I know it’s time to shut down the dating apps for a while. There are truly no worthwhile choices and I’m making semi-poor decisions.
A talk with my friends/family led to me questioning the type of man I’m looking for AGAIN. They feel like I’m not giving the right guys a chance.
I don’t know why I listen. I’ve tried this before, more than once, and it’s always a fail. Always.
But I did it again. I chose a nice man. One who was clearly into me from the get-go. Good family background. A little far distance wise but not too far. A stable job, though perhaps not as ambitious as I would prefer. A Marine many years ago.
Chris agreed to drive over an hour to meet me for dinner and drinks. He was very communicative by text and was a pleasure to speak with on the phone. We had a few phone conversations that went exceedingly well – but I also recognize (in hindsight) it was because he just really liked me – everything about me. So he asked a lot of questions, got some of my funniest stories out of me and was paying a lot of attention. All the cues I love.
I realized that in person, even though the cues were all still there, it started to feel a little flat the longer I spent time with him. I’m not entirely sure why. He wasn’t as refined as I normally like, but that was ok. He likes a lot of the things I like and was super complementary of me. So I don’t know what I didn’t like exactly, but I could feel the undercurrent most of the evening.
We ate and drank a little more than I had expected to since this was a last minute date. He didn’t want to go home but I wasn’t going to invite him to my house because I just wasn’t sure about him. I had no issue bringing Mike back to my house after a later dinner so that’s what I mean about an underlying current of “not sure about this guy.” With Mike I didn’t want the night to end. With Chris I didn’t know what I was doing or why.
He found a hotel with a bar close by. He wanted to stay the night. I agreed. I’m starting to feel like a slut lately because it’s been a spinning wheel of men these past few weeks in my bed, and I’m pretty sure this was the last one for a while because I hit my breaking point.
Chris went in and got the room while I went to the bar. The hotel was new and pretty fabulous. We had one more drink and headed upstairs. I had no real investment in sleeping with him, sort of similar to Dan2.
Things got worse when he undressed and I’m not sure if this is something I would get past or not. He clearly used to be massively built and muscular, you could see by his shape and size, but he must have let himself go for many years and now his skin was hanging everywhere and he was heavier than he looked when dressed. All I could think about was “does my skin/body look like this to someone” and my mind wouldn’t stop whirring with that thought. If I felt like this about him, perhaps this is what some of those men felt about me. It made me very distracted. Because of this – I don’t know if I was put off by his shape or my own disgust with my body. I couldn’t suss our the difference. Even in hindsight as I’m writing this I’m not sure why it turned me off so much.
As I tried to focus I lost my desire. He went down on me and I came, uneventfully, but thankful that since I’ve been off the old meds that orgasms are easier than not. He wasn’t good or bad, he got the job done. But the sex, oh the sex, was just awful. Really and truly awful. Not the worst I had but absolutely bottom 3. It didn’t help he didn’t have very large equipment, luckily not as small as John2 because Chris didn’t know how to manage that the way John did. He just wasn’t any good and I couldn’t kick in enough to help make him any better. For one of the very few times in my life I lie beneath a man willing it to be over. That, my dears, is a truly awful feeling.
It also created a feeling of sympathy which does not belong in a bed.
I wish I had gotten up and out of that bed immediately following sex but I fell asleep, dammit. A few hours later, when I woke, he clearly wanted to go again. I’m not practiced enough in bad sex to know how to say “no thanks, no more” so I let him. What a mistake. It was even worse than the night before. I got frustrated after too long and made him stop before he came which I know was terrible – but he had been struggling over and over to ejaculate and there just wasn’t any pleasure in the work for me. I had to get out of that bed. And, I did. Got up. Got dressed.
He asked me to come back to bed so he could finish what we started. I wanted to die of embarrassment. I wanted to ask him if he had ejaculation problems in general but it didn’t matter. I knew he knew it was an issue because I could hear the sighs and sense his frustration as he tried to climax but couldn’t. I just could not entertain it any longer.
He insisted to walk me to my car as the guilt washed over me. I shouldn’t have slept with him. I should have ended the date at the restaurant and let it go. However, if I did that we probably would have gone on a second date because I did like him. But it wouldn’t have changed the end result of him just being horrible in bed. This was no case of nerves – he was just bad in bed.
I even feel bad for making the decision to sleep with him when I know he liked me more than I liked him. My friends are telling me he deserves a second shot – but why? I don’t understand why they would say that. I already know the next long term relationship I have must include being friends and lovers. I can’t go into a relationship based on having a nice guy.
What I have realized is that I need a little edge. Not too much but just a little. Too straight and narrow isn’t for me. I’ve said it before but if I don’t get the chemistry I need, I shut down any hope of it going any further.
This last date really showed me I have to stop. Take a break. I feel my desperation coming out which never leads to good decisions. Decisions such as sending Tony a text (I will write that post).
There were 2 additional men in the pipeline that I’m winding down speaking to. Will I meet them? I don’t know. The apps are now shut down for a minimum of 3 weeks. Maybe longer. We shall see but I will start there. Knowing the time limit I set for myself helps because I work best with tangible goals. This week I have already noticed the semi-relief I feel for not having to check the apps for potential matches and worry about starting up conversations all over again. It’s not like I don’t have a full life, even without working, I have plenty to keep me busy. I just need to remind myself that my Prince will come along in his own good time.