was that type of torrential rain that sprays sideways so there was no way for me not to get drenched. I usually like to walk to Ceiba, but when I found an empty cab, I nabbed it as quickly as I could.

When I got inside the cab, I noticed just how wet I was. The bottom of my jeans was soaked, and the back of my hair was drenched so that 80% of my hair looked perfect and 20% hung wet and shapeless. I just exhaled and laughed to myself. What could I do?

My phone vibrated with a call from Best Boy as I started to drip dry. Best Boy was just leaving his office and worried that he might be late given the storm.

Me: No problem. You were the one who was cool when I asked to meet later so whenever you get there is perfect. Just drive safely. It's nasty outside.

Best Boy: I know. It looks like Armageddon. [We laugh.] So, are you at Ceiba yet?

Me: No, I'm in a cab on H.

Best Boy: So…I just got off the phone with Mr. Exec.

Me: Uh…huh.

Best Boy: I'm not sure if this matters, but he's at the bar.

Me: At Ceiba?

Best Boy: Yes.

Me: He's there…now?!?

Best Boy: Yes. Is that going to be a problem?

Was I being punked?

To be continued…

Giving things a chance

I had just realized that I had been mistakenly texting my high school boyfriend, Boston Christian, all afternoon, instead of the guy that I was currently dating, Improv Boy. Boston Christian had played along in a manner that was mostly funny, a tad embarrassing and rather surprising given the fact that he was married. I also didn’t know what to say to Improv Boy about the day’s events, as he was standing in front of me.

As my cheeks reddened, I laughed out loud numerous times. When I explained the story to Improv Boy, he chuckled uncomfortably. Throughout the evening, I wanted to bring up how humorous I found the situation, but I didn’t. It was clear to me that Improv Boy wasn’t as entertained as I was.

When Improv Boy headed to the bathroom, I quickly texted Boston Christian.

Me: Omg!!! Rofl!!! I started dating a guy named Christian. Just realized when you wrote about a game because he’s over. So funny and so sorry! Xoxo

Boston Christian: I had a feeling… =)

I wanted to text more with Christian, but I knew that my attention should be focused on my date. I put my phone away and went back to the kitchen. While dinner was cooking in the oven, Improv Boy and I alternated between enjoying our drinks (Italian Chianti for him and diet pepsi for me) and making out. I hadn’t cooked in a while and I wasn’t sure if this recipe was a winner. But, when dinner was served, he complimented my cooking several times and even went back for seconds!

Me: I hadn’t realized how much I had missed cooking until tonight. Hopefully, I can make more meals for you in the near future.

Improv Boy: I’d like that. And, you know I love to cook so I’ll help you.

Me [smiling]: That would be nice.

We sat very close to each other as we were eating, brushing each other’s legs and kissing between bites. He then looked at me and said:

Guess what I’m doing on Thursday?

Me: I don’t know. What?

Improv Boy: Going to the doctor to get tested [for HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases]!

Me: Really?

Improv Boy: Yep!

I smiled and thanked him, but I really wanted to say, “Whooooaaa! It’s way too soon for that!”

Our first one-on-one date was April 29th. When the topic of sex came up that evening, I let him know that I didn’t want to have sex until we had been together for at least a month (May 29th). And, he made an appointment to get tested on May 6th! Yes, I had a crush on him, but it just seemed premature to decide if we were in an exclusive relationship. We had only dated eight days and were still getting to know each other!

My normal reaction would have been to run or at least to retreat a bit. But, I decided to approach this situation differently. I exhaled. I would know soon enough if Improv Boy and I were a match, and I didn’t have to have sex with him if I wasn’t ready. Plus, after dating several guys who didn’t take the HIV/STD testing issue as seriously as I did, it was refreshing to find someone who felt the same way and took the initiative to get tested.

After dinner, we moved to the couch to watch a movie and resume making out. The subject then turned to more serious matters.

Improv Boy: So, I’ve noticed your Medical Alert bracelet.

Me: Yeah, I figured you did.

Improv Boy: I know you have some health stuff you’re dealing with. I used to be an EMT so I want to be able to know how to help you if you need it. Mind telling me about your conditions?

Me [taking a deep breath]: Sure.

We talked for about 15 minutes about my health issues and how he might be of assistance to me. I made sure to mention what I learned from my conversation with “Buckeyes” Boy. (I hadn’t realized until “Buckeyes” Boy had pointed it out last year that I take for granted that my new boyfriends just automatically understand what to do when my conditions act up.)

After the movie ended, Improv Boy and I also decided to go to a baseball game that Friday evening with some friends of mine. Abigail, my friend who does comedy with Improv Boy, would be there, too.

Improv Boy: Will the game be too much for you? [I have Post-Concussion Syndrome so loud noises and crowds can be very disorienting.]

Me: It might be, but it’s worth a try, right?

Improv Boy: Okay. I’ll buy the tickets.

We retired to the bedroom for me to tuck him in. As our arms and lips locked, I felt happy and safe. Yes, we had gotten close very quickly, and I didn’t know what the future would hold for us. But, I decided to give my relationship with Improv Boy a chance. He seemed worth it.

Making me blush

Several hours after Improv Boy had left my place on a Monday morning in early May, I awoke with two thoughts on my mind:

1. It was comfortable and easy to be with Improv Boy; and
2. I really didn't want to go out on a date with Mr. Attorney the following evening.

There are times in my life when I enjoy dating several different guys at once. Other times, though, I prefer to focus all of my attention on one guy. Improv Boy and I had gone out with each other several times, and I wanted to see how things would evolve.

Did my personality mesh well with Mr. Attorney? I vacillated between sending Mr. Attorney an email canceling our plans for Tuesday and telling him that I preferred not to go out with him again — ever. I decided on the former to keep my options open. Mr. Attorney was my type physically and was great on paper. Improv Boy wasn't either of those things, but treated me like a queen. I figured that I could actively pursue Improv Boy without totally closing the door on Mr. Attorney.

I sent Mr. Attorney an email, apologizing for being unable to see him. He offered to reschedule for Wednesday since he was heading out of town after that, but I said that I was unavailable. He called me, and I let it go to voicemail. I realize that wasn't the most direct approach, but I knew that the tone in my voice would convey my disinterest.

As the day progressed, I found myself thinking about Improv Boy incessantly. It was odd for me to focus on how a guy treated me, rather than my desire to have sex with him. But, with Improv Boy, it was all about how kind he was. He checked in every day to let me know he was thinking about me, he told me how beautiful I was, and he was genuinely supportive of me, my health and my goals. I don't usually fall for the good guy, but maybe it was time for that?!?

Later that afternoon, Improv Boy contacted me via Google Talk. Our unedited conversation is below:

Improv Boy: I'm starving

Me: 2 bad u aren't here. have lots of things to feed you

Improv Boy: you're incorrigible
but adorable

Me: really?
aww – now i'm blushing

Improv Boy: any night you offer to make me dinner, you'll have me there with bells on. it's not an offer I get too often

Me: me cooking…for you?
u r a comic 😉

[I used to cook all the time for my parents, but I've rarely cooked since my Mom died. I associate cooking with love.]

Improv Boy: hey, if it's prepared before I arrive, then I promise to be blissfully ignorant….

Me: if i say, i'm going to cook. i'll do it.
u have plans 2mrw night?

Improv Boy: nope

Me: dinner & dvd at my place?

Improv Boy: sounds like a plan!
i might cook, but there will b food

[I had told him earlier that I was acting like a dork where he was concerned and decided to finally tell him why.]

Me: so…say there was this red-headed girl
who had a date for tomorrow night
but realized that she didn't want to go out on a date with that guy
because she had a little crush on a guy she hung out with last night
so she canceled that date

Improv Boy: uh huh

Me: and is really happy to see the guy she wants to hang w/ tomorrow
the end

Improv Boy: I like this story
I'm looking forward to the sequel

Me: me 2

As we signed off our session, I found myself smiling. I wanted to cook for Improv Boy and make him happy because he made me happy. I hadn't felt like that in a while. And, it felt really good.