Sex and the Single Soccer Mom

As teenagers, we all dream of our ideal partner. Mine would be sensitive , intelligent, witty, great sense of humor, poetic, beautiful in a scholarly sort of way and worship the ground I walk on (of course). After being married , divorced, and thrust back into the dating world, my perceptions of ideal have changed quite a bit. I’ve been with some incredibly sensitive men; so sensitive that I feel like I have to walk on eggshells to protect their delicate feelings and spend more time nursing their bruised feelings than doing anything else. Intelligence can also equate to listening to them pontificate on their knowledge for so long and with such smug superiority, I want to punch them in their face. After having a couple of poems written for me, I’ve discovered it’s actually quite an awkward experience, like trying to watch a scene in a sitcom that makes you squirm with embarassment. Listening to someone wax poetic tickles my gag reflex, although the occasional glimpse of an inner poet is lovely. I’ve dated men that were hysterically funny, for the first hour. After the first hour they’re still cracking jokes and waiting for me to get the punchline, while I’m wondering if my facial muscles are going to stick in a rictus of forced hilarity. Beautiful becomes less important, as long as there is attraction. Oddly enough, that whole “worship the ground I walk on” concept is also not something I want anymore. Do I want to be loved, admired, desired and respected? Absolutely? Worshipped? No way. It gets very tiresome, which may sound like I have some experience with being worshipped. Believe it or not, although it isn’t the norm, it has happened. It turned me into a perverse monster, who began to push buttons and do outrageous things simply to see how far they were willing to go. The further they went with putting me on an alter, the lower my respect for them plummeted. Not one of the shinier aspects of my personality, yet still it exists.

I no longer believe that anyone gets their ideal partner. At any age, but certainly in your mid-thirties, you begin to learn what you can live with and what you can’t. The simple truth is, everyone is dysfunctional. So I’d like to introduce the concept of the Mostly Ideal Partner (or MIP, if you prefer). The MIP has flaws, sometimes even big ones, yet you still believe the total package is a pretty great deal. Because really, isn’t finding a partner as much about finding someone with dysfunctions you can live with? I certainly have mine and I know there are men who would find them impossible to live with. I’ve met men that I know are great partners…for someone else. It’s not even that there’s anything wrong with them. I simply can’t live with certain traits they have.

So, I propose a different sort of social networking/dating site: The MIP page. Much like Facebook or a dating site, you’d have the opportunity to define yourself for the world with interests, descriptions, facts, cute quotations and pictures. However, (and this is the part I really love!) former dating partners or friends should be able to go and leave reviews! You could answer questions that would give the person an overall rating in various categories. You could even use the star system, using 1 Star for a low rating and 5 Stars for an excellent rating. For instance, let’s take “Arnold”. I’ve just recently gone on a date with Arnold and found that he wasn’t for me, but he’s a nice enough fellow. Let’s rate him!

Arnold Nice Guy

• Intelligence: 3 Stars
• Humor: 2 Stars
• Dependability: 4 Stars
• Manners: 4 Stars
• Conversation: 2 Stars
• Financial Stability: 4 Stars
• Education: 3 Stars
• Physical Attractiveness: 3 Stars
• Grooming and Style: 3 Stars
• Goodnight Kiss: 2 Stars

Quickly reading over the rating system, I would deduce that Arnold is of average looks, has a good job/assets, good manners, presents himself well and is a fairly average guy. However, he seems to be a bit underwhelming in the personality/sex appeal category, as he received lower ratings on humor, conversation and the goodnight kiss. I could even add a brief “review” that had to be 30 words or less:

“Pleasant dinner companion with excellent manners. Not much to talk about. Date was a nice evening, but not enough spark for a second date.”

Now, Arnold isn’t for me, because I want good conversation and a guy who can make me laugh (not every minute!), not to mention a really hot kisser. However, there may very well be a woman out there who thinks that Arnold’s good manners, attractiveness and grooming, great job, and dependability more than makes up for what he lacks. Maybe she doesn’t require much conversation in a partner and welcomes the silence. Or maybe she never shuts up and doesn’t need much feedback. Maybe she’s very serious and likes a man who isn’t always trying to be witty or amusing. Arnold sounds like a keeper! I can think of a couple of men I’ve dated who I could give great ratings to, yet for one reason or another, they haven’t suited me.

I’m currently dating someone (3 months and counting!) who could very well turn out to be my MIP. Still, it sure would be nice if I could read some reviews. It would be like reading reviews on a CD before you purchase. “Some formulaic lyrics that frequently rise to original and thought-provoking, catchy tunes that stay in your head, moments of sheer beauty that rise above a primarily solid musical choice.” I would buy that CD! It might even be that after buying it, I think the reviewer was crazy and this is the best CD I’ve ever heard. Or maybe I’ll nod knowingly after I listen and continue to keep it in constant rotation. Really, couldn’t it work the same way with men and women???

Now, someone just needs to work on my MIP site…

I ended my brief affair with the quirky artist (aka, Mr. Duracell, the sex-addicted, sandwich stealer) three months ago. It was a two and a half month long stress-fest that I hoped would smooth into something resembling a real, lasting relationship. Clearly, that was my first mistake. If things are stressful after a month, they are probably not going to get less stressful. All the desire in the world for a healthy relationship will not make it so. After lots of small things, building into bigger things, morphing into the ridiculously huge things…well, even my optimistic-about-love self had called it quits.

However, SASS (Sex-Addicted, Sandwich Stealer), as I shall refer to him henceforth, clearly did not comprehend. The nasty emails started within a few days. I was gentle, as I have dealt with my own fair share of pain during ending relationships. As the emails continued and turned accusing, even going so far as to question my mental health (Ha!), I finally grew frustrated.  We managed to make a semi-peace by the end and he said I wouldn’t hear from him anymore.

A few weeks later, he shows up unexpectedly in a public place that he knows I will be at, doing his best (aside from a nasty look) to pretend I don’t exist. I get another email from him a few days later, insisting that we meet so he can have “closure”. Closure? For a two and half month long relationship? I thought the emails were closure! I gently respond in the negative, letting him know I don’t think a face-to-face meeting is a good idea. He becomes angry and I receive nothing else. Until he shows up at another public event he knew I would attend, but that he was unlikely to. Despite some passive-aggressive behavior on his part initially, we talk and it is civil, if awkward.

A week later, I find a letter in my door. It describes his emotional pain in wrenching detail, along with many statements about the mistakes he made while dating me and his acknowledgement of them. He states that being with me was one of the happiest times of his life. I read it, then tuck it away inside a drawer, thinking this must be the closure he was looking for.

Within the past two weeks I have received an expensive “belated birthday gift” (my birthday was two months ago) and an inappropriately intimate birthday card. I’ve arrived home to find 18 red roses sitting on my porch with a card that states: “Hope your day is as wonderful as you are, SASS.” However, the absolute shining star on the top of the stalking tree is what I discovered in my carport just the other day: A painting that is as tall as I am and would cover an entire wall of my livingroom. I lugged it into my kitchen and simply stood staring at it for a long, long time. Then I began to laugh. I laughed and laughed and yes, perhaps there was a note of hysteria in there for a few minutes. It would have been entirely appropriate if it had a plaque that read: “I will not be ignored!” Did he wake up that morning and think, “I know what will get her attention! A painting that will be the focal point of an entire room by its sheer size!” I also realized this painting was a perfect example of exactly why I ended the relationship. It mirrored the level of ego, self-absorption, and desire to control I saw during our time together.

The painting is beautiful. It speaks to my soul, as though he plucked the image from my head (which I’m trying to not examine too closely). Now I have to decide exactly what to do with it. What exactly does one do with a gigantic piece of artwork, created specifically with you in mind, from an ex with an unhealthy fixation? Do I keep it? Sell it? Give it away? I have no way to send it back, as I no longer know where he lives! Will it bring bad mojo to my life if it is in my house? Is it overly pragmatic and cold to think: “Cool! Free artwork!” when it is given to you by someone who claims you have decimated their soul (after 10 weeks)? If the various opinions regarding the symbolism in the painting are to be believed, he has worked everything from a giant vulva, to symbols of desolation and loneliness, to images of impending rebirth into this five foot tall statement.

I also realized that over the past two weeks, I have been obsessed with his next move. Afterall, he’s unstable! Will he leave something else? Right now it’s flowers and gifts and ludicrously over-the-top paintings…what if he starts leaving feces or dead kittens or severed fingers (okay, I don’t think he’s self-sacrificing enough to chop off a finger, thank goodness!)? What if he will never go away? What if he’s watching my house and peering into my window at night while I’m in my nightgown? What if he knows EVERY SINGLE MOVE I MAKE? I began to go to his Facebook page daily, trying to gauge by his activity what his state of mind was. Wait! He removed his profile picture! His friends dropped by twenty! He just removed two family members! Oh God…what if he’s suffering a complete psychotic break???

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was actually stalking my stalker! In focusing on his next move,  I was not only allowing myself to be controlled, I was also beginning to mirror (to a lesser extent) his unstable behavior. So I sat down and I wrote him an email laying out my boundaries in terms that could not be misinterpreted: Do not ever contact me again, in any way. I copied someone else on it, so that he could see I was making someone else aware of my statement. Then I clicked send. In my mind, this is over.

Clearly, SASS and I don’t have that Vulcan mind-meld thing going on, because he’s already sent two emails. I am ignoring this and all future contact, unless I begin to feel I need the next step of a restraining order. I can only hope that won’t happen. I do know that I am moving on. No more obsessing about what he will do. He either will respect my wishes or he won’t; I can’t control him, only my own response. I have better things to think about.

So many great blogs in my mind, that will have to stay there until I have the time and energy to give them the attention they deserve! So, in no particular order, are random snippets from this single, soccer mom’s past few weeks:

The quirky artist/Borderline Personality/Sex Addict/Compulsive Eater/Emotionally Stunted ex that I broke up with the end of March, continues to cling to the driftwood of our brief relationship. He has shown up twice in places that he knew I would be. The second time, upon finding me with a male friend, he was very blatantly passive-aggressive and questioned loudly: “Is this the new man?”. The awkwardness of that encounter was clearly not enough, as he drove to my house when he knew I was at work and left a letter on my door (he lives on the other side of town).  The letter detailed all the ways he knew that he had screwed up the relationship, a very clear picture of how much the ending of our relationship had devastated him emotionally (I have cried every day, all day long, since you broke up with me), as well as the fact that he realized now that he could never “replace” me. Seriously? He is close to mourning the relationship for longer than it actually lasted. I decided to not respond in any way. I’m also now locking the double lock on my door and glancing over my shoulder when I am in public. Paranoid? Maybe. If any food goes missing from my house though, I’m installing an alarm system.

Also in the world of “ex” news: One man that I dated for a couple of months got married on Saturday, another just got engaged and yet a third is announcing to the world that he is in love.  It is churlish and petty of me to not be thrilled for them, as I did NOT want to be with them. Still, it stupidly rankles just a tiny bit! Ever seen the movie “Good Luck Chuck”? Yeah…neither have I. However, apparently the premise is that every girl who sleeps with “Chuck” ends up getting married shortly thereafter. Hmmmm…only slept with two of them and this has been over the course of the last four years, so perhaps I’m being premature with my theory. If several more of my ex’s tie the knot soon, I shall be highly suspicious!

Finally, I have been dating someone for six weeks now. We are moving slowly (which is good!) and so far all is well. I’m trying to stay neutral  and just take my time getting to know him. I’m cooking for him at my house tonight, for the first time. My vow of chastity is intact so far and I plan to keep it that way!

Now…off to stuff the children’s things in closets and random corners, stack the piles of laundry in a spare room and hope that the 30 minute nap I attempted to cram in doesn’t show on my face when he arrives!

Somehow, I think this guy would wind up on my Top Ten List of Sexual Blunders. In fact, I don’t even have to sleep with him and he’s already there!

I just want a cute curvy female who is loyal and happy seeing just me an average of every other night. You can spend the night with me whenever basically. I want a woman who loves to suck, who will always want to suck on my cock at night (which will lead to fucking) and who also wants to suck me off in the morning. I want you to deepthroat this beautiful cock, milking it sensually and slowly. You must know how to use your hands as well holding my balls and ass the right way, and stroking me to cumpletion down your throat. Maybe even finger fuck me some as you suck me. Maybe even we can learn to milk my prostate. Must love to swallow. Sometimes I will want to try to gag you and make you puke even. I know this prolly sounds like your typical selfish guy wanting you to do all the work all the time…. but if you are cute and curvy i will want to fuck your brains out all the time as well and I like to do all the work when it comes to fucking. I am kind of a smaller build guy with a nice big beautiful circumsized penis. I am in great shape and have beautiful curly hair. I am white and disease free. I can trade pics or communicate via phone. Hope to hear from the right girl. Totally real here of course.

Is this an ad for a job or an ad for a date? If it’s an ad for a date, then his list of requirements (including being available 24/7) might be a little much. If it is an ad for a job, I can’t help but wonder why he needs the applicant to be no taller than 5’6″ and petite. Hmmm….

Looking for woman that wants to work with me running my Home Improvement business and raising my Son.
Must be tough. Strong willed and responsible. Able to take on all kinds of new things. Never worry to much about money. Just want someone to Spend time with all the time. So if your that person.
Send Photo’s of yourself. And I will respond if I am interested. I’ll know you when I see you.
I am 5′ 6″ 145 athletic build.
Looking for No taller than 5’6″ . petite/athletic/skilled/computer literate/Entrepreneur/Family values/Country girl/Likes camping/hiking/fishing/movies/martial arts/guns/Flowers/messages/Home cooking/ETC.Free spirit/available 24/7/No Kids.
No photo, no phone, no response. If you have a job , you might have to quit, to help me. yes you get paid too.
money not important. ill know when I see you…

See you soon,
****

So, I’ve taken a vow of chastity. Sort of. Today I feel the need to remind myself why I’ve decided to not put out in the near future. Or at least…pretty sure I’m not going to put out…sort of.

Perhaps you can tell I feel conflicted about this.

I’m dating someone new: Thirty-nine year old single father with a sharp wit, strong values, keen sense of responsibility, funny, educated and sexy. We’ve gone out several times over the course of the past month and things are going well. We’re not rushing into anything, simply enjoying each other’s company. Our last date took things to a new level physically. Yes, I can still get excited about a very mild second base! I was determined that things would NOT go further…

I would actually like to feel something other than like and lust for the next person I sleep with, before I sleep with them. Some of the people that I’ve slept with I have ended up falling in love with after the fact. Still, the “putting the cart before the horse” phrase keeps occuring to me. This isn’t a moral stand in any way. I’d just like to go about this in a different way and see if I get different results.

The over-the-top sexual antics and activity with my past relationship left me feeling like I needed a break for awhile; the last five weeks or so have not been a hardship.  Yet frankly, between hormones and the stress of other areas of my life, I feel like jumping my date for tomorrow night. I mean…seriously.

So now my body and heart and mind are in total conflict. My heart and mind are telling me to wait and my body is screaming that if he touches me at all (and I’m fairly confident that he will), all resolve will dissolve. I want this to go s-l-o-w-l-y. The only way to make that happen is to not rush things physically.

Sigh.

Apparently it is time to stock up on batteries.

After some contemplation, I’ve come up with my top ten list of things partners should NOT do in bed. Now, no doubt this list could vary by person. However, I feel that many could agree with me on most, if not all, of these sexual blunders.

1. Don’t call your partner names or be verbally abusive in bed, unless it is mutually desirable. While flaunting your issues with women by yelling out, “Take that, bitch!” or “Yeah, you’re a dirty, fucking whore” might be a turn on for you, it’s probably a good idea to make sure that it’s a turn on for your partner too.
2. Choking your partner during sex (again, unless agreed upon beforehand) should also be off-limits.
3. Spitting on your partner’s genitals as a means of lubrication results in the instant desire for a shower, not the beginning of a great orgasm. I’m not referring to the natural saliva that gets deposited by licking or kissing. I am referring to the act of honking up what sounds like a giant loogie, then spitting it in the “appropriate” spot. Granted, it may be practical and expedient. It is not, however, sexy or endearing.
4. When a woman is performing fellatio, grabbing her head and forcing your penis further down her throat should be considered bad form. It is invasive, controlling and will be unpleasant for you if she vomits during the act. Most women will be uncomfortable, not turned on, by gagging during a blowjob; some women will feel that it is a violation. At the very least, it is disrespectful and selfish. Asking if she is comfortable with trying to take you deeper might be okay. Forcing her to choke on your penis by ramming her head down on it is not!
5. When a woman begins to moan because you are doing something she likes, the translation is: Keep doing that. It does not mean to do it harder, faster or switch to doing something else.
6. If your partner says that something you are doing hurts, stop doing it. Do not: A.) Ignore them or B.) Use a phrase like “Oh, don’t be such a wimp!”
7. Do not make the assumption that your partner is taking care of the birth control. This advice is for either gender. If you make that assumption, be prepared to be either disappointed or a parent. Either are distinct possibilities if you don’t arrive prepared.
8.  Don’t refer to previous sexual partners while you are in bed with your current sexual partner. Remarking on the difference in size or shape of various body parts or making statements like: “Blank was a real freak in bed!” or “Blank was the best at that!” If we didn’t take your virginity, then we know that you have a sexual history. Most of us do not want to know it, nor do we want to be compared to previous partners.
9.   Masturbation in front of your partner should probably be discussed BEFORE you do it. Masturbation ten minutes after you’ve finished the sex act, during post-coital cuddling, is probably a no-no for most people. Imagine making your partner a gourmet meal, which they fully partake of, then having them say “What would really hit the spot right now is a Twinkie!” It would feel a tiny bit insulting and a little diminishing of the meal you just shared. Not to mention that it makes you seem obsessive and weird.
10. Last, but not least…Try not to pee in your partner’s bed. If you should pee in your partner’s bed and opt, out of humiliation, not to tell them, then Do NOT take them to another room in the house and initiate sex, leave, then let them discover the aforementioned pee on their own. Nothing squelches the afterglow of sex like having to change the sheets because of the wrong sort of wet spot. Also, if we have even the tiniest measure of self-respect, we will probably never have sex with you again.

Everytime we open our hearts to someone and let them in, or choose to make a little corner for them in our lives, there is risk. Sometimes the risk pays off and the reward that we get makes it all worthwhile. Sometimes the risk brings  loss, leaving us curled in the fetal position, trying to control the internal bleeding of grief and disappointment and anger. Then again, sometimes we decide to bail out because we decide the risk is too high…

I feel like that is the category that my last relationship falls into. I wanted so badly to love and be loved, that when an attractive and intelligent man professed to be head-over-heels for me, I wanted to believe it. He claimed to want to be a part of every facet of my life, including my children. He said, “I don’t care what we do, as long as I’m with you.” Of course, this also included, “I’d like to hear from you everyday, so that can hear about your day.” Which turned into, “I need to know every thought that comes into your head, everything that is going on with your body and mind and heart at all times, so that I will understand you.”

As the requests morphed from sweet, to demanding, to insecure and a little creepy, I still was trying to convince myself that he just wanted to be a part of my life. When he told me he loved me a month into the relationship, I saw red…flags, that is. When compulsive and addictive behavior started showing up, which seemed to replace former addictions that he’d “conquered”, I felt at a loss for how to handle it. Bizarre interpretations and irrational anger over communications that others would consider normal left me with no choice but to confront that there were problems here.

We met, with me fully prepared to end the relationship after six weeks. Yet, he said all the right things and had such a sweet and all-inclusive apology, that I agreed to continue working on the relationship. We would be honest. We would work through it. Surely, if both of us were willing to do the work to have the relationship, we could make it succeed. Right?

I quickly found that I didn’t enjoy realizing that my honesty would mean very frequent confrontations. How do you even begin to approach the issue of addiction in a relationship, two months in, when the other person acts like you are the one with a problem? How do you relax enough to stop walking on eggshells, if you know that the other person will read too much into every little gesture and nuance? How can you continue to tell yourself that it’s not a problem when your lover calls you a “dirty, fucking whore” in bed nearly everytime when he gets excited? How do you handle nearly constant acts of selfishness, unconsciousness and paranoia? All while being the intense focus of idealization that can’t be based on any reality after so short a period of time?

I realized, with a great amount of sadness, that everytime this man told me he loved me, I had no ability to say it back. Not just because it felt too soon, but also because it felt irresponsible. I felt a cloud of doom hanging over our head the last few weeks, no matter how much I tried to see the rays of beautiful sunshine: His sweet words, his gifts, his moments of clarity and consciousness about shared values, moments of affection. They were overshadowed by the immaturity, compulsiveness, addictive traits, anger issues and bizarre behavior that I couldn’t begin to explain in a logical way.

No matter how much I wanted it to work, I knew that it simply wasn’t going to. So I counted the risks and I found them too high. Staying would have been the wrong decision, possibly even dangerous emotionally. The thought of telling him I was leaving made me physically ill. Yet, he left me with little choice. The calm and gentle speech that I had prepared to have face-t0-face morphed into an awkward break-up over the phone. It didn’t go well. His contact with me since then has left little doubt as the the intensity of his grief; he has made it very painfully clear what he is going through and that he doesn’t understand. I feel sick at hurting him, yet still know ending it was right.

I looked up Addictive Personality Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder today. He fits both profiles nearly perfectly. This was not a man with some quirks, as I originally thought. This is a man who has deep damage and needs professional help.

Every relationship brings risk. As I sit here tonight, sad at the loss of the hope that he represented to me and a lot guilty at having brought him pain, I am wondering just how much risk I’m up to dealing with these days. Is being hurt or hurting someone else on the quest for love worth it?