relationships

He’s great on paper, but…

July 2009

I was still on a high from meeting JAG Man. We had a lot in common, and we were both in similar places in our lives.

We met on a Thursday, and he asked me out for the following evening. (He won points for not playing the "wait three days" game. I was never one for those dating rules.) JAG Man invited me out for a dog walk and coffee. I was looking forward to that, but my sick pooch put a wrench in those plans. I figured that JAG Man would suggest that we grab coffee without my dog, but he surprised me by asking if I wanted to have dinner…at Westend Bistro by Eric Ripert. The wanna-be foodie in me gave him extra points for that wonderful suggestion.

I thoroughly enjoyed our dinner, but I liked JAG Man's company even more than the food. He's incredibly intelligent, and I felt inspired by his accomplishments. He also has a kind heart, and his face lit up when he talked about spending time with his nieces.

After dinner, we walked back to my place. I invited JAG Man inside, and he helped me prepare sangria for my Girls' Night the following evening. I kept waiting for him to try to make a move, but he never did. Three hours later, he said that he needed to leave before he "lost control." I wasn't sure if that would have been a good thing or a bad thing, but I respected the fact that he wanted to take his time getting to know each other. (I had jumped into bed way too soon with far too many guys. At this stage of my life, though, I was interested in a relationship, not just casual sex.)

JAG Man and I made plans to see each other on Sunday night. I had so many leftovers from my party that we just had dinner at my place. After we ate, we sat on my balcony and talked for a couple of hours. When we went back inside my apartment, he moved toward me and kissed me. Really kissed me.

His lips and tongue felt perfect against mine. He kissed with just the right blend of softness and strength. We stayed on the couch and made out for two hours like we were in high school. I was wet, and he was hard, but neither of us talked about sex. I had a feeling that there would be time for that in the future.

As JAG Man was leaving, I realized that I had a little crush on him. I hadn't had a crush on a guy in a very long time, and it felt good. A half-hour later, JAG Man called to let me know that he had gotten home okay.

JAG Man: I had a great time tonight.

Me: So did I.

JAG Man: I wanted to let you know that I'm not really sure what I'm looking for right now.I don't know where I see this going.

Me: Well, we're just getting to know each other so we don't need to talk about that yet, do we?

JAG Man: Well, I broke up with my ex-girlfriend two years ago, and that was really hard. I'm still processing my feelings. Since she and I broke up, I have a tendency to fall really fast for girls and then, when we start to get close, I stop calling them.

Me: [Holy Shit! Where is this even coming from? We just met three days ago! We barely know each other. Plus, who throws out all his issues on the second date?] So…are you telling me this because you want me to stop you if you do that with me or because you just want me to know why you won't be calling me back down the road?

JAG Man: The latter.

Me: [Long pause.] Okay. [Another pause.] It just seems a bit odd to bring this all up now.

JAG Man: Well, I dated a girl earlier this year, and when she confronted me as to why I became distant, I told her that I wasn't ready for anything serious. She had said that she wished she knew that from the beginning, and I didn't want to make the same mistake with you.

Me: Okay. Thanks then.

He and talked for another half hour or so about other topics, but in the back of my head, I kept wondering…

Was Mr. Great on Paper really not that great when it came to relationships?

It’s always sunny with Philly Matt

June 2005

I left NYC a day early to stop off in Philadelphia to go out with Philly Matt. We hadn't seen each other since my Girls' Weekend in Philadelphia in late April. I got off the train and took the escalator up to the main level of the station. There Matt was…looking as fine as ever in his jean jacket and French Connection t-shirt. We gave each other a long, close hug, and I sighed to myself. It felt good to (finally) choose a nice guy!

Philly Matt had less than 24 hours to plan our date, but he still put some thought into it. We drove off to a restaurant in Olde City. There was a fireplace inside with a lot of warm wood and European beers on tap. The restaurant was casual, but romantic. We grabbed a drink at the bar, while we waited for a table. He turned to me and said,

"It's already 8. I'm happy to bring you back to the station after dinner so you can get a train back to DC tonight. But, on the chance that you wanted to stay over, I reserved a room for you at the Westin. I don't mean to be presumptuous, and I'm happy to go home tonight or sleep on the couch in the hotel room. I just wanted to spend as much time with you as I could, and I didn't want to worry about you on the train at midnight."

I looked at him and smiled, "That was really thoughtful, Matt. I would love to stay over. I'm sure the couch will work, too."

In less than an hour, Philly Matt had exhibited several qualities that I wasn't used to seeing in the guy that I was dating. (Thoughtful and communicative guys might be the norm for some girls, but not me.) I could tell that I was ready for a nicer guy because his comments and actions didn't scare me off in the slightest.

Matt sat at the bar for over an hour, talking about his children, my job and how we met. When we finally got to a table, I realized that I hadn't stopped smiling since he picked me up from the station. Philly Matt made me laugh and feel safe all at the same time.

I could tell that I liked him when I showed him my dorky side. He excused himself to go to the bathroom, and I took one of my business cards out of my purse and wrote a little note on the back about how fine he was. When he returned to our table, he saw the card on his chair, read it and laughed out loud.

After dinner, we went over to Club 27 where we met. We danced a bit. And, then, that part of me that can over-think relationships with men kicked into gear. For over two years, my world revolved around Basketball Boy. Even when I was seeing other guys, I just viewed them as temporary companionship and would drop everything for Basketball Boy. Now, I was looking at Philly Matt and only thinking about him. Did he have boyfriend potential?

We didn't stay long at the club since it was packed. We headed back to the Westin, and I set some ground rules: I didn't want to do anything south of the border. If he was okay with that, I was fine with him sleeping in the bed with me.

Philly Matt wasn't just fine with that, but he thought that it was smart to take things slow and get to know each other. Wow! Now, that was refreshing!

Our time together in the hotel room reminded me of the second night that we spent together in April. His mouth was so warm. His tongue was engaging and passionate without being sloppy. When he kissed me, I felt weak in the knees – no matter whether we were standing up or lying down.

In the morning, we woke up and just picked up where we left off. We made out for over an hour like we were in high school. At noon, he realized that he didn't know when checkout time was. He picked up the phone and called the front desk.

"Yes, I was wondering what time checkout is? [Pause.] Noon, huh? [Pause.] As in, right now? [Pause. He laughs.] Well, would it be possible to have a later checkout? [Pause.] Thank you!"

We had another two hours. Oh, in case you're wondering how we spent that time, we used 15 minutes to get ready and the rest of the time to kiss each other some more. I know that we had brunch afterward, but couldn't tell you where or what we talked about. I just remember boarding the train that afternoon to DC and thinking that I would be spending much more time in Philadelphia. *Sigh*

What’s good for the goose…

This afternoon, I posted the following Tweet: Thinking about double standards between men and women. Would I have to blog about relationships and sex anonymously if I was a guy? (To clarify, I'm assuming that the guy in this scenario is straight since the issue of sexual orientation would add another huge obstacle to the equation.)

Since I attended the DC Twestival last week, I've been thinking a lot about this. I don't know if I can be a selectively-anonymous sex blogger, but I'm going to try. The majority of my friends on Facebook have known about my blog since its inception. If I meet people who I think would enjoy my posts, I openly share my blog link with them. Most of my ex-boyfriends also know about this site.

However, I have kept my name and face off of my blog so that I have some control over who finds out about my relationship history. My hesitancy to reveal my identity to every reader stems from the fact that I don't want to be judged about my sexual proclivities in the workplace.

There are a lot of lawyers out there who dislike the profession in general or their jobs in particular. I just don't happen to be one of them. I've wanted to be an attorney since I was 14-years-old and love the law! But, I fear that as a female attorney in a conservative city like DC that I'm not allowed to openly love sex, too!

With respect to my career and the blog, I feel like a male attorney could joke about his dating escapades after work with his colleagues over cigars at Morton's without serious repercussions. I'm not intimating that there wouldn't be any professional ramifications if a man's sex blog became public, but I doubt that a guy would receive much more than a scolding:

Might not want to talk about your personal life around the office, Mike. Some of the ladies might not understand. [Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.]

When I finish my master's program in a few months and return to practicing law, I don't think that I'll be afforded the same freedoms as my male counterparts. My blog and my sexuality will have to be kept a secret from my co-workers. I'm not suggesting that an office is the appropriate place to engage in sexual banter. But, there is still a double standard when it comes to sex and the sexes, and that angers me on so many levels.

In all but one office where I've worked, senior male employees have made inappropriate comments about my body. I've learned to stand up for myself, but I know that I couldn't make similar comments about how a male partner's suit hugs his curves just so. I also couldn't be taken as seriously if my colleagues knew that I was City Girl. (I could write several more paragraphs about Puritanical values, what men can get away with in the workplace versus women, and how I expect more out of our society in 2009, but I'll spare you.)

So, what's your opinion to my original question? Do you agree or disagree that a man can blog more easily about sex and relationships than a woman?

I'm going to continue to do my best to be "selectively out" as a sex blogger. Only time will tell if that one foot in and one foot out approach will work.

It’s a Dick in my In Box!

Last spring, I finally came to the realization that Internet dating is not for me. I've done it a few times over the years, but I've found that the guys I meet online typically fall into one of two groups:

1. Want to get married and/or have children ASAP. Such a cavalier approach to something as serious as marriage freaks me out. I am in no rush to get married, and want to really know someone well before I stand in front of him and say that, "Yes. This is forever." When guys from online sites talk about relationships and commitments by the second date, I never stick around for the third; or

2. Just want to get laid. Now, I'm fine if people are up front about that, but don't place or respond to an ad about a relationship, when you really just want a casual encounter.

Tennis Boy fell into the second category, although I had initially thought we were looking for the same things when we met in 2007. He was well educated, attractive, international and athletic. Our first date consisted of taking his dog for a long walk in the park. He seemed respectful and considerate — to both the dog and me. I don't keep a tally as to how well a date is going, but if I did, he would have scored quite a few points.

For our second date later that week, we went to a lounge. Again, he did and said everything right. Conversation with him was easy, and he had a good sense of humor. He paid for my drinks. He walked me to my car at the end of the night. He gave me the tiniest kiss on the lips (closed mouth). He was heading out of town the following week and then I was going to be out of town, but we planned to see each other when I got home.

Two weeks later, I was back in DC, but he had a bad cold. We texted and e-mailed a few times, and I figured that we would eventually go out again. I wasn't pressed about it, though.

So, imagine my surprise, when I saw that I had an e-mail from him at 1am. The subject was "I'm thinking of you," and there was an attached photo. I clicked on it, and stared at my computer screen with a look of shock on my face.

Tennis Boy had sent me a photo of himself naked. If you think this might have been an artistic or subtle shot, think again. He took the picture from the neck down and in the center of the shot was his hard dick. Tennis Boy was sitting on a stool as he was posing, and in the background was his disgustingly dirty kitchen floor.

When I told a friend the story, she asked, "How did his dick look?" I guess that didn't even matter to me since the e-mail was so inappropriate that I just deleted it. Another friend commented, "It is never a good thing to send genitalia pics online." For serious! How did he go from Mr. Chivalry to Mr. Dick in my In Box?

I didn't reply to that e-mail, but he wrote me again. He intimated that he thought I was more open to those kind of things. Eww! Again, I didn't reply.

I was telling the story to a few friends at a local bar, when one of my boys said, "Wait a minute. Is his name…?" Yep. From the basic information that I shared at the bar, my friend knew the guy, and was not necessarily surprised that he did this.

Well, I guess I should feel lucky to have gotten out when I did. Someone else can deal with Tennis Boy, his fetish for unattractive naked self-portraits, and that gross kitchen.

Brooklyn Boy — Part II or What Not to Say on a Date

I was really looking forward to my date with Brooklyn Boy and saw the evening as a chance for us to get to know each other better. We went to a nice lounge in Chelsea and a casual, Asian-fusion restaurant in Union Square. I’m not one who requires a guy to be overly chivalrous or attentive, but I do notice those things. I offered to pay my way at the lounge and at dinner, and he took me up on both of those offers.

That might have made more sense had he not gone on – almost ad-nauseam – about how he’s trying to figure out how this relationship can work if we live in different cities the majority of the time. (Hmm…I didn’t know we were in a relationship yet.) I said that we would see each other over inauguration, which wasn’t too far off. He replied that a month was a very long time to wait. Seriously? We don’t even really know each other. Does he want me to run in the opposite direction? (That tends to happen if someone gets super-clingy with me after only a few dates.)

The night got worse when he tried to kiss me. Much like I did on our first date, I told him that I wanted to take things slowly and didn’t want him to be the rebound guy. He then started negotiating like we were 15, and he was trying to get me to have sex with him for the first time:

“Just a little kiss. It’s not a big deal.” It is to me.

“A kiss isn’t taking things quickly.” At our age, a kiss rarely stays at just a kiss for very long. Plus, isn’t the physical connection the easy part? It’s much tougher to find someone with whom I connect emotionally and intellectually.

“Do you not believe in PDA?” Yes, if I’m comfortable with someone.

“Relationships are about compromise.” But we aren’t in a relationship yet…

“Are you a prude?” I tried not to laugh out loud at this. The boy has no idea what I freak I can be…with the right person.

The prude comment really made me feel like I was 15 again. It got worse when he cornered me outside of the bathroom on our way out of the restaurant and kissed me. He didn’t ask if that was okay. He just did it. I went along somewhat reluctantly.

The seven-second kiss was one of the worst kisses of my life. Brooklyn Boy kisses with the FLAT part of his tongue. He doesn’t use the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t maneuver the flat part of his tongue gently. He just came at me like a hyperactive dog. Ugh!

To make the evening even more bizarre, Brooklyn Boy relayed a Woody Allen joke to me… about rape. If you care, read the section about Harlene Rosen here. Rape is never funny. After he saw my reaction and I emphatically stated, “That’s not funny,” he apologized. I accepted his apology, but it just didn’t seem sincere. I felt like he really didn’t get how inappropriate it was to relay that story. Period.

I ended the night, thinking that I might see Brooklyn Boy again. (I know. I need to make better guy choices.) But, after sleeping on the prude question and rape joke, I realized that I don’t care to see him again. I don’t know if he doesn’t respect women or just doesn’t get them, but either is a deal breaker for me.

He contacted me this week, and I wrote back an e-mail that I just didn’t feel comfortable with some of the comments that were made and wished him the best in 2009. He then asked me to tell him what he said. I kept my response brief (asking me if I was a prude because I didn’t want to kiss you and telling the Woody Allen rape joke made me feel uncomfortable), and he wrote the following:

“Boy was I misunderstood. The Woody Allen joke was something I had heard and wasn’t my invention. I thought I had put forth the disclaimer and apology once you stated that you worked with abused women. I know it’s a serious matter…Please contact me again. Go with what you felt when you talked to me not what you added to the event which took place in your memory. I really do like you and would like to see you again.”

Wow! So, if you didn’t come up with the joke and apologize afterwards, that makes it OK? And, I had to try not to laugh that he’s making it sound like he’s misunderstood and that my memory is faulty.

I actually don’t disagree with his take on what was said, but I don’t care to engage him further. He clearly doesn’t get that it was wrong to relay the joke at all. I sent him a one-liner asking him to respect that I don’t care to communicate further to which he wrote me back another long paragraph. I’m not replying anymore. How much do I have to say to a guy who made me buy my own dinner, thought it was acceptable to tell a joke about rape, and kissed me with a flat tongue when I didn’t even want to be kissed :p?