Stef Woods

The Bald Truth

She looks in the mirror and doesn’t recognize her own reflection.  She’s bald.  The bags under her eyes display how little sleep she has gotten over the past few months.  She undresses and sees her curves.  Since her diagnosis, she’s gained 15 pounds, which is unfortunately the norm for her type of cancer.  Much like the sky on a gray day in winter, there is no beauty to be found here.

Once a week or so, she logs onto Facebook to look through her old photographs.  She smiles at first, feeling nostalgic, before the tears begin to stream down her face.  There was a time when she was the girl with the striking red hair.  There was a time when she could see her godson whenever she wanted without risking an infection that could delay her treatment.  There was a time when the majority of her social life didn’t consist of regular visits to the Chemotherapy Room.  There was a time when she wasn’t:

Cancer Girl.

She’s prided herself on being able to process her emotions and then move past them, but that’s become tougher.  The fatigue, the steroids, the pain, early menopause and how much her life has changed have taken their toll.  She wants her hair back, her body back and her old life back. 

People ask her if treatment is working, and that’s a question that she won’t be able to answer anytime soon.  See, she has an aggressive type of cancer that was caught at the earliest possible stage.  With this type of cancer, there’s a high risk of a metastatic recurrence (also known as stage four cancer or the party is probably over) within five to ten years.  She’s following the protocol that has been shown to drastically reduce her risk of recurrence, but only time will tell whether treatment has been successful.

She confesses that she has had a few pity parties since she started chemotherapy.  But, then, the clouds part, and the sun returns.

She receives a call from a friend who has found a breast lump and wants to know what to do.

She puts on some lingerie before her man arrives and reminds herself that she doesn’t need to feel sexy to be sexy.

An old family friend writes her that she’s getting her first mammogram in over 20 years.

A man opens up to her about how breast cancer has affected him.

She gets involved in a project to raise awareness and funds for breast cancer prevention, research and education.

People – with and without cancer — approach her on the street and thank her for being brave enough to go out in public bald.

She realizes that she will be a stronger advocate against the use of carcinogens in sex toys because she has had cancer.

Strangers send her messages that they’ve started doing breast self-exams or scheduled their first mammograms after reading her blog.

If her experience can be about more than just her, then how can she cry for that long?  This is part of God’s plan.  She silently repeats Joyce Meyer’s quote:

The opposite of fear is faith.

She dries the few tears that have fallen down her cheeks and prepares to go for a short walk.  There will be bad days until she’s done with treatment in March, but today is a good day.  And, she trusts that there will be many, many more good days in her future.

For that, she is grateful.

Friends With Benefits

When I woke on that early August morning, I texted Best Boy:

So…I had a VERY hot dream about us last night.

Best Boy: Really?!?

Me: Yep.

Best Boy: What do you think that means?

Me: I guess that means that you’re right.  That I want to be with you…

Best Boy: Hmm

Me: What are you doing tonight?

Best Boy: Not sure.

Me: Want to come over then?  No more teasing ;).

Best Boy: Sounds good.

When Best Boy arrived at my place later in the evening, everything just felt easy and sweet.  There was a lot of kissing and holding each other close.  (After sleeping with guys like "Buckeyes" Boy and Mr. Exec, it was refreshing to be with someone who wasn’t so dominant in bed.)  Best Boy was affectionate and romantic, and that was just what I needed five days after surgery.

Best Boy was caring and nurturing, as he made sure that I got the attention it deserved without putting pressure on my right breast.  There wasn’t any of that awkwardness that can happen when you have sex with a friend, when it’s your first time with a partner, or when you’re somewhat limited as to the positions.

Afterward, Best Boy held me close or spooned me for most of the night.  When morning came, so did we – again.  I looked at him, smiled and said:

I’m really liking our friendship with benefits!

When Best Boy left an hour later, I realized something.  I hadn’t thought of Mr. Exec the entire time.  Mr. Exec happened to call the following day, but I couldn’t have cared less.  My chapter with Mr. Exec was closed.  But, a new chapter with Best Boy was only just beginning…

In Full Effect

The weekend prior to my surgery, Mr. Agency and I had planned to get together.  It was tough to coordinate our schedules, though, since his work frequently required him to attend late-night meetings and events.  Mr. Agency suggested meeting at 10:00pm on Saturday night.  I didn’t particularly want to go out that late so I asked if he just wanted to come over for a drink.  (My friend, Autumn, was going to be staying the night, which helped to ensure that drinks wouldn't lead to more than that.)

When Mr. Agency arrived at my apartment, I remembered why I was attracted to him in the first place.  His smile lit up the room, and his energy was contagious!  I poured him a beer, and then we sat in my living room, chatting about every topic imaginable.

Talking to him was easy, and there weren’t any awkward pauses in the conversation.  He was a sports fan like me, an only child and Christian.  He also had family in New York City and enjoyed traveling. The more I learned about him, the more I wanted to know. 

Mr. Agency could tell a story with perfect comedic timing, and he made me laugh out loud — a lot.  When the clock struck midnight, he respectfully said that he should call it a night.  I walked out with him to say goodbye.  While we were in the driveway, Autumn arrived, and we all conversed for a few minutes.  She headed upstairs so I could walk Mr. Agency to his car.

I had figured that Mr. Agency would try to kiss me.  (This had been the third night that I had seen him, after all.)  But, to my surprise, he didn’t!  He just gave me a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.  Before getting in his car, he said:

You’re awesome.  I hope that we can do this again.

Me [smiling]: So do I.

I walked back to my place, thinking to myself how refreshing it was that a guy didn’t rush to make the first move.  My friends had told me that Mr. Agency was a good guy, and they were right!

Three days later, I had surgery to remove the two cancerous areas in my breast.  I spent hours in the hospital, texting Mr. Exec.  That part of me that wanted to believe Mr. Exec was a decent guy hoped that he would follow through on his promise to be there for me.  But, as anyone who has read the posts about him knows, Mr. Exec was only there for Mr. Exec.

Following surgery, I received three calls from guys:

1) One from Mr. Exec, claiming he was too busy with work to come by that evening.  Work actually ended up being a friend's birthday party;

2) One from Mr. Agency; and

3) One from Best Boy, Mr. Exec’s best friend.

Mr. Agency checked in on me to see how the surgery went and ask if I needed anything.  I thanked him and let him know that I was all set.  I suggested that we get together the following week after I recouped, and he liked that idea.

When Best Boy called, he said:

I’m on 66, heading into the city.  Since I’m close to your place, I wanted to see if you needed anything.  If so, I can pick it up and drop it off.

Me: I’m good, but thanks for offering!  I really appreciate it.

I heard from Mr. Agency and Best Boy in the same day (the day after Mr. Exec called) and thought to myself:

When the chips are down, you know who your friends are.  Mr. Exec had promised to be there for me, but even though we had been sleeping together, he didn't follow through.  Then, two guys who I had never even kissed offered to help me just because they are good guys.  What kind of guy do I want to be with as I'm fighting cancer?

It was at that moment that I knew with 100% certainty that I would never be with Mr. Exec again.  My “No Dickheads During Cancer” rule was in effect.  I wasn't necessarily looking for a serious relationship during treatment, but it was (high) time that I let a caring guy into my life.

Required Reading

I was a bit surprised when one of the owners of Lotus Blooms gave me a book to review, rather than a product.  But, after reading Violet Blue’s The Smart Girl's Guide to the G-Spot, I’m very glad that she did!  Sex educator and best-selling author Blue is an entertaining and effective writer.  Reading this book feels more like you’re talking to a close girlfriend than delving into a clinical sex guide.  It’s a fairly quick read, but it’s chock full of information!

At a time when there is much literature about whether the G-Spot truly exists, Blue states on page vii:

The G-spot is…a real, tangible thing, like my breast and your clitoris, and you can even see it.  But for some reason, lots of people seem to think that the G-spot is a myth.  Or a rumor…No – it’s a real thing, and it makes you come, hard, period.  No deep wisdom, soul-searching or goddess worship necessary.  But a little knowledge helps.

In imparting her knowledge to her readers, Blue looks at what the G-Spot is, what it isn’t, how it got its name, how to see it, and how to explore it with fingers, a fist, a toy and a partner.  The guide offers recommendations for toys and lube to harness the power of G-Spot and useful tips such as urinating before you begin G-Spot play.  The author also suggests positions for G-Spot pleasure during sex and devotes a whole chapter to how to tap into your ability to ejaculate or squirt.  The informative sections are interspersed with four pieces of erotica by Alison Tyler.  If you need to set the mood before having some quality time with yourself, these hot stories should do the trick!

This book is beneficial for first-timers, as well as those women who are already very familiar with their G-Spots.  As a testament to the book’s appeal, a girlfriend picked it up from my coffee table and plowed through two chapters while waiting for me to get ready.  The next time she was over, she asked where the book was so that she could read some more!

I love how Blue reminds her readers that it’s okay to listen to their bodies.  She encourages every woman to find her G-Spot, while acknowledging that some women prefer to orgasm clitorally or anally.  The author also addresses how some females don’t want to squirt or ejaculate.  It’s all about what feels good and right to each of us!

If I was teaching a course on The Female Orgasm, The Smart Girl's Guide to the G-Spot, would be required reading!  Turn off your laptop, your television and your phone for an hour or two and relax with this guide.  You won’t be disappointed, and for $14.95, you’ll definitely get your money’s worth!

I can’t give this book less than my full Five Squeals of Approval!

* Pursuant to FTC Guidelines, I received this book free of charge in exchange for more honest assessment of the product.

A Friendly Night

As my friend, T, and I arrived at Marvin, I caught her up on the latest with Mr. Exec and Best Boy.  Although Mr. Exec and I had yet to have our final conversation, the writing was on the wall that we wouldn’t be spending more time together.  In the midst of all the drama with Mr. Exec, I had somewhat surprisingly become friends with his best friend, Best Boy.  We would meet for drinks on occasion, attended the same events, and communicated regularly via email and text.

Me: He’s the complete opposite of Mr. Exec.  Everyone loves Best Boy because he’s such a great guy.

When Best Boy joined us at Marvin, the laughs and good conversation continued.  There was a DJ and dancing by the back bar that night so in the midst of all the activity, T managed to subtly send me a text:

He’s cute!

Me: You think so?

T: Yes. Much cuter than Mr. Exec.  You can tell he likes you.

Me: Likes me like that?  Really?  [She nods and smiles.]

(I hadn’t thought about the possibility of being more than friends with Best Boy since the night back in May when I had gone out on my fun, but bizarre, date with him and Mr. Exec.  After our dinner, I chose to get back together with Mr. Exec, and Best Boy and I remained friends.  And, yes, I appreciate that I might not have made the wisest choice.)

When we all finished our drinks at Marvin, I let Best Boy know that he could crash at my place.  (He lived 45 minutes out of the city, and there was absolutely no way that he should’ve been driving.)  Once we arrived at my apartment, I went to walk my dog, while Best Boy turned on the television. 

By the time I returned, Best Boy had fallen asleep on the couch.  He was fully clothed, and he had his body contorted in a position that would ensure that his neck was sore if he slept like that for more than 20 minutes.  I got ready for bed and then woke Best Boy.

Me: Let’s go to bed.

When I said that, my plan was in fact to get some sleep.  But, Best Boy had other ideas.  He kissed me gently on the lips and pulled me in toward him.  The evidence inside of his boxers indicated that Best Boy wasn’t so sleepy anymore!

Me: Go to sleep.

Best Boy: Why did you wake me up then?

Me: So you wouldn’t get a crick in your neck!

Best Boy: I don’t think so.  You’re always pushing the envelope.  Your texts.  [Pause.]  Your little pokes.

Me: You started the poking [on Facebook].  Come on.  We’re friends.  After everything that’s gone on with Mr. Exec and me, we can’t be anything more than that.

Best Boy: You keep saying that, but you don’t act that way.

Me: It’s us.  I was with your boy only a few weeks ago.  You’re still hanging out with Melanie*.

Best Boy: True.  But, you’ve gotten in my head.

Me [confused]: I have?

Best Boy: Of course you have.  You and your games.

Lying there in the dark, I thought about what he said.  I typically am not the one who plays games in a relationship.  But, with Best Boy, maybe I had been doing that?  He was the Good Guy to Mr. Exec’s Bad Boy.  He was the guy I could text and meet for a drink whenever I wanted.  He was the guy who was always good for a smile or a laugh.  I saw him as a friend, but given how much of a flirt I am, had I been leading him on?

Me: I hadn’t thought about it that way.  I’m sorry if I’ve been playing games with you, but I really just see us as friends.  I have way too much history with Mr. Exec, and you guys are best friends!  Even if we wanted something more, there’s no way that it could work.

I had hoped that we would just fall asleep, but Best Boy wasn’t of the same mindset.  Much of the next hour was spent convincing him that I didn’t want to sleep with him.  Best Boy respected the fact that I didn’t want to hook up with him, but he maintained that I should’ve left him on the couch so as not to torture him.

There was one point in the evening when Best Boy woke up and made another move on me.

Me [moving his hand away]: Let me sleep!

Best Boy [whispering in my ear]: If you just think of me as a friend, why are you turned on?

As I tried to fall asleep, I wondered the exact same thing.  In the morning, we woke up, and Best Boy apologized for not letting me sleep much.  I accepted his apology and kissed him on the cheek goodbye.  It was a long, crazy night, but in the light of day, Best Boy and I were still just friends.

* I gave Best Boy's girl the nickname of "Melanie." In retrospect, that might have been confusing since my web designer's real name is Melanie. They are not one in the same.

Up On The Roof

After meeting Mr. Agency at the Masquerade Party, we became friends on Facebook.  That led to an email exchange, and then we began texting each other. 

Mr. Agency: Will you be heading to the event at the rooftop on Wednesday?

I hadn’t planned to go.  But, I knew that two of my friends would be there and definitely wanted to see Mr. Agency.  So, I decided to purchase a ticket and let him know that I would be attending.

That afternoon, I found myself smiling, as I looked at the photo of us that was taken only a few minutes after we met.  In perusing one of Mr. Agency’s albums, I noticed two pictures of him with a good friend of mine, T. 

Since I didn’t know Mr. Agency well, I decided to do a bit of reconnaissance.  (With surgery less than a week away and treatment on the horizon, I didn’t need to date my usual narcissistic and controlling types.)  As it turned out, T has known Mr. Agency for almost a decade and had nothing but great things to say about him.  My friend, Misty, also concurred with T’s assessment.  I felt comforted by the fact that the seemingly warm and genuine guy that I had met at the party was just that! 

On Wednesday night, I arrived at the event and tried to look as sexy as I could in the 94-degree heat.  I said hello to some acquaintances before greeting Mr. Agency at the back bar.  He approached me with a huge smile, a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  He was with a colleague so we exchanged pleasantries about sports and politics.  Our conversation was easy, and I found myself smiling – a lot.

Mr. Agency and I thankfully managed to have a fair amount of one-on-one time at the event.  The topic turned to summer vacations, and he asked if I was heading out of DC at all.

Me: Well, not this summer.  I’m not sure if you saw on Facebook that I have breast cancer.

Mr. Agency: I did.  Will you be okay?

Me: Yes.  Everything was caught early, but I need a little surgery next week and then I’ll start treatment.

We talked for another minute or two about it, and that was it.  There had been a part of me that was hesitant to share what was going on with a man I didn’t know well, but I realized that it didn’t need to be a big deal. 

As the moon illuminated the rooftop and the drinks kept flowing, Mr. Agency and I talked and laughed with a few friends.  One of them brought up my blog and how she hadn’t expected it to be so racy.

Me [laughing]: I’ve heard that before.  Misty and I were at L2 one time, and these people were like, ‘How racy is it?’  Misty looked at them without blinking an eye and said, ‘I've learned a lot about anal from City Girl.’  They were speechless!

Mr. Agency laughed with the group, but it was far from the right time to ask him if he enjoyed anal as much as I did ;).  I wasn’t sure if he had looked at my blog before this evening, but I had to assume that he would check it out now.  And, although I hoped that he didn’t rush home to read about every past sexcapade, I was fine with him knowing about my site.

T and I decided to head out to get some food.  Before we left, Mr. Agency came up to me and said:

It was great seeing you tonight, but I hope that we can hang out alone next time.  Are you around this weekend?

Me [smiling]: Yes, I am.  I’d like that.

Mr. Agency: Good.  I’ll call you.

As T and I drove to Marvin, I received a text from Mr. Exec’s best friend, Best Boy.  (We had been texting each other earlier since he had been considering coming to the rooftop event.)

Best Boy: You still at the event?

Me: Just left.  Going to Marvin.  Where are you?

Best Boy: Ceiba.  [A restaurant that’s not far from Marvin.]

Me: Come by :).

Best Boy: Okay. Finishing my drink.

This night was far from over.

To be continued…

UTIs and You (or Your Partner)

Nothing says Hump Day like answering a Formspring question about UTIs (urinary tract infections)!  Now, before my male readers close this window, if you date women, you might find this information worthwhile, too.

With the disclaimer that I’m not a medical professional and that a woman should go to her gynecologist if she might have an infection, here goes:

Question: I’ve been in a serious relationship for six months.  I recently got my first UTI in two years. When I told my boyfriend, he made me feel bad about it because he doesn’t realize that it was caused by sex.  How can I talk to him about it?

Answer: I hope that you have already gone to your gynecologist to confirm that you have a urinary tract infection and obtain a prescription for antibiotics.  You should also drink lots of water and cranberry juice to help your bladder clear out and prevent bacteria from sticking to the bladder wall.  Most doctors recommend abstaining from sex during treatment for a UTI, but you should confirm that with your health care practitioner.

As the Mayo Clinic describes, it’s very common for women to get UTIs, and many will get more than one in their lifetime.  In addition, sexually active women are at higher risk for developing urinary tract infections.

Even though it might not be the easiest conversation to have with your boyfriend, it’s important to do so.  The situation is (unfortunately) likely to recur so not sayng anything now merely prolongs the inevitable.

Pick a time when you won’t be rushed and when sex isn’t expected.  Open with how you realize this isn’t a particularly fun topic to talk about and how your previous conversation made you feel.  Impress upon your boyfriend that this is a common occurrence for many women and how it can happen when you don’t urinate after you have sex.  Let him know that you are on antibiotics to treat the infection and that it’s not contagious.  Offer to email him information from any of the sites linked herein if he wants to read more about UTIs.  And, then ask him for his thoughts.

You should come up with something in your own words, but as an idea:

I felt hurt when I told you what was going on with my infection, and you intimated that it was my fault/were dismissive.  I had hoped that you would be more understanding.  Many women get UTIs, and sex is often the cause.  I'll try to be better about going the bathroom right after we have sex so this doesn’t happen again.  It’s not contagious or anything like that, but my doctor recommended waiting until I’m done with my antibiotics before having sex again so things can heal.  If you want me to send you some links to sites about this, I can.  So, what are you thoughts about this?

The average healthy guy doesn’t have to deal with UTIs so it’s not an issue that is going to be on his radar.  If I’m with a partner who wants to snuggle or talk for a while after sex, I let him know that I need to head to the bathroom quickly and why.  I don’t spell it out explicitly, but I’ll say something like:

I really want to continue this conversation/stay in bed, but let me quickly head to the bathroom so I’m not hurting tomorrow.

Most guys aren’t going to ask what I mean by that, and that’s fine.  It’s more important to me that I excuse myself for a few minutes and don’t have to worry about getting a UTI.

So, readers, what are your thoughts on this issue?  Did I miss anything?  xoxo

How Is Chemo Like Sex?

I find myself being able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I’m halfway through chemotherapy.  Halfway.  Three down and three to go.  The end is in sight.

How did my third round go?  It was…different.  I learned that my iron and red blood counts were low from hemorrhaging after my second round.  I needed five days of iron IVs, in addition to my normal three days of post-chemotherapy IVs, to try to bring my counts up before my next treatment.  Between the added IVs and the fact that my pressure was dangerously low at 63/44, my oncologist advised me to do a whole lot of nothing for ten days.  The hope is that all those IVs and taking it easy will help my counts increase. If they don't go up by November 22nd, my next treatment will be postponed.  Positive thoughts and prayers are currently being accepted since I don’t want my treatment to be delayed.

I’ve been thinking lately that chemotherapy and sex have a lot in common.  (Yes, you read that correctly.) 

Let me count the ways:

1. Everybody and every body are different.  I try to include disclaimers with every Sex Advice post that what works for one person in the bedroom might not work for another.  It’s important to know your body and listen to your partner’s body to ensure the best possible experience.

When it comes to chemo, oncologists prescribe different combinations of chemotherapy drugs, depending on the type of cancer, the severity or stage, and the patient’s health.  The same cancer can be treated in a variety of ways, and every patient responds uniquely;

2. You never know how long it’s going to last.  With sex, you don’t always know going in if it will be a quickie or a two-hour, multi-position marathon.  With chemo, some low-dose regimes are given every day in a row for only two or three weeks.  Stronger chemotherapy drugs are typically administered once every two or three weeks for a minimum of four rounds;

3. Hair matters.  In the bedroom, personal grooming south of the border is important.  Paging Model Boy…  With respect to chemo, it’s an unfortunate rite of passage if you are given a powerful form of chemotherapy that causes hair loss;

4. You might not be able to predict how you’ll feel afterward.  There’s no rhyme or reason as to why one person can feel perfectly content after a one-night stand or sex with an ex-partner, while another feels more negative emotions.  Biologically, women experience an endorphin rush after reaching orgasm, while men experience a reverse sensation and feel like sleeping.  How many times have you finished having sex and come out of the experience with a distinctly different take or energy level than your partner? 

Having chemo is very similar in this regard.  Two people can respond to the same treatment in very disparate ways.  One person can just feel tired after chemotherapy, and another person has every possible side effect;

5. The purpose varies.  Sometimes sex is just sex.  Sometimes sex is an expression of love.  Sometimes sex is a way to say, “goodbye,” at the end of a relationship.  And, sometimes, sex is like a drug.

Chemotherapy serves a variety of purposes, too.  For some, it provides hope, while for others, it’s used to prepare the body for transplants.  And, in the roughest of cases, it’s administered as a last resort; and

6. The Finish Line!  Hey, I’m not knocking the enjoyment to be had during the process, but don’t we all hope to cum by the time we’re done having sex?  It’s not called climax for nothing!  With chemotherapy, the finish line is also the goal.  All that matters is getting there.

How is chemo not like sex?

One is my favorite thing to do, and one is my least favorite thing to do.  But, I think that’s stating the obvious. xoxo

No Masks Required

I found myself at the Masquerade Party without a mask or the proper attire, but that didn’t stop me from having a fabulous night!  I was all smiles after meeting Model Boy, and I looked forward to getting to know him better as the evening progressed.

Given the crowd, it crossed my mind that Best Boy, Mr. Exec’s best friend, might enjoy the after-party.  (Now, normally birds of a feather flock together, but Best Boy is as kind as Mr. Exec is selfish.  Best Boy and I had never gone out on a date since our dinner at Ceiba with Mr. Exec, but we had kept in touch.  While I was still seeing Mr. Exec, Best Boy and I continued to text each other and even met up for drinks one night.  Best Boy stayed out of the drama with Mr. Exec, and I regarded him as a friend.)

Me [to Autumn]: What’s Best Boy up to tonight?

Autumn: I’m not sure.

Me: I wonder if he’s at another event near here.  Should we text him to see if he wants to swing by for the after-party?

Autumn texted Best Boy, and then we returned to our conversation with Sally and some other girlfriends.  (You might recall that Sally was on the receiving end of one of Mr. Exec’s drunk and belligerent tirades at the bar.)  I always enjoyed running into Sally at events since she was very nice and we had worked in similar fields.  I figured she knew that Mr. Exec and I had dated, but we never directly discussed that.  So, I tried not to let it catch me off guard when she said:

I texted Mr. Exec and told him that he should come.

Me [trying to keep a calm tone to my voice since I really didn’t want to see Mr. Exec so soon after our last evening together]: Oh.  Is he on his way?

Sally: No.  Once he heard some of the political bigwigs who were here, he didn’t want to.  You know how he gets if he’s not the center of attention.

Autumn and I just nodded our heads in agreement.  When Sally got up off the couch, Autumn and I laughed out loud.  Sally had summed up Mr. Exec perfectly!

A few minutes later, I noticed a man, standing near our group.  He was 6’2” with a medium black complexion and a build that was thick without being too thick.  His beautiful smile lit up not just his face, but also the room.  As I watched him, I realized how many people came up to him to say hello.  He looked familiar, and yet, I knew that we had never formally met.  When he smiled at me and walked over to the couch, I rose and introduced myself.  He replied:

It’s nice to meet you.  I’m Mr. Agency.

I tried to piece together who he was, and then it hit me!  He worked for the Administration and was a regular fixture on the charity and political circuits in town.  We talked for several minutes about the event, how I wasn’t wearing the proper attire, and how we felt like we had a lot of mutual friends in common.  (Facebook would later reveal that number of friends as 70!)

Mr. Agency: You don’t seem like the typical person to come to an event like this.

Me: Because I’m not a political groupie?

Mr. Agency [smiling]: Exactly.

Me: Well, I like politics, but I’m not here with an agenda.

Mr. Agency: I can tell.  [A woman approaches him and asks if he’ll take a picture with her.  He excuses himself and does that before returning to me.]  We should get a photo together.  Mind asking your friend to take one?

Me: Not at all.  [I hand Autumn the camera, as Mr. Agency puts his arm around me.]  It’s our first couple’s shot!  [We laugh, and the camera captures our cheesy smiles.]

We talked for a few more minutes before Mr. Agency handed me his card, telling me to stay in touch.  I definitely planned on doing so! 

I headed into the back room and found Model Boy with several of my friends.  (As it turned out, he and Sally already knew each other.)

While we were all talking, Best Boy arrived.  Autumn and I caught up with Best Boy before he and Model Boy began to chat.  It didn’t surprise me that the two guys hit it off famously, as they have very similar personalities.

Autumn: Did they [Model Boy and Best Boy] just exchange cards?

Me: I think so.

Autumn: What’s Mr. Exec going to say if he hears that you were hanging out with Model Boy?

Me: I don’t know.  But, he had his chance and blew it.  That’s not my problem.

Autumn: True.

When the clock hit two in the morning, it was late, and I was tired so I was ready to head home. But, would the night end there?

The Next Stage

The middle of July found me wondering if Mr. Exec and I could work in any capacity.  My uncertainty about what I wanted from Mr. Exec was put on the back burner, though, when I received a call from my breast surgeon.

A second area of cancer had been found.  There wasn’t a question that I would beat this, but a Stage One diagnosis at age 37 typically requires chemotherapy.  I also needed to have two more areas biopsied before surgery and treatment.

Although Mr. Exec and I texted for hours on end between my updated diagnosis and surgery, we never ended up seeing each other.  He claimed he was focused on work, but I knew it was more than that.  In his mind, I had insulted him by saying that we weren’t friends and that I didn’t value him outside of his abilities in bed.  (And, yes, I appreciate how ironic it was that Mr. Exec felt insulted by my behavior.)  I also tried to change our relationship mode, and a control freak like Mr. Exec will never comply with terms that he doesn’t set himself.

Somewhat surprisingly, I felt neither bad nor sad that I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks.  Yes, I missed the rush from sex with Mr. Exec, but I didn’t miss the drama, the games or the disrespect. 

My vulnerabilities did come into play on the day of my surgery, though.  I found myself back at Sibley Hospital with three procedures before the actual surgery.  As I sat in the waiting room, I recalled when Mr. Exec had left me a voicemail during my first set of biopsies, claiming that we would get through this all together.  And, then, I received a text from Mr. Exec that he was praying for me and hoped my surgery went well.

As I moved from procedure to procedure, Mr. Exec and I continued to text each other.  Our conversation provided a good diversion from the day's events, but it was also unsettling.  Mr. Exec insisted that he would have been there for me at the hospital, but for the fact that I wouldn’t let him.  Given how his words have never reconciled with his actions, that didn’t make sense.  But, sitting in a hospital gown being poked and prodded, I wasn’t able to see the situation that clearly at the time.

Following the surgery, Mr. Exec texted me several times to see how I was doing.  I definitely needed some help so I inquired as to whether I would be seeing him at all that week.  His response: I hope so.

Three days after my surgery, he called to check on me.  I had assumed that he would be going to an event downtown with some of our mutual friends, but he informed me that he had work to do that evening.

The following morning, I went on Facebook and saw that Mr. Exec’s work consisted of attending a friend’s birthday dinner and drinks.  (I guess we all define “work” differently.)  I proceeded to shake my head and roll my eyes at my laptop.

Mr. Exec texted me every day for the next three days to see how I was feeling.  I didn’t respond since I had nothing to say.  It simply wasn't worth trying to care about someone who didn't care about anyone but himself. 

After not hearing back from me, Mr. Exec called me on August 9th.

Mr. Exec: Good morning.  How are you?

Me: Okay. Thanks.

Mr. Exec: I’ve texted you several times to see how you were doing, but I never heard back from you.  I’ve been worried about you.

Me: I’m good.  Just recouping.

We repeated a similar conversation two more times since Mr. Exec was trying to figure out why I had ignored him.

Me:  I honestly wasn’t sure how to respond to your texts.  You had told me that you would try to stop by to check on me and that you weren’t going to the event last week because of work.  And, then I see that you went to a friend’s birthday. 

Mr. Exec: Umm…where did you see that?

Me: On Facebook.

Mr. Exec: But, you unfriended me…

Me: Yes, but we still have friends in common.  [Pause.]  It’s fine if you didn’t want to come by, but I’m not really sure why you just didn’t tell me the truth.

Mr. Exec [raising his voice slightly]: I called you to ask how you were doing.  I didn’t call about this kind of ‘fluff.’

Me [chuckling]: So…you lying to me is fluff?

Mr. Exec [raising his voice a little more]: Yes, it is!  I don’t need to explain myself or what I do to anyone!

Me [in a slightly sarcastic tone]: Oh, I know you don’t.

Mr. Exec: Are you being sarcastic?

Me: Yes, I am.

Mr. Exec: I called to find out how you were!  I don’t need to be bothered with this.

Me: Well, you wanted to know why I didn't text back so I'm telling you.

Mr. Exec [raising his voice even more]: You didn't respond to me because of that?  That's ridiculous!

Me: Not to me.  I'm actually on my way to an appointment, though, so we might just need to agree to disagree.  Hope you have a good day.

Mr. Exec [pausing]: You, too.  [Pause.]  Goodbye then.

Me: Bye.

That was the last time I spoke to Mr. Exec.  There was nothing more to say, and it was time for me to devote my energy to kicking cancer’s ass!  I had assumed that I would be doing that with my friends by my side and without a man in my life.

As luck would have it, though, only the first part of that sentence is true ;).