Slow Down and Reflect

A couple weeks back, I had 3 men on the hook that I had “met” before.

As it turned out, and sort of as I expected, I had never met Man #2, Glenn, and he finally realized it.  He was getting stranger and stranger the longer we communicated and I was trying to slow him down.  I was into meeting him but he pushed so hard that I eventually lost interest.  He was calling constantly, always on face time, and texting even more.  I told him on Saturday morning that I felt more comfortable cancelling our plans as I didn’t feel we were in the same space.  He said “fine” deleted me from Tinder and I never heard from him again.

That was fine, I cleaned my garage!

Man #3, Tony, was able to somehow make little butterflies start up in my tummy.  What is it that makes that immediate connection?  We spoke, text and agreed to meet.  I finally met him on Tuesday, midday for coffee, and was attracted instantly.  He was about 5’11”, all gray and had a rugged appeal.  His voice is awesome and he is super interesting.  When we left the coffee shop, I couldn’t get a read on him….I leaned in for a kiss and he gave me a fantastic tight hug and a soft kiss on the lips.

I text Tony later that day to say “thank you” and he replied that he also enjoyed meeting me.

And that was it….until I text him a good morning on Thursday. He replied that he was super busy and would call me later – which he did – but we didn’t connect until Friday at some point. He told me his weekend plans and then I didn’t hear from him again until Sunday night when I text him first again.

I was already beginning to feel frustration at his communication style. But when I spoke to him there was no reason for me to believe anything other than he was busy doing whatever he was doing and he didn’t particularly like text. He text and called on Monday and asked to see me Thursday and communication was quite light other than making definitive plans.

I am struggling with Tony for no really good reason according to my friends. I have a hyper drive communication style that Bennett fulfilled for almost two years and it’s really hard to adjust to so much less from Tony, even before our first date. Or am I just making excuses that Tony isn’t Bennett? I know I am still mourning, but it’s time to move forward.

There is one other man in my queue, Andrew. We made lunch plans for Tuesday this past week – he asked me – and then he never checked in with me to confirm the date. I didn’t hear from him again until yesterday and he apologized that I thought the plans were firm when he thought they were tentative. Hmmmm….I looked back at the text and don’t agree there should have been any confusion. Either way he asked me out again so we shall see.

I am not happy. So little makes me smile these days. I am stressed over work and the impending loss of my role and the fact I have two college tuitions to pay in August. I am scared to death. Everyone says don’t worry because I have landed on my feet before, but I don’t ever recall being so physically scared of my future. There are more days I want to shut it all down than I want to open my eyes. I have never thought I’m better off dead until now. I have no intention of hurting myself – but it doesn’t prevent the feeling of utter and total failure.

It’s hard to keep waking up every day and putting on foot in front of another to be strong. Strong for my. Children, my team, my friends. Strong enough to get through this. I’m just tired. I know all the things I should be doing and I even know how to do them because I have overcome adversity and struggle before. This time I can’t seem to get there.

Rinse and Repeat

I thought I would get to this post sooner!

There must be some weird cosmic thing happening lately for me – I am seeing “signs” everywhere, but don’t know what to make of them all.

This past week on Tinder, I came across three men whom I have met before.

None of which I remembered.

The first I had previously called The Boxer. Last week I pulled two posts from my old blog to share here. We dated and had sex and I suppose I never heard from him again, or I never cared. I was not ready to be having sex with others when I met him, that much I recall as clear as day. I don’t recall the man at all, but I vividly recall how I felt in the aftermath of having sex post Bobby. It was pretty ugly for a while.

When we matched on Tinder he reminded me we had met before and asked to move to text so I agreed, curious to hear my own story which I had clearly forgotten. He said he wanted to take me out and he would tell me the story over drinks. I found it so strange I just couldn’t place him no matter how hard I tried. Photos, cues, nothing was ringing a bell for me. Then it dawned on me that I had blogged everything during the first two years of my separation… I went back and found him (and subsequently shared those posts last week).

He was very chatty and keen to take me out this past week. But, as soon as I told him I did, in fact, remember (which I really didn’t remember him at all, but after reading my post, I recalled the events – that’s really telling me there is no value in meeting this man again – I mean, we had decent sex and I don’t recall what he’s like!).,,,sorry, diverted….once I remembered he literally stopped texting with me immediately. Haven’t heard from him in a week.

Man #2 is another man I met on Tinder who reminded me we had met. We also moved to text because at this point I’m thinking, this has to be impossible that I have blacked out on my sex phase or post-Bobby phase – this can’t be normal? Glenn reminded me where we met and who I was with and none of it sounded familiar, but things about him personally DID sound familiar so I was confused. The long and short of it, he was also keen to take me out this week and we made plans – honestly, more out of curiosity – how is it possible this happens twice in one week? As the week progressed and we spoke I had a strong indication of why I wouldn’t have pursued anything with him the first time around, He was really on a different speed than me and we will most likely frustrate one another. He finally admitted to me this evening he realized it wasn’t me he met (I had already arrived at that conclusion) and he was worried I wasn’t really interested in meeting him. I explained I didn’t think we were a match and why, but I was still open for a drink the next evening since we had made the plans – as long as it was clear there should be no expectations. So…Saturday drinks it is – with the man I never met, but probably did communicate with and eliminated in a past trial.

Man #3 is a lovely surprise. I truly don’t know what it is. Something in the photo at first, then the text, and finally and surely in the voice. *Boom* little butterflies appear. Tony told me I spoke to him 18 months ago when he was finalizing his divorce and told him he wasn’t ready … and call me later! Lol. Sure enough we connected again, although I truly don’t remember ever connecting with him in the first place, we certainly hit it off this time. We spoke on and off all day today. I really hope I hear from him again tomorrow. I don’t know what makes that initial chemistry, but it really has a mind of its own and shows up when its ready.

I am not sure I am ready, I am still weepy and I still want Bennett back every day. I did break and text him last week and we have had intermittent contact. If there was a way for him to help me, he would, but he knows that opening the lines of communication again only hurt me and as soon as we fall into “normal sharing conversation” I begin to feel the sadness well up for how much I miss him. Losing a lover is hard, losing a real friend, even worse.

Old Stories

So….I have been speaking to a man that I cannot even recall meeting.

I fell asleep earlier tonight and just woke with the realization I blogged about EVERY sexual encounter in 2014/2105……

And I found him – The Boxer.

Long read ahead but will explain more tmrw;

From January 2015

Part 1 / The Boxer

Some days a girl is just lucky.

I have been back on Tinder and another app, called Bumble.  On Bumble the men are significantly better looking and generally more educated.  It’s like a Tinder upgrade.  The trick to Bumble is that the woman must write first and within 24 hours or the match disappears.  I get plenty of matches but the hit rate of replies is probably just a tad above Tinder’s hit ratio.

In any case,  I matched with a handsome lawyer/novice boxer from close to home.  This will work while I’m not working, but I don’t know how well we would manage time together once I’m back to work in a couple weeks.  No matter, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Let’s call him The Boxer.

I liked his quick wit and sense of humor immediately.  Some people are just good with communication and the banter is easy, so we made a date for Tuesday at a bar local to my home.

As you already know, the whole physical attraction thing, including a mans height, tends to be an immediate attraction or deterrent for me.  His photos were very attractive and, in one, he had a shirt on so similar to the Cowboy, that I saw some resemblance.  I think it was the shirt and full head of hair as he is no where near as handsome (to me) as the Cowboy.  He is 5’11, which is ok, not great, not awful.  I stand taller with most of my heels, but he is broad shouldered so that helps somewhat.

We met at a bar that R and I often frequented and had some fabulous evenings of fun and laughter.  I was slightly disappointed when I saw him in person as he didn’t really resemble the photos and made me think that the photos were older and perhaps run through a filter.  No matter, his smile was easy and his bright blue and conversation was engaging.

We chatted for a few hours, mostly about family.  I can’t say what type of impression I walked away with – it was neither good nor bad – it was ok.  He has a very young child that seems to be a handful and, frankly, I wasn’t particularly interested in hearing about his antics.  That’s a first for me and obviously some impact from the Cowboys lack of children.  I was previously more attracted to a man with a child, but now I think I prefer a man with an older child and not such al little guy.  As Ann reminded me, I am getting ahead of myself again.

The date ended and he gave me a quick peck on the lips as he departed.  Awkward kiss at best, it wasn’t natural at all.  Though his lips were quite soft.  He apologized later for being nervous.  He said he hasn’t kissed anyone new in a very long time.  He is 3 months out of a 2.5 year relationship with a woman in her twenties – though he won’t tell me just how old she was.  He likes significantly younger woman, so I don’t know why I have impressed him…but I tend to think he realizes what he wants in a relationship is not going to happen with a younger woman – they just don’t have the life experience and often want a family.

He has been texting good morning and a bit each night and we are due to go out again this evening.  He hints at an undercurrent that I enjoy, but doesn’t cross the line or elaborate.  I am curious enough to find out.

Part 2/ The Boxer

Tears and Sex Just Don’t Jive For Me

I bet you can’t wait for the post in which we celebrate the passing of the Cowboy. At this point, I can’t wait for the end either.

I’m sure it’s ahead but it’s still seems very far away to me.

Both of my therapists have independently advised me to accept the grief. To find time for the tears and let them come unfettered.  I have been embracing that theory all week and have been crying a bit more.

But tonight it seems a flood is happening.

I had a date with the Boxer. He was attentive via text all day and indicated his excitement to see me. I had a rough day for other reasons but was looking forward to getting out.

The date was fine. Conversation was ok. He gave me some good (and free) lawyerly advice. But there’s no spark.

We left the restaurant and made our way to my home. I was alone for the evening.

The real tell was the first kiss. Nothing. Nada. He was a terrible kisser. I am always afraid of a bad kisser as a portent for what follows.  He doesn’t use his tongue and I’m all about those big open-mouth full of tongue kisses.  My kisses are hot and lusty, full and aggressive. He was tentative, meek and slow and no tongue.

Didn’t stop me from moving to the next stage. I had worn a dress and crotch less panties and his hands found their way in. Before I knew it, his mouth was on me. Now – that was better than the kiss on the lips and I knew I would be able to cum.  It was relatively quick and easy and very pleasurable. No fireworks but who complains about any orgasm?!

He is truly a boxer so his body is like a brick – totally solid. But he is overall slim and I wonder if he was a little skimpy when he wasn’t muscular. The muscles in his back and shoulders were lovely to hold onto though. He also has a luscious full head of hair that I got to keep my hands in and pull during my orgasm.  He said he loved it.

We moved from the couch to the bed and he undressed himself quickly.  I undressed myself and crawled beside him. He was keen to fuck so I agreed.  His size was average at best but he was rock solid with excitement. He did all the right things, said all the right things, but horror of all horrors happened to me (and this never ever happens) – I began to dry out. I quickly grabbed the lube before he realized what was going on and switched our positions.

I think this is when everything went way south for me. He asked me to climb on top. A little history lesson here – I used to hate being on top. R used to be so encouraging that I was willing to attempt it once or twice for his pleasure but I was still uncomfortable (with my body, what to do, the whole thing).  But…being on top kind of became a steady tool in the Cowboys Arsenal. To the point where he was insistent on figuring out how to make me cum while on top. Over time with the Cowboy it became one of best and most successful positions. It was sexy, lusty, fun and fruitful for both of us. The Cowboy tried so hard to please me in every position, but this was one he was most proud of “unlocking”.

I figured I was now comfortable and capable in this position and I climbed on top of the Boxer and slid him in effortlessly.  And he laid there. He’s not big enough to hit my cervix like the Cowboy so that stimulation was lost, but he didn’t help his own case.  I tried to find the right purchase and get the motion and I got close, I could have worked pretty hard and gotten to a climax but I was almost distressed at this point being reminded of the Cowboy…so I did the worst disservice to myself and faked enough pleasure sounds to make him think it was all that.

I asked him to take me from behind, knowing this was one position even a less lengthy cock could feel pretty good…but he chose to lay me flat on my stomach where I am basically unable to move.  I didn’t even feel much thrust.  Luckily it was over quickly enough.

He quickly jumped up to go to the bathroom and I was so relieved because I burst I to full on tears – my face was down in the pillow and he couldn’t see anyway but still. I know this happened with Mr Dull but this was a much more significant tearful reaction.

I’m glad he left quickly after. There was 5 minutes of a cuddle and he was calling for his uber. He has a big trial tomorrow and I knew he was quite anxious as the prep work.  The moment he was out the door the tears flowed and didn’t let up for 3 hours.

I didn’t realize the position would be such a significant trigger on top of my already fragile emotional state.

This was another throwaway sex session just to keep moving on from the Cowboy. While I’m not sure I hear from the Boxer again (there was no Good Morning text this morning, interestingly enough, despite promises to see me before he travels), I don’t think it’s worth his energy or mine for something. I’m not finding any sort of fulfillment in.  It’s nice to have a little attention during the day and a dinner date is fun but I’m not attracted to him enough on any level to continue.

Losing a Job

I guess I never posted about Bennett losing his job in early February – so this post is well out of sequence but shows how my head and heart started to truly grasp the truth of my dead-end situation with Bennett

Feb 2018

I went through it two years ago this May. And it sucks. It’s not anything I would ever wish on anyone.

But I learned something about myself in May 2016. I was way stronger and more resilient that I have myself credit for.

I was reminded of my own strength when Bennett was unable to make the break from his family. As I listened to his “reasons” (I was tempted to call them excuses, but they were not. He had reasons for staying and excuses for not leaving if that makes any sense). I recall listening to him telling me “things were different in his situation” and I remember thinking to myself: he just doesn’t have the courage.

I learned a lot about both Bennett and myself during that time. I learned I loved him more unconditionally than I thought possible. And I learned that he would never leave, not for me, not for anyone or any reason. Some where in there I just learned it was never going to be possible for him and I learned acceptance.

Things have been neither here nor there with Bennett. I’ve been overwhelmed at work and I’m struggling. He’s been worried about work and his daughter and was distracted. We spoke but there has been distance. Not in a bad way. Just distance. Probably good for both of us. He doesn’t do well with stress or pressure. And I’ve learned that he can’t handle it very well, so I don’t create it.

Bennett lost his job early this week. In the moment he called me, I knew in my heart of heart this poor man wasn’t going to cope with what he was about to face.

I’ve been right. I’m fearful he will go off the deep end.

Bennett has had the same job for 26 years. First job out of college. Was married, had a family, both parents died during his tenure there, bought a house etc. His entire life was marked by this one job. He loved many of the roles he held there and actually was a pop culture influencer in the 90s which is super cool. But his last position has been tenuous since I met him 19 months ago.

If I ever had any questions about why Bennett couldn’t leave his family, they have all been answered this week. He is immobilized with fear. Self-loathing. Absolute embarrassment. Humidified. Horrified. Entirely unable to think or function. Complete and utter Despair.

I feel terrible for him. But watching the worst manifest – and I’ve seen all this before as it related to me, I just couldn’t “see” it because I was in it – seeing this puts everything in perspective.

Bennett met me in a period of sincere depression. Maybe even an almost manic period. I became a light at the end of a long dark tunnel he had been in for some time.

Every Little Bit Counts

So I realize my post about missing Bennett the other day sounds like I am consistently wallowing.

I really am not.

But the feelings at the time of the post are accurate. When the wave of longing for him hits – it hits hard and with a force that nearly propels me to reach out.

I have not learned how to control that force. I wish I knew what got me through the weekend without reaching out. But, somehow I did and I felt a bit of pride in doing so.

I admit that the longer it gets, the harder time I have not reaching out.

I met someone on line that I connected with quite easily. We had easy banter and fun conversation, though maybe a little on the dull side. I could talk to him for a while, until I was talking to myself more than not. He was interested, but he wasn’t engaged. But, because we hit it off, I agreed to a date.

At some point just before the date he asked a relatively probing sexual question. I can recall when I gave up those detail easily and without care, now I know that type of conversation just needs to wait. Whatever we were talking about or however I replied, made him begin to anticipate that I was a sexual creature. That’s fine – I am – and that’s part of my allure. But suddenly the man who had little to contribute to conversation was engaged in asking all sorts of questions.

Up went my red flag, though I didn’t realize it until post conversation. At the time, I felt the shift, said quite clearly I didn’t want to engage in any sexual discussion until after we met and connected and left it at that.

I realize now that one of the things I like best when I connect with a man is the mutual sharing of ideas and information. A mutual interest in the others life, no matter how mundane. Dan (so this is my second Dan!) didn’t seem all that inquisitive about my life, other than what I willingly shared, until he began to think about sexy Madeline.

As the evening approached, I began to feel trepidation. And confusion. Was I being silly about how I was interpreting him? Was I being too calculated and precious? I didn’t know but wanted to go to dinner with an open mind.

He chose a lovely restaurant in the city – we had planned on drinks, then dinner should it all work out and we moved easily from one to the other. He had many stories to share, but I found some of his stories hard to follow – I needed to ask a lot of questions for clarification (which, in turn, makes me feel stupid) and I wasn’t exactly sure why he was laughing at times. He is quite brilliant and very educated and I wondered if I was missing a cue along the way? He didn’t seem fussed and answered all my questions and continued on with his stories. Dan is very different from anyone else I have met and I enjoyed the difference at first but then felt more of a chasm in person.

We enjoyed our dinner and wine, but there were several lulls (as there were on the phone I now recalled) and soon it was time to go. He had kissed me a few times during dinner and it was very nice. However, he kept running his hand all the way up my leg which irked me. Hand on the knee, fine, but stop there unless you ask. I had to ask him more than twice to pull his hand down.

We walked outside and leaned against a building to kiss more. When he started to grind against me outside of a Michelin star restaurant I had had enough of this horny dog. I called my Uber. He asked to see me again the following evening and I said I would see.

I left him baffled and untethered and couldn’t determine exactly why – which isn’t like me.

Then I got in the uber and burst out into floods and floods of tears.

I called my friend because I was so worried I would reach out to Bennett. I was soooo close.

While B is normally tough on me, she was very sympathetic to my current state and felt I was finally reaching the reality that Bennett and I were really over for good. That hit home and perhaps that is true.

I cried pretty hard for some time – really feeling the depth of missing him – and the absence of a true connection with Dan. The realization that I was trying too hard to make the connection to Dan work – I felt I needed to make it work for some reason. I knew he liked me and was attracted to me, but I ultimately felt like a piece of cattle. I find it almost crazy that I say that when I love PDA and all kinds of crazy sexual exploits, but only when I am on the same wavelength. Would I have considered his actions as unseemly if I was really into him?

He asked to see me again the next morning and I declined. I felt that he was explicitly looking to come to my home. He then asked for a night next week that I was home without kids and I said that I am rarely alone during a week anymore, it could be available after work. His reply was “we will see what works.” He just sold his apartment and is living with his family while they sell the family apartment. I worried that it was a ploy for a married man, but he was happy to give me his Facebook and last name etc, so I can see he is not lying. He’s just in an intermediary situation that ins’t ideal. Which is fine, but he seemed put off by having another dinner date.

I don’t know if I see him again or not. I just know that too much of missing Bennett is interfering in how I feel. I thought I had moved further past it, but it seems I haven’t. Maybe because I liked Dan “enough” but not enough to push me forward. I don’t know. I suppose I am rambling now…..

I Wish I Didn’t Miss Him So Much

I wish I didn’t think of him every single day.

I wish I didn’t miss the friendship.

I wish I didn’t have such an empty longingness deep within.

This isn’t like the fear I experienced with him last year. The fear of losing him forever. This is so very different. I know he would be in my life if I could manage a relationship with him, but we both know I can’t.

I just love him too much. And I see what I want with him so clearly that it causes resentment and anger that I can’t have it. I tried to take what I could from him, what leftover he had to give me….and it didn’t help the deeper pain. I found my own way out at the end.

It just sort of happened. No massive closure. No big goodbye. Just a soft landing of me saying “I can’t do this anymore.”

I don’t have the hysterical crying jags anymore. When the crying comes it’s so much deeper and painful. I let it wash over me a bit and then gather myself together. This seems to be one of those weekends.

Two years ago last August I was as high as a kite. Confident and happy. Now, as this summer comes around the corner, I am anxious, afraid and depressed. I have allowed someone else to be the guide for my well being for my entire life. I have periods where I see myself and grow from it – but somehow I slip right back into the same bad habit in another disguise.

Bennett was too close to my dreams. Too close to every young girl fantasy of what I expected my life to look like. I can’t explain how that relationship ripped me apart from my foundation. I wish I could be angrier. I wish I could feel more. I just feel dead. Really dead.

My work is falling apart despite trying to course correct for months. I don’t enjoy the pressure of being a single mother and the responsibility on my shoulders.

Maybe this is finally the limit of the weight I can carry. Perhaps my resilience has reached its end. I’ve gone through many period of depression but nothing ever quite felt like this. No heartbreak ever felt like this. Maybe it’s because this time it’s my decision and I know all it takes is a phone call or text and he will be back in some form or another. To reach out is tempting. But to what end? No matter how many times and ways I run the script the outcome stays the same.

Everyone tells me I will be alright. I’m the strongest and most resilient person they know. My friends are here if I want them. But I don’t. I don’t want anyone. No one but him.

I’m so tired of being strong. I’m tired of being alone. I have felt alone for more years than I can count. To have felt, even it was briefly, that I belonged to someone Gave me such immense joy that the crash is worse than I expected.

I’ve been told for so long that my expectations are unrealistic that I can’t believe I found the one who made them feel possible for the first time in my life.

I have never shirked from change in my life and I know its time for another change for me, but I can’t seem to gather the energy and courage it requires to make this change. I was much tougher at the end with Bobby – I fought everything tooth and nail – questioned everything. I didn’t exit gracefully or quietly. I burned everything down behind me.

I have no desire to find the fight in me. I have no desire to do much more than sleep. I am so tired of so many things.

More days have gone by than I count – I do get through many days without painfully missing him – life takes hold. I’m happy when the days pass without simple passing thoughts of him instead of the torture I feel today. This too shall pass, I know. But its here and I decided to write about it instead of texting him.

What Do Small Hands Really Mean on a Man?

I wasn’t willing to find out.

Bennett and I have stopped all contact for going on 6 weeks or so- more of that in some other post – so I have taken a more serious approach to making sure I get myself out there.

My dating stories are sure not to be as exciting as they were in 2014, I am pretty sure I have outgrown most of the post-divorce antics I participated in. It takes so much more to turn me on now. My sex life went from being the Sahara Desert to a Tropical Oasis in less than a years time. I learned what I liked and what I didn’t and more importantly, I learned what I really wanted.

Part of that learning was understanding my own desires and how they are triggered. While I was, for a short time, triggered by any possibility to be turned on and have sex, I now realize that doesn’t really do it for me (mostly). I am much more interested by the romance and attraction that leads to spectacular sex. I am not capable (most times) of booty calls and not interested in one-nighters. I learned that there is no value in the sex-for-sex-sake for me. I don’t particularly like how I feel mid-way through or the morning after.

I don’t think it eliminates the potential for a date leading to sex. I know I am just that much more aware of the value.

I want him (whoever that is) to desire me. I want to feel his heat and desire, both verbally and physically. And, usually, I want to really know there is more behind the physical- that he really like me for me. The electric chemistry needs to be there.

So, I have made much better dating choices. It sure is slow going, but the dates are better in general. I still make mistakes. I keep trying to step out of my comfort zone – whichever one of them it may be – just to see if there really is opportunity to “try different types.” It hasn’t worked for me yet.

My comfort zone list is long. Blue collar doesn’t work. Short doesn’t work. Lack of worldly travel doesn’t work. Not married, no kids doesn’t work. Young children doesn’t work. Jobs with too much down time usually don’t work. Excessively fit men don’t like me (I’m too big) and men of color/race other than Caucasian do (but they are not my type). Unfortunately for me, somewhere between Dan-Bobby-Bennett I really narrowed down my type so tightly that I haven’t found a good reason to step out of those boundaries. Their type was perfect – except for that one thing – they were married. I consciously stay away from married and currently separated men because my souls is shards of glass from the torture I self-inflicted over the past 4 years.

But, I do persevere with men, regardless of my comfort zone, that can start with a connection in conversation. Bennett wasn’t near “my type” and I still fell for him as hard as humanly possible. Not sure I will ever actually get over him.

I met Doug a few weeks back on Plenty of Fish. We hit it off quickly in our chat. We had a lot of similar interests and were not too far off in our history: married a long time, children old enough to manage themselves, and ambitious. He sounded like he is a good place in his life. He didn’t sound bitter about his divorce. He loved his boys. Everything was check, check, check. He didn’t live close enough to me to be convenient, but we could meet in the city. Many men are fussed about the distance, but he was willing to manage it for the right connection. We spoke a few times and decided to meet a few days later.

The connection over the few days grew and I was really looking forward to meeting him. I arrived at the bar first after a terrible day at work. I quickly downed a Prosecco and settled in. He was running behind.

When he appeared, I was slightly taken aback at his size. He was much bigger than his photos portrayed and he wasn’t the 5’11” he professed to be. He was ok looking, and had a face and body I felt I could get used to, so that wasn’t what put me off.

It was the first glimpse at his hands.

His hands were the absolute smallest hands I have EVER seen on a man. Smaller than a woman’s hands and I would honestly call them petite. Tiny hands. I was so distracted by his hands I couldn’t take my eyes off of them.

At one point, I also looked down at his feet to realize he was wearing really bad running sneakers with suit pants (his jacket and tie on first look appeared quite neat and nice). I could barely see his feet through the width of the cuff.

That did it, I was done. Nothing else mattered.

There was plenty during the conversation that I realized we were not a match in any case, but I wonder how much of that was made clear by his small hands? Not alarm bells or red flags, just points of disparity – and would I have caught as many of them if he didn’t have such tiny hands?

I literally drifted at one point – looking right at him – trying to determine if I was willing to put the theory to the test?

Did I have the balls to see if the old wives tale is true?


I am sticking to my own theory – a mans hands and feet are a sure sign of his package. I have heard of big hands and small cock, but never experienced it myself. My experience has held true that the clock size follows the size of the hands.

Whats your experience?

Dreary Weather

The weather on the East Coast refuses to turn to Spring. I think it’s bringing everyone down. We’ve had more snow than usual and now a bout of rain. Days when you can see the sun are so lovely but the time we spend outside will be short lived as the humidity crushes us sooner than not. I miss the Spring. I see little blooms of hope everywhere and love the sight of the bright Spring blossoms.

I wish I could say I had little blooms of hope too, but I don’t. Work is crushing my soul. I’m not sure I can manage the politics of my role and often times feel like I’m in over my head with the expectations my boss has. Mostly I don’t see his expectations as realistic and he’s a terrible bully and awful leader. The powers that be have spoken to him multiple times yet his style never changes. HR is useless in corporations. A man like this is kept around while he allowed to speak about how he prefers Asian women and their behaviors and keeps hiring Asian women. I thought this kind of stuff was supposed to be eradicated? So much for breaking glass ceilings.

All the stress causes my anxiety to be nonstop. I had to increase my daily meds and start taking Xanax again regularly. I’ve gained so much weight I don’t fit into my clothes. I wake at 6, commute at 7, return home by 9 at least 3/4 days a week. I’m constantly tapped into work as my CEO is always asking me direct questions.

My kids are typical teens. There’s more aggravation some days than others. I mourn their little boy days but suppose that’s natural as I have two going to college this summer. I feel a bit more useless as a mom because the things they need (cooking mostly) I’m not around to do. I do what I can and have attempted to reconcile myself to that’s just how it is. I am a single mom with a high pressure career. They can cook for themselves and do their own laundry. But I still feel guilty.

Bennett is still around. I see him maybe once or twice a month after work. He lost his job early February so he doesn’t have any true reason to stay out overnight. I think I must have reconciled in my head that it is what it is as long as I stay in it. I speak to him every day and he provides kindness, encouragement and support but if we even have sex once a month it’s a lot. I do love him but no longer have hope for things to be different. He’s adjusted to life without kids at home and fallen into a pleasant routine with his wife. If I had any “hope” buried anywhere within my heart it was all crushed when he lost his job. When I saw what he went through and how he behaved and responded, I knew there was zero chance he would ever leave his family and marriage.

I met a man who doesn’t exist – he was his own dream of what he hopes for and that lasted only so long before his reality set back in. I don’t doubt his love for me for one moment, but he could never be the man he had shown me for that short period. He could never sustain true change or even have he courage to truly step towards change on his own.

I’ve been happy to help support him with take and resumes etc and he’s already had some great connections and a freelance gig. He will always swing by work and bring me pretty flowers when he’s near. The bloom on our flower is mostly gone. I don’t know if I can sustain much longer, loving a man who will never be mine.

I’m sad it couldn’t be Bennett, but I know it never will be.

I learned what I need from Bennett and how good it feels to have it. I learned how to stand for what I want and not worry if it takes me longer to find it.

I’ve been dating on and off (mostly off) for the past 6 months but gave it a good strong push towards late March when I knew I would slow down with work travel.

I met Tim, he claimed 5’11” but was definitely not (makes me crazy) and we hit it off via text pretty quickly. He looked handsome in his photos, had a good job and didn’t live too far from my home. We set a date.

I was disappointed in his height when I met him, but tried not to let it bother me because he was also husky (which I like). He was clearly older than his photos, but still an attractive man. We had a slow start of conversation but then it picked up and we enjoyed several hours of chatter.

We parted pleasantly with a peck on the lips and I knew I wasn’t interested in seeing him again. When he contacted me a couple days later, I was honest. He put the full court press on in compliments and I was as polite as possible until, after a week, I blocked him.

I met two others on line that had potential. Switched to text and then: ghosted. It still sucks when you have a tiny bit of “maybe” in your head.

I have another dating story or two up my sleeve. But otherwise my life has become more routine in the sense that I no longer feel the dating frenzy I once did, and have probably entered a period of depression. I hope writing again will help pull me out of it a bit.

Sometimes I Just Don’t Want to Do Life

I’m so overworked and overwhelmed.

Work just sucks. My boss is under so much pressure that he bullies his employees. I admit I cracked now under the strain. I can’t even have a meeting with him alone, there is always a consultant in the room. To protect me, no less. And while they do, once he starts on his rampage, he doesn’t stop. He is always angry with me. Somehow I trigger him. The consultants see it and stepped in and it improved for a while but he snapped again this week. He is a high level executive, I don’t know how these things get handled at that level – I just assume I pay the price at some point and it’s freaking me out now.

And that triggers my anxiety into high gear.

Layer that with a phone call from Bennett this week in a panic over his child and the insinuation that our relationship is too much of a burden for him to bear. I got so mad at him for calling me at work in the middle of the day and dumping that on me that we didn’t talk for 3 days. I don’t have the tolerance for him to be confused anymore. I care, it hurts, but I also know he will feel remorse and feel awful for taking it out on me.

I feel like everyone’s punching bag. I’m so tired.

My strike at home has been relatively successful. My kids started doing their own laundry and I notice the garbage has been taken out randomly and the mail brought in. I still haven’t done much food shopping but prepared a few things and they sat and ate with me. When I ask for help, I say “I need help now” and they mostly listen. I think I have to keep the laundry as a full responsibility at their ages now.

My eldest twin is thrilled, he has gotten into 3 of his 4 top choice colleges. One that we didn’t expect but I encouraged him to go for it and he did! I’m super proud, but I worry that this child of mine is the least practical and dedicated of all. He will live college, but will he buckle down? I just don’t know.

The x has finally capitulated and agreed to almost all the college terms. He made the mistake of not replying to the court order and caused himself more damage by making the judge mad at him. No he is forcing us into court and – while I am not happy about paying for the lawyer – I think the idiot is finally scared enough to realize he can’t win. He’s been threatening me for weeks now because he wants to file a change in circumstance: my job changed while his is stagnant. So he wants to sue for alimony. Unfortunately for him, since alimony was never awarded in the first place, he can’t ever go after it. So then he threatened child support, but I have proof that the 70/30 arrangement we agreed upon has now turned into 85/15 – the kids are barely with him. But he likes to beat his chest and say he walked away with nothing. His nothing included less home with his children and no child support as well as a lump sum buy out of the home. As well as all savings split equally. I wouldn’t call it nothing but he does.

I am just overwhelmed. I have no time for myself. I am always nervous. I have never questioned my abilities to deal with stress or pressure to get done what I need to do but I am falling apart at the seams. I can’t find my place of peace.

I was due to leave for another country tonight but my visa didn’t come through. I was so happy. So happy I jinxed myself and it came through today so I still have to travel across the world and back in a week. I’m not thrilled but it is what it is. I don’t mind the travel but this is so compressed and to a difficult country.

I come back for 5 days and head to the next country for 10 days.

I don’t have any time to think about dating. I don’t have any time to help my father which I really need to get some of his life in order at 82 years old. And my son needs to visit schools again and wants me to take him and not his Dad.

My youngest son has developed a rapid heart rate and terrible headaches and when I took him to the doctor this week I found out his Dad had taken him in October and was told the same thing. Of course I was in China. And the child or the dad never told me there was an issue and blood work and subsequent tests required.

I’m failing. Everyone and everything. I’m am entirely unraveled and can’t find the one place to focus, succeed and move forward. I’ve lost my footing and it’s scary. And without Bennett in the right frame of mind, I don’t have my normal voice of reason.

My bag is packed for this trip and I’m mentally ready to go.

I just hope it gives me time to clear my brain.

Some Nights are Harder than Others

It’s a rare thing for me to cry before sleep.  Generally it only happens in times of immense sadness.

This time it’s because of immense stress.  

For the first time in my life I really feel like a failure.

Work is so tough and I just can’t seem to navigate the depth of the water I’m in.  I am falling apart at the seams being overwhelmed by the enormity of the expectations around my role.  I am facing blame for failures that are not within my role, but sort of sideways to my role, and somehow expected to enforce these other areas as well as mine.  My boss is under so much pressure from the new CEO that this is coming down on me as well.  This is an awful game of poker and I don’t know how to play.  I don’t know how to manage through this and it’s sinking my confidence.

This is turning to pressure downwards, on my team, also suffering under the weight of expectation.  The hours are long and no end is in sight.  We are constantly distorted on projects so their day jobs are neglected.  

I’m digging in, doing all I can do, to make changes.  But, for the first time, I question my ability to do so and that is simply the scariest thing I have ever felt.  

I have never lacked confidence in my work abilities.  Ever.

It’s a horrible feeling to have that one thing you believe is your best skill to be questioned.

I am learning new skills.  One has to adapt when one’s life is threatened, so to speak.  I’m struggling, but starting to learn how to fight for my life.  

I’m so stressed and anxious over work, and overworked working 10-12 hour day 3-4 days a week plus putting in one weekend day now each weekend, that my life is unraveling as well.

My kids, typical teens they may be, are wearing my last nerve.  I have gone on strike.  They will now be feeding themselves and doing their own laundry. Since there seems to be no appreciation for what I do for them and no interest in helping me in any way, my friend suggested going on strike.  I’m giving it a try.  The last straw was when I got home from work at 10:30pm, on a night they were due to be with their Dad for dinner….I knew their Dad forgot around 6:30 when they text me to tell me they were starving.  I ordered their dinner and went back to work.  I sent two text to remind them to take in the mail and the garbage can.  When I got home at 10:30, two kitchen counters were tossed with the nights take out, the garbage can was off it’s hinge and jammed to overflowing, the outside garbage can was still outside, and there was a pile of packages and mail waiting to be brought in.  To add insult to injury, one of my sons had a car accident in the driveway causing over $3k worth of damage to the other car.  I still haven’t had the damage to his car assessed.

Needless to say, I lost it.  I told the boys I was going on strike: no laundry and no cooking.  I figured eventually someone would run out of underwear and take care of themselves.  

And, while Bennett isn’t causing any noticeable anxiety, when I am feeling down and depressed about the rest of my life, then I realize I am lonely and need someone that’s able to be there for my physically when I need them.  Sure he’s available by text, but tonight is one of those nights I can’t stop crying and I wish someone was here to hold me.  So I get myself all worked up about being in love with a man I can’t ever have.

Things are “fine” with Bennett.  I see him, we speak, he feels good.  But when I think about it, the fact of the affair is tough on me. I wanted this man to be mine and he isn’t going to be.  I am deathly afraid there will never be another like him.  Normally, this is far in the back of my mind because I was able to balance dating for a bit.

But not, nothing,  I have zero time for anyone or anything, including myself. 

I don’t have a minute to exercise and I feel like crap.  I gained weight yet again, my weight is worse than a high speed elevator.

My clothes are too tight and I have to worry about traveling to 6 countries over the course of 7 weeks.  All different climates to boot.  I have to be in India, France, Italy, China, Hong Kong and Korea between the last week of this month and the first week of March.  I want to shoot myself.  Guaranteed I will get sick.

I’m back to court with the x over college.  My kids are upset with me because they think it’s unfair that I make my x so angry about having to contribute to college.  I am trying to explain to them that college is so expensive and requires payments at certain times.  We need to understand his contribution and commitments in writing up front.  If he doesn’t have the cash to contribute, some of their expenses will be loans for him.  I am not here to solve his fiscalresources   but I must avoid him making college financing my responsibility.  I don’t want to argue about who writes the check for the next 8 years. 

So, I sit here in tears tonight.  Unable to stem the steady flow of these huge round water drops coming from my eyes.  Knowing tomorrow is full on from the moment I wake until the moment I drop.  

I keep telling myself “This too shall pass.”  I think the worst hasn’t come quite yet, it’s still ahead.  I know there is a reckoning to come at work and certainly if I remain this stressed, there will be one with Bennett as well.  I know myself well enough to know how my mind works.  Maybe the travel will help, maybe it will make it worse.

My best friend, who has never left her home town beyond a vacation to Florida, is coming to Paris with me.  I am so excited for her to join me and equally so worried that I will be miserable.  She has never been so courageous and booked her trip before I knew it.  I can’t let her down, she is the dearest person in the world to me.  I just worry that now isn’t the best time.  

I know this post was all over the place, sort of like my brain.

Some nights I wish my life wasn’t so hard.  I feel like everything is a struggle.  I wish I had more time for myself, my family.  More time to find a lover.  More time to see my friends.  I hate being so consumed and so unhappy.  

Right now just sucks.