Fuck Buddies

Is it possible for two people to have regular or even occasional sex without one or both of them getting "caught up" as MzB likes to put it?

Dara thinks not. She says, "Sex is different for women, it is not some random thing that just happens." She then went on to say "Any of the women you are sleeping with would most likely say yes if you told them you wanted to get serious with them."

I disagree with her on two fronts...

- It is not just women, both men and women get 'caught up' when you are intimate with someone regularly you do begin to care for them.

- While I have no doubt that Carolyn cares for me, and cares for me deeply, I have no delusions that she would give up her long term relationship with Jimmy for me. Just as I would not give up Dara for her. As she said the other day "But you are in love with another woman" and I responded "And you are in love with another man."

Who's That Lady in the Bedroom, Daddy?

Who's That Lady in the Bedroom, Daddy? is a story written by Trey Ellis in last Sunday's New York Times that captivated me on the train yesterday. I know what this is like -- as does every single parent. Read it one and all.

Here are some snippets -- I have to respect the copyright though...

Most of my male friends and all of my female ones cautioned me against rushing into another relationship, but I was convinced that what I most needed to help heal my heart was the smell of new skin. I threw myself into every singles bar in my area code but always left as alone as I'd entered, and for months my personal real estate languished on the market.

...

But the next morning I awoke alongside her in my bed, both amazed and relieved - then terrified. My clock said 6:59. I jumped into my sweatpants, intercepted the kids on the stairs, and deftly steered them downstairs with a bribe: "French toast! Who wants French toast?"

...

I made the mistake of opening it in the middle of a typical morning of crazed parenting. My son was not quite out of diapers, and I found myself changing him on the washing machine while my heart battered my insides like an unbalanced load. I swallowed hard and explained to my kids that plans had changed and that Frenchie wasn't coming back. Ever. It's been over a year and a half, and sometimes my son still says he misses her."

The Short Happy Life of Wise Devil

It was now lunch time ... oops, that was Hemingway's opening. This is a different story.

I have not been blogging for long, but I am already thinking of taking it down. It is causing pain. Carolyn is still very upset about what she read. She needs time before we can try to establish a platonic friendship. While I did not lie to her, what she has read has really shaken her. "I don't understand it, I don't understand you." she says.

Blogging anonymously is fun and therapeutic especially if readers leave comments. (Thank you MzB). But I write with such specific detail that if you were there you would know exactly who I am. Both Dara and Carolyn found this blog. Carolyn through my own damn stupidity, Dara I have no idea.

So I am toying with deleting the blog. I may start up again somewhere else, or I may not. Maybe this damn devil is not so wise after all.

Eyes Wide Shut

She writes:

As a trade journalist I interview people in my oh-so-dry industry all the time. They are usually standard fare, you can't help but wonder as you are asking questions "Who the heck cares?" But it pays the bills so I do it. Renard though was different. From the first minute of our first telephone conversation he flirted incessantly with me. And it did not stop with that call; in the following weeks he would call and text leaving me innuendo filled messages. He was never a bother and I actually found the attention very flattering.

Shortly after I first interviewed Renard I found out that I was pregnant. BF and I had been trying to get pregnant for about a year and a half. We were beyond ecstatic. I miscarried at 8 weeks. I crashed; it had to be the low point of my life. At the time I needed him most the 200 miles in our long distance relationship seemed unbearable. I was sad, I was angry. I took time off work, bought a bottle of dark rum and closed myself in my apartment and wept.

A few hours and half a bottle later I called Renard. "So", I asked "Are you all talk or do you really want to meet?"



I stood at the hotel room door. I knew it would be unlocked. I pulled a Hermes scarf out of my purse and blindfolded myself. I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, stood there and said "Hi."

No more words were spoken. His soft hands caressed me, we kissed tenderly and then he carried me to the bed. He was a glorious lover and the blindfold heightened my sensations. After we were done, he kissed me gently. Then I heard the door shut. I never did see his face.

I never did meet Renard again. BF found correspondence between us on my computer so I stopped communicating with him. It is however one of the hottest experiences of my life. Something I will never do again, but something I needed that day.

Brazilian Heartbreak

I am on the phone with a vendor on Wednesday when my mobile rings. CallerID tells me it is Michelle calling from Rio. I hastily get off the phone; Michelle is in crisis and need to be there for her.

A week or so earlier she had called in a state. Her job takes her all over Latin America, where she helps natural resource companies mine their deposits more effectively. She was able return early from her trip and she had eagerly traveled to the local yacht club to pleasantly surprise her beau Andrew on his boat. Andrew and she have been dating for 8 years, yet he is still married to his (supposedly) estranged wife who lives in the Cayman Islands. I have always referred to him as Randy Andy, because of his commitment phobia. I am convinced that he has not filed for divorce because it would force him to declare his intentions with Michelle.

You probably already know where this is going… yes, Michelle ended up being the one surprised; there were two pairs of sandals on the deck, and when she lifted the hatch there was definitely a woman's figure in the bed next to Andy. It turns out that he had flown in an Chilean woman and she had been living on the boat with him for a month.

"What am I going to do" she had cried on the phone.

I am fiercely protective of Michelle so I tell her it is good riddance. I grew up with her, and had a huge crush on her before her family emigrated to Vancouver. We have grown closer over the years, but the one time we met, in NYC in 2002 she was a right bitch and it told her as much.

This time she asks a different question. "If he asks, begs or pleads for forgiveness should I let him back into my life?" She had invited him to her company's retreat in Isla Margarita, Venezuela, and for appearances sake still wanted to go with him.

"To answer that question I will have to tell you what I think, which may not be what you want to hear" I tell her.

She urges me to continue.

"You finding him with that floozy was probably the best thing that happened to you. It has forced you to do something that you were powerless to do prior to that." I went on to recount the many conversations we had shared about her desire for marriage and kids, needs of hers that he was not even remotely interested in meeting. "Take this opportunity to rinse him from your life and start anew. It will hurt for a while, but we're human and we all heal."

We talk for a while about how she is 38 her chance of having a child is going to soon come to an end. If she cuts Andrew loose she will likely mourn the end of the relationship for a year, meet someone else and date for at least a year before possibly choosing to try to become pregnant at 40. "If you want a child, as you do, Andrew is your best bet if he is willing to commit to you, which he has not been able to yet. If you did make up you would probably take a few months to heal from this rift. You could be trying to get pregnant in 3 months."

As I say this I cannot help but think about the parallels between her situation and Dara's. All along she has been far readier for a deeper relationship than I have. I was surprised at the level of my emotional attachment to her when we had our blow up this week. I know that if I was Dara's friend I would be giving her the same advice that I gave Michelle. Take this opportunity and run, he does not deserve you.

Mmmm. I should listen to myself and hold onto what is the best thing that I have had in ages.

Cojones

"Hey can you chat?"

The IM flashes on my computer this afternoon. It is 3:30 in New York, 9:30 in Paris. This is when we usually chat after she has put her daughter to sleep, but I have not communicated with Fabienne in months.

"5 mins pls" I hastily reply. I have workmates in my office. I don't want to talk with her when they are there.

I finally break away 15 mins later. We chat. Her angel is happy and healthy, but she has recently broken up with her boyfriend of six months. In spite of his initial pronouncements to her, he reared away from commitment. She claims that she is now 'immunized' from desire and is not interested in men, not interested in reactivating that desire.

We've been talking for a while about meeting, about getting away to Spain or Italy for a weekend to just be together. She brings this up and asks why I want to meet her again, what do I want of her.

"Nothing" I reply, "you are in Paris with your daughter, and I am in New York with my son. Neither of us is going to leave her child"

"True" she says then tells me the story of this story she once read about a woman who had a recurring annual rendezvous with a married man. "That appealed to me." She said "Maybe we can live that life."

This makes me think of Dara…her grandmother had this multi-decade long affair with a married man who lived in France while she lived a whole hemisphere away. They met every year for their own rendezvous. Mmm. Maybe this is a French thing.

I ask her about relationships, about monogamy, about affairs. I get frustrated with the IM chat so I call her. I learn that she had only had one relationship where she did not have an affair – when she was 20.

I tell her about Dara, about our blowup, about my desire for a deep trusting relationship with her and also about my pursuit fun, fleeting frolics with others.

"I don't know why they say you have to have cojones to be bold" she says in a Madeleine Albright-esque fashion. "Every man I have ever had a conversation with about life is too fucking chicken to say what he wants. Often he doesn't even know what he wants." Mmm, has she been reading my blog, I wonder.

"Find out what you want" she says. "If you want this woman you need to call her to talk about your relationship. And, as we say in France, 'not over a cup of coffee', call her and say you want to meet for dinner.

"I have found that it is all about rules" she continues. "The rules don't have to be mutual, and, as you found out this week with the Dara situation, you don't always have to know about the rules before had. If you want her, as you say you do, then talk to her about what you really want, and find out if that is aligned with what she wants. But if you want her you need to call. The ball is in your court."

Truer words have never been spoken.

Outed

It was midday today. I was at business lunch. The subject line of Carolyn's message was simply "?", the message "Did you get my text message last night?"

I have not really written about her in this blog, but I have been seeing her for about a month. We met on the subway, it was during the evening rush and I think that our hands touched as we reached for the poles that have replaced the proverbial straps. I smiled, we chatted.

She recently moved to the City from New Orleans. She has a boyfriend there, she loves him and hopes to marry him. But we still exchanged cards. I called, talked about business, then asked her out. We met, and we clicked. It has been wonderful.

I had not received a text message from her. So I called, no answer, so I left a message. I emailed her too to let her know. We had much earlier had problems with messages going to wrong receipients, so I sent her this text message "Pls call me on cell"

"I'll call you tonight, we need to talk."

My blood went cold. Is she okay? Oh, I thought, is she late? We've always used condoms, but what could it be?

"What is it about? Is everything ok?" Suspense kills me, and I was now worried. I was distracted and I was not paying attention to my business.

"Fine we'll talk later" she was not giving me anything. But I needed to get back to work.

"OK." I responded in resignation, but relieved that she was alright.

---

10:30 tonight. She has not called, so I call.

"What's up?"

"I found your blog. I looked at the sites that you went to the night you were here."

I felt weak.

"I don't think we should have sex anymore" she said. "I don't want to be part of this life, with you and the ballerina. I don't appreciate it that you left my house this week and went to sleep with another woman..."

We talk for another 10 minutes.

"You are in love with another woman" she says. She's obviously read my blog from earlier today.

"And you love another man."

"I'd like us to be friends" she says, "I just can't have sex with you any more."

Sad. I like her too, a lot. I am not 'in love' with her, but I care for her. Our relationship has always been very honest. I know about Jimmy -- her boyfriend -- and she knew about Dara.

There is a moral here... either don't blog, or be pretty damn careful where you blog from.

Sex at Seven

I am not ready for this!

"Are you sure that this is your DVD?" My son and I have just come home and there was a Netflix envelope addressed to him in the mailbox.

"Yes, it has my name on it." It is a movie called 'X-men United' he puts it in the DVD player.

20 minutes later I look up from my computer and this woman dressed in next to nothing is dragging a bewildered man into a bathroom stall. "Ahhh, what are you watching? I don't want you watching this, it's about sex" I say.

"I already know about sex" my 7 years old says.

"What is sex then?" I ask

"You should know you always do it."

"I do?"

"Yes, or you try to."

"With who, the guys I hang out with?" I taunt.

"No." he says increduously, "With every woman you meet"

"Who told you about this?"

He looks up at me, his red cap cocked off to one side. Eyebrows raised he says "You did."

Oh my god. This at 7, what are his teenage years going to be like for me. Somebody save me, please.

Every Guy Needs One...

...Yes, and probably every girl too.

For the first time in ages I slept alone in my own bed yesterday. It felt good. I realized that I was "acting out" to try to inoculate myself from the hurt that I am feeling. I also noted that this was unhealthy – too much alcohol, too much carefree (almost disposable) sex.

I had made plans for last night – I was going to take Angie to the sex parties that I had attended quite a few times in the past, and I was then going to meet Carolyn at her house. But I felt terrible…there was this dull ache in my heart. I wanted to be with Dara. I need her. I love her. (That, dear reader, is the first time I have said that!) I cancelled my 'playa' plans.

So, did I call her, or IM her? No, I don't know what to say to her. I need to figure out clearly what I want. Do I want to make a commitment to her and reap all the benefits that come from a true trusting relationship, or should I just walk away, lick my wounds and wait to heal? How is it that after almost a year, I still don't know what I want? I need to figure that out.

I did not know the answer so I called two of my closest male friends. I had frank conversations with them about my anger, my surprising emotional anguish about this whole episode. The both said the same things… "Find out what you want first." "Be true to yourself." It is rare and unusual for my friends and I to have heart-to-heart talks about love and emotions. It is however wonderful to know that they are there for me (and me for them) when we need to talk.

These guys and I go way, way back. I have known Paul my whole life, we were in school together from kindergarten through high school, and then lived in the same towns for 5 years after grad school. We are godfathers to each other's first born kids. Doesn't get much closer than that.

Steve and I met in business school, we bonded right away. When he moved from the west coast to this area he stayed in my apartment for over a month. I love him dearly.

Last night Paul met me at The Campbell Apartment at Grand Central -- which coincidentally is where Dara & I went on one of our first dates. We then had dinner at a fabulous Mexican restaurant (Zarella) on 2nd Ave, and then topped the evening off at the rooftop bar of the Peninsula Hotel. We then took the train back to our suburban city. A wonderful boys' night out.

Yes, every guy needs one, or a few, non-judging close friends.

Hurting

It hurts like crazy. I could not imagine such pain. My predominant emotion is not anger any more but a deep sense of loss. Dara was a true and important part of my life.

Gosh, it's like divorce all over again. Dammit... that's what I was trying to protect myself from.

Breaking Up

Dara and I broke up yesterday. Alas it happened on IM.

I had been struggling with the fact that she was seeing someone else. She did not hide it -- those have been the ground rules of our relationship. All the same it was difficult for me; it shocked me how emotionally connected I was to her, but heck it has been almost a year. I realized that I had just 3 options.

1 - Learn to deal with it, and maintain the status quo, where we both have our "side deals"
2 - Commit myself to this relationship and become monogamous (with the exception of things we do together.)
3 - Realize that I cannot deal with her having a lover, and break up with her and continue with my free and single life.

I really tried to get myself to be OK with option 1 - learning to deal with it. I found it somewhat hypocritical of myself that I wanted her to me true to me, but I was fucking my way through a good number of the women in NYC.

There were only 2 things about it that concerned me...

1 - That it is someone I know, or someone she met through me.
2 - That she will form an emotional connection with this person.

I told her this and she avoided addressing the first one... I asked her directly and she said "I think you have met him, but I don't think you remember." I knew immediately who it was...a guy she had been chatting with at an office party that I had. They spent way too much time together. It was more than incensed because he is a good friend of 2 of my employees. Last thing I need is for my employees to be gossiping about my private life.

I had to do it, I had to break off all my contact with her. I hurts but like a cancer I need to cut it out. Here is what I told her "You are fucking with my work and I want nothing to do with you. Have a good life. Don't contact me ever"

For crying out loud there are about 8 million men in the NYC area, why does she have to fuck with my work?

I don't ever plan to see or talk to her again. I will heal, we all do. And I will go on with my life.

That happened at 5:45 last night... At 6:30 I met this stunning woman that I am seeing at Rare View ... georgous night, great company. We had fun. I got hammered.

This morning I stopped by an old girlfriends place and we had a little romp.

I think I will get Dara out of my system by fucking 100 women.