Tag Archives: men

Three Men and a Wedding

2 Nov

Three handsome men with me on the dance floor: My son, in his tiny collared shirt and necktie. My partner, D, slightly intoxicated, ignoring the watchful eye of parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts who’d just met him for the first time, and Y, whom I introduce to people as my brother,  though there is no blood connection between us.

My sister got married last night. White gown, hair and makeup, 300 guests, candles and  fancy tablecloths and everything. She was gorgeous, the groom was handsome. The ceremony was lovely. The food was delicious. My son, walking before her in his fancy little outfit, and a basket of rose petals, it was all perfectly out-of-a-magazine, predictably beautiful. I was happy to be there with her. Happy that she was happy.

I can’t get emotional over weddings anymore. I just can’t. Even if it is my own sister. Something in me stopped believing long ago that this thing we do, this expensive social obligation – that it means anything more than what it is to me, a costly party. I know I had one. I know I wanted one. So there’s no judgement here. It’s hard to not want something you’ve been told you wanted throughout your entire life.

We’re structured so that we are always thinking about our next step. After all, life is the journey from one climatic event to the other, with a bunch of boring shit in between. I think my sister and her husband have a good shot at “making it”. They’re a good couple. They’re going to have children, they’ll be a family. My best wish for them is to have what I didn’t. I know it’s what they want. She’ll get pregnant, she’ll have a husband who won’t leave her side, who frets about how she’s feeling and meets her every craving. She’ll have a healthy baby in a painful messy birth, she’ll become blind to the world and only see her baby’s needs and have her marriage take a blow. But her marriage will be strong enough to make it, she and her husband will bounce back and remember one another. They’ll have sex at least once a week. They’ll raise well behaved children that can be left with their grandparents so they can take some time off. The kids will grow older, they’ll grow closer again.

I wish for my sister all of that. I wish for her to trust her man, I wish for her to not be let down, to not be disappointed, to not have her heart shattered and her trust in men broken.

But, if somewhere down the road her heart is broken – then I wish for her exactly what I have. An amazing son, the best friends you could wish for, and, well, love – in all its forms.

We were dancing last night, my son and I, with my awesome girlfriends, whom I can always count on to stand (or dance) beside me when I need them. At one point I found myself suddenly surrounded by my three favorite men, my son was really going nuts on the dance floor, jumping and laughing and man, let me tell you, he’s one hell of a dancer for being only three and a half! Then there was Y, goofing off with us, making my boy laugh, and D, on his day-view, having just met my parents and 300 of their closest acquaintances. The music was loud and not to my taste, but we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and I thought, how special it is to be surrounded by the three people in my life who’ve helped me restore my faith in men.

So I ended up getting a little emotional after all. I guess, it doesn’t matter what ceremonies you choose to ornament your life with. It’s who’s there beside you at those moments. I felt beautiful last night, with my hair and my makeup, and my awesome dress. I danced, with all my favorite people. But most of all I felt loved last night. And I guess that’s what I really wish for my sister.

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Insecurities and Meltdowns

4 May

My insecurities got the best of me the other day. Missing M horribly, crying nonstop, panicking about everything and anything. I finally cracked and went berserk on D. Just like I had told myself I wouldn’t.

If he only says I love you in response to me saying it, how can I be sure he really means it? I was going nuts imagining how he’d be off soon enough leaving me, alone once again, surprised and insulted, unloved for months without having suspected.

I was sobbing hysterically when I finally decided to text him. It was one of those things you don’t think through, and you kind of know that if you did – you’d stop. But it was a mistake I wanted to make, moreover, it felt like something I needed to do, so badly that it would be a mistake not to.

I was straightforward. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but at least there was no beating around the bush. He responded clearly: He loved me. He thought I was incredible. I gave him things that had been missing from his life for years. He wished he could say something more to convince me that that’s how he felt.

I took a screenshot. I would have to reread this message in the future. I said: Thank you. I’ll try to remember that.

Then he came over and we had sex and went to the Robbie Williams concert which was awesome. By the time we got back home, it felt like things had gone back to normal between us, and I thought to myself, it’s not such a high price to pay, my emotional meltdowns, to be with me. I’m kind of a catch.

My Marvelous Monday Evening Rondevouz

24 Dec

master and margarita

Master and Margarita, is THE book to be reading together, naked, in bed, after sex, with a cute Russian man by your side. Just in case you were looking to make plans for a weeknight, I highly recommend hiring a sitter, going out to dinner, watching Lonely Island clips on Youtube, having sex, and reading Russian literature together.

It sure beats the hell out of dinner and movie.

The L Word

6 Dec

Sex makes me very emotional. The better it is, the more emotional I get. And so was the outcome last night.

We’d just shared an amazing sex session, wrapped in each other’s arms, still breathing heavily, when I said: “Don’t freak out. I love you.” I wasn’t panning on being the first to say it. But fuck it. I really wanted to say it and I wasn’t in the mood to restrain myself.

His response came quickly, almost as if he’d rehearsed it. “I think you’re amazing. I love being with you.” Then he held me tightly, so tightly that it was difficult to breathe. And he said, “It’s too early for me to say that.”

“I didn’t say it so you’d say it back.” I lied.

“I know.” He lied back.

Then we kissed and made out, and put it behind us. And it seemed to be OK. We spent the night together and had coffee in the morning, and told eachother what a good time we’d had. And made plans to meet again tonight.

And now, we’ll see.

Gone Girl

3 Dec

I’ve stepped over the edge. Gone girl.

The adrenaline rush every time he calls. The weakness in the knees when he’s near me. And thinking about him constantly. And daydreaming. And wondering when he’s going to tell me that he loves me. And wondering if I can hold off and not be the first to say it.

Holding him, and feeling like everything’s going to be OK. Listening to his stories about his family, things he’s seen and done and felt, and longing to hear more, to know everything there is to know about this man. And admiring his strength, his commitment, his sense of humor, his intelligence, his sensitivity, his subtility.

And recognizing in him the same fragility that I have in me, the insecurity that comes after betrayal. And wanting to make it go away by loving him.

A Glimpse into a Highliy Desirable Future

28 Nov

I wanted to invite him over when I was doing well. When I didn’t have  a a cold, and my boy was not feverish, and I hadn’t had a crazy day at work and sat in traffic for hours. I wanted him to come over when I was home alone, when I could cook us a fancy meal and open up a bottle of wine, and wear make up and a flimsy dress, and light candles, and feel attractive.

But at the end of the day I had, feeling defeated and lonely, when he asked if I wanted a hug, I said yes. Yes to a hug in sweats. Yes with the dishes unwashed. Yes without makeup. Yes with checking in on my boy every half hour to make sure his fever wasn’t going up again.

He wore sweats too. And when he came in I just held him, for a long time, standing by the door. His hands were on my back, touching my shoulders, then in my hair, and when I pulled back, he pulled me in for a kiss, a nice, warm, long one, by the open front door.

Later, on the sofa, we sat and chatted about our day. His daughter, almost two, had also had a fever and been sent home from daycare. Now she was with her mom. I told him about my boy, and the driving him to his grandparents in traffic, and going to work, and visiting M, and wanting to fix things that couldn’t be fixed.

Then he said he was hungry and I whipped something up and went in to check on my boy while he ate, and then we were on the sofa again, and he was rubbing my feet, and his touch was so soft and tender, that I wanted to cry.

With a sick child in the other room, with sweats, and no makeup, we went into my room to have the most comforting quiet sex you could possibly have, with someone you’ve only known for a couple of weeks, and do not allow yourself to fall for just yet. I had planned for alcohol and sexy outfits and fireworks, but as we lay in bed later, holding each other, I realized we both still had our socks on, and that was just fine.

I had an image then, of life with a partner. For the last two years I’ve been pretty much convinced that living with a partner was not for me. That a boyfriend would suit me fine, but that I would always need my own space, that I would never like someone enough to want to share my space with them. Now, I had a glimpse of a life, where things were not always sexy and glamorous. But how amazing it would feel to have someone there with me to share the ups and downs, and have quiet sex with, while my sick son was sleeping off his fever.

This was Wednesday. And in case you’re wondering, last night was my night off, and it was complete with dining, and wining and sexy outfits and candles. And it was delicious! But something about lying on the sofa with him, and having him rub my feet with the fuzzy socks on and tell me about his day, was nonetheless spectacular.

Ode to Online Dating

2 Nov

I met him online, we chatted for a while

He likes awesome music and knows how to make me smile

Spent hours on the phone with him, like I was 16

Sent him links to songs I like, stared hours at the screen

We spent an awesome evening, playing music at the park

My heart skipped a beat when he kissed me in the dark

I know I barely know him, I should probably take it slow

Instead I just forget myself and go with the flow

My phone hums, my heart skips a beat

It might be the man I’m waiting to meet

He’ll send me a short silly nonchalant text

I’ll read between the lines, and figure out the rest

My phone hums, he wants us to meet

Tonight at the park, my heart skips a beat

I’ll talk about all kinds of things he doesn’t understand,

He’ll play me that song I like, he’ll take me by the hand

I spent the night at his place, I wore that skimpy dress

My face and hair were perfect but my heart was a mess

I know I barely know him, I should probably take it slow

Instead I just forget myself and go with the flow

My phone hums, my heart skips a beat

It might be the man I’m waiting to meet

He’ll send me a short silly nonchalant text

I’ll read between emoticons, and figure out the rest

My phone hums, I check it right away

Been hours since he wrote me last, I’m going insane

I’ll read between the lines, I’ll see what isn’t there

I’ll answer with a winky face, not showing that I care