Tag Archives: sex

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The Sexy Love: Mr. Fling

What happens when you mix a girl who hasn’t been touched in months with a tall, charming, and sexy man in uniform?

For me, Mr. Fling is what happened.

Now, as I’ve said in an earlier post, I’m quite particular about who I allow in my bedroom. I tend to think having sex should be like making love– or you should at least very strongly like and trust the person you share that intimate side of yourself with. I try to stick close to my morals and beliefs and encourage my friends to do the same– but sometimes, a gal slips up.

During my junior year of college, which happened to be quite the “dry spell” with dating for me – I ran into an ex-boyfriend from high school, Mr. Fling in my hometown’s mall. It had been years since I’d seen the guy and when my mom pointed him out to me – my jaw just about hit the pretzel stand across from me.

He caught my eye, smiled, walked over and gave me a huge, friendly, welcoming hug. Blushing, I’m sure, I told him how great he looked and we discussed meeting up for dinner before I went back to school. As we parted, we both turned our heads to watch the other walk away – and something inside of me said I’d be seeing a lot more of him.

Within a few days, we were texting and chatting away – just like no time had ever passed between us. We talked about our short-lived relationship in high school and how I broke up with him without notice or warning and how it hurt him. I told him how at the time, I wasn’t ready to enter into a relationship and I knew he wanted something serious, as he was getting ready to join the Armed Forces. In some way, we amended the strain between us…only to create a different kind of tension.

On New Year’s Eve, I woke up to an empty house and a good morning message from Mr. Fling. He was coming back from the base for the weekend and wanted to see if I was available to hang out. For whatever reason, I decided it would be an excellent idea to let him know I just got out of bed and was fully free in an empty house. He quickly responded and said he’d be at my doorstep in 45 minutes and we should get lunch.

Being the extreme girly-girl I am, I freaked out knowing I had less than hour to get ready before this gorgeous man would be in front of me – so I sprinted to the shower, quickly put on make-up and panties, and as I was getting ready to blow-dry my hair…I heard a car pulling into the driveway.

When he said 45 minutes, he really meant 25 minutes, apparently. Because I was flustered, I hurried and wrapped a towel around myself, my hair still curly and wet, and answered the door saying, “I’m sorry! I’m not ready yet, just let me get some clothes on and we can go grab lunch.”

With a mischievous grin, he took off his Army beret, pulled me close to him and kissed me.

Our lips hadn’t touched since we were kids in high school – but he tasted just as he used to. And his smell was still that tough, yet gentle man odor that we all swoon over so easily. Without hesitation, he picked me up, pushed me up against the wall, and ripped off my towel.

The rest of what happened, I’ll just leave to the imagination.

Mr. Fling and I had no intention of actually dating each other again – and for whatever reason, it didn’t bother me too much to allow myself to explore with him. We still talked constantly, he was there for me when I needed him to be, we chatted on the phone, and when we were both in town at the same time – we had “lunch.”

If I’m really honest with myself, there were moments when I felt used or when I felt guilty for allowing myself to be this personal with someone who I knew didn’t love me in the way that I hope to be loved one day. Sometimes I felt really dirty and I grew attached to him over the course of our courtship. And often times, I felt the need to be validated by his affection – either through his touch or his reassuring words. Even though in my head, I knew I didn’t want to be his girlfriend (we never really clicked as a couple), my heart wanted sex to mean more than just…well, sex. While our history made me trust him and know he wouldn’t do anything on purpose to cause me pain – there is something about doing-the-deed with someone that just pulls you closer then you ever expect it will.

Sex is a personal thing and it’s often times…quite messy. There are so many different elements to worry about beyond just STDs and bringing a baby into the world. I was lucky that I had confidence Mr. Fling as my friend and so really our “friends-with-benefits” was mutually accepted by both of us, so feelings didn’t get hurt either way when one of us moved on. I didn’t have romantic expectations, but I know that’s not always the case.

I can’t speak for the women who do allow themselves to be intimate with strangers or can go home with someone they don’t know, I can only share what I’ve learned from my experience with Mr. Fling.

Partly because I know how sensitive I am and how much I invest into a relationship…and well, I’m a self-proclaimed love addict –I’ve been very careful about who I’ve shared my love and my body with. It wouldn’t be smart for me to get sexually involved with someone who I know I could fall for or would want them to fall for me – so until I’m at that healthy stage in my recovery, there may be a little less action than this gal would prefer. And probably, somewhere along the way, I may find myself drawn in – but that’s part of the journey, too.

As I’ve said before, I don’t have regrets and I intend on keeping it that way. Each experience, even if I have done the inevitable walk-of-shame, has brought me one step closer to finding peace in myself and loving who I am – without coulda, woulda, shoulda getting in the way.

Because I shoulda not answered that door only wearing a towel, I coulda refused his kiss and his touch, and I woulda still enjoyed a nice lunch with a great man…but then I wouldn’t have this story to tell or all that I learned from having a steamy afternoon. Or  maybe two. Or three.

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Breaking New Ground

As a thank you for listening to and helping him with a difficult period in his life – Mr. Unavailable, the “New Yorker” (I don’t know Queens technically counts), wanted to show me a night on the town from his perspective. Even though there wasn’t an underlying romantic notion, we both called it “The New York Date”.

He treated me to a chocolate diner, dinner and drinks, followed by a comedy show – and though neither of us is interested in dating one another, it was nice to be around a guy, without putting that pressure on myself. Where I knew there was no need to impress or to dazzle, but instead just be myself (and be accepted for it). I don’t know if I truly believe men and women can ever be friends (thank you, When Harry Met Sally), without a little tension, but for the time being, I’m enjoying the friendly company.

Mid-date, as limos passed by and lights flashed around me; I silently looked out the window of The Standard Hotel’s restaurant in downtown Manhattan and in what seemed like an hour, but was only barely a minute, I caught myself spacing out. I turned to my “date”, smiled and he all-so casually asked me: What are you thinking about over there?

I felt myself blush, smiled back at him, and replied: I just can’t believe this is my life. To think of where I was a year ago and where I am right now – it’s amazing. I’m right where I’ve always wanted to be. It’s real.

Knowing all about the grand adventure to the big city, he grinned and even though we haven’t known each other very long he confidently said: “And you did all of this.”

Now of course, I’ve known that moving to New York, landing my job, and finding an apartment was all of my own doing. If the pavement would have fallen out from underneath me – there would have been no one else to blame but myself. And if I happen to see the whole world crash down around me tomorrow – that’s all on my shoulders, too.

But somehow, in that easy moment with beautiful people surrounding me (and one sitting across from me), the street lights shining in on my face, and a flirty pear-tini in front of me – it sunk in.

It’s not that it took a man for me to realize I’ve “partially made it” – but rather, it was the feeling that I felt in the pit of my stomach so intensely that it made me catch my breath. I could have been anywhere and felt that sensation inside of me. Here in this fancy restaurant that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to afford on my own, it occurred to me that I was living in the moment.

I’ve talked about how I have been doing more of the here-and-the-now lately, and that’s true – but in that experience, in that twilight, I broke new ground.

I realized there is no pushing or pulling or waiting or hoping to live in New York. Or to work in publishing or to be a writer. Given, I don’t think I’ll ever stop working towards the next thing in terms of my career and a fabulous apartment – but the act of actually getting here…is done. I don’t have to pull my hair out wondering if I’ll ever get a byline or pushing myself into reality when I get too-down-in-the-dumps about the cost of living in the city (you really just have to grin and bare it).

And even more impressive, there I was, in a silk dress, my hair curled up on a date with a man I know I’ll never actually date. Not because there is anything wrong with him or wrong with me or wrong with the time we do spend together – but because we’re really just friends. For anyone else, this isn’t a revelation, but for me to willingly be okay with simple friendship with a man I’m attracted to – is also stomping out a completely new pavement.

Because for once, it didn’t matter if I was courting him or if I wanted a relationship or if I didn’t. There were no expectations and I didn’t feel the need to live up to any standard, any qualification, or any look. He’s not my Mr. Right (like I’m not his Mrs) and even if he was, those rules for being perfect no longer apply – because of the progress I’ve made on this journey.

For the duration of our friendship, he’s always been a very vocal and open guy who says he sees big things ahead of me (I won’t disagree) and that I should live and do everything I’ve wanted. I should think on my toes while planning ahead. I shouldn’t let love get away before there is time to say just how much they mean to me. I should travel and I should speak and communicate with the same honesty in which I write. And of course, I should never stop being the me that I am and never compromise any of my own character for a man, for a career – for anything.

He’s right. And yes, I did just agree with a man. Part of why this experience has no age-limit and no selected amount of time that it’ll last is because it’s all about how I feel and about me –  as a person who has genuine down days, up days, and all that’s in between. Even if that me, at times, doesn’t live in the moment as easily as I did on Saturday evening. And even if I’ve let love get away or not taken that study abroad because to me, New York is a completely different country.

There is so much more to look forward to, chances to take, lessons to learn, and people to meet, like Mr. Unavailable, for whatever reason – come into your life and help you realize and accept things that have been right before your eyes for months. So why worry about what tomorrow will bring or why yesterday was an awful mess?

Why not, instead, keep chasing the pavement of today until I break a new surface that reveals a whole new chapter, a whole new…me?

Following our dinner, he wanted to show me the highline, which is where old ground-level train tracks were preserved into a trail with breath-taking views. We strolled along and looked at the skyline and I pointed out again, that there were in fact, stars in New York. (See, Queens doesn’t count!)

As we were walking, I must have been unusually quiet and again, he asked me “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

If I was on a serious date, as the pre-recovery me, I probably would have shook my head enthusiastically and not talked about how I was feeling. But not this time. Instead, I was truthful and with my whole heart replied, “I’m really, truly, just happy, right here, right now.”

And I still am.

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Today, I Pick Me

I’m afraid that every man I ever date will always pick another woman over me.

There, I said it.

As someone who is pretty self-confident and considers herself successful, independent, and attractive – it is so hard to admit feeling inadequate. And this fear that swells up in my heart and my eyes frequently is a big one to overcome.

Part of this journey is noticing trends, both in my past and in my current thinking, and one thing I’ve always battled is not feeling “good enough” or “pretty enough” or “cool enough”. I know I have alluring qualities and I’m easy to be around, but when it comes to hooking a  guy and keeping his interest, I tend to feel like there is always another girl out there who does it better.

With all of the men I’ve dated (Mr. Faithful, Mr. Rebound, Mr. Fire, Mr. Curls, Mr. Buddy, and most recently Mr. Idea), they all found and fell in love with another girl shortly after things ended with me. For some it was a month or two, or a few weeks, and with one, only a day. Knowing that these men who I’ve given parts of myself to, both literally and emotionally, can just move on to the next gal without batting an eyelash has made me feel so invisible. And even more so, like my love, my presence, my feelings were just disposable.

I’ve made a vow to not bash anyone – male or female – on this blog, but rather talk about what I’ve learned, instead of what I resent. However, the women who have followed after me have been completely opposite of me. Given, I don’t know them very well (or if at all), but they look and act differently. They have totally dissimilar interests or goals or ways of speaking or looking at life.

While I don’t think there is anything wrong with these women, and if I actually spent time with any of them, I may hit it off and we’d be the best of friends (though I doubt it) – what does it say about me that men I’ve loved or dated, have made complete 360’s in the post-me gal they choose to date?

And what about the fact that all of them have not only started dating another woman, but fell madly in love with them, too? Or for the ones who wouldn’t agree to commit to me, they suddenly can be exclusive with someone else?

While I’ve made progress in this journey and feel more in-tuned with who I am and what I want, and especially what I deserve – I still compare myself to most girls and I still wonder, “When a guy could have any of the beautiful women who grace and strut the streets of Manhattan – why, oh, why, would he pick me? And if he does, won’t he just pick someone else later?”

I think the new question I need to be asking myself is: “Why do I think it’s about him chosing me?”

I’m not a pro on relationships (honestly, I don’t think anyone ever truly is), but to be “successful” in a relationship, you have to pick one another. I think that magical, mystical, and unbelievable passion is there at the beginning, but after a while, and especially when you’re married – you choose to stay in love. You choose to preserve the reasons and the feelings and the memories of why you agreed to be together in the first place. And while those men I dated chose me at some point, over the course of the relationship, we stopped chosing one another, and they inevitably picked another one out of the single-lady-fied line. And eventually, I picked someone else, too.

It’s not about deciding to go to another girl over me or not being good enough – it’s a matter of the difficult choices we make in life and in love every minute, moment, hour, and day. It’s not me. It’s not her. It’s not him. It’s just the natural progression of being in, falling into, and getting out of a relationship. And though I realize this, I think I’ll have to still aim to be genuinely happy for each of them…one day.

A part of me knows that I’ll chose someone one day and he will pick me, too – a larger part of me has decided against selecting a man right now. Because my life isn’t defined about what happened in my past or what man is in my life. It’s not about the girl with the long, brown, hair and pretty smile. Or the woman who takes the place in the bed where I used to lay. And it’s not about why the man decided to walk away or allow me to leave. It’s not about them – it’s about this woman, right here, looking back me in this mirror, in this tiny NYC apartment.

And today, this woman picks herself.

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The Writing on the Wall

Somewhere in this big, beautiful city, is a man. I have no idea what he looks like, what he does, where he’s from, where he lives now, or what his name is. But, as my mother, fate, and storybooks say: when I meet him, there will be this moment when I just know.

In a place where I pass strangers so often that if I walked by them more than once, I’d never know – it can be difficult (or rather impossible) to believe there is this one person who I’m destined to spend my life with. As far as I know, I could have walked by him every morning for the last eight months or been in the same train with him, just different cars. He could be two floors above my office or not even living in NYC right now (although my gut says he is).

Even though I love my life exactly how it is currently and I really don’t feel that intense urge to have a boyfriend as I used to – of course, one day, I hope to feel that magical intensity with the man I’ll call my husband. And there are days when I feel that fear in the pit of my stomach and the deepest corners of my heart that screams: “What if he’s not out there?”

This idea of everlasting love and until-death-do-we-part and happily-ever-after is heavy. It weighs down on you with pressure and anxiety and gut-wretching worry that if I don’t find that, if I don’t find him, if I don’t get married and don’t have kids – what will become of my life? Will I still be able to find happiness? Could I (and would I want to) be able to feel this peaceful feeling as a single gal, forever? (Take a deep breath).

Ladies Night is every Thursday at a bar that I frequent and all the girls get $2 margaritas and drafts, along with half-priced appetizers. This place offers frickles (fried pickles) and that’s more than enough of a reason to go back more than once for me. With a bladder about as big as a dime, I’m always the girl who has to get up and go to the bathroom several times in a short period (and yes, I’m fine going alone).

On my second trip to the bathroom, I noticed rather large writing to my left. At first, I just read “I love Adam Forever” and didn’t think anything of it. But as I stood up, I saw in a smaller writing: “He’s NOT the One, but he’s out there. Believe. I’m trying to.”

For the rest of the night, I thought about how powerful that single phrase is. And how much it represents what I feel the majority of the time. I see a guy or go on a date and I know the chemistry isn’t there and I have to remind myself, “Its okay, Linds. This isn’t the guy, but he’s out there. Keep your hope up! Love yourself!” And finding that special peace, that serenity as a single girl is not easy. You dress yourself up, put on your favorite heels, maybe buy some new earrings, and shave away everything  – just to realize he’s just another Mr, not the Mr you thought he could be.

And god, it’s so frustrating.

Even though I feel like I’m at a happy place and pace with this journey, it is so normal to get disappointed. Part of what keeps me going is this blog (thank all of you!), my friends, and this idea that I have a bigger purpose with my writing and in doing this. In some cosmic way, I have this notion that I’m destined to be single. At least for right now and probably, not forever. I look at it like this: I literally will spend the majority of my life married (most likely), and although keeping the faith high is a constant battle, single is what I need right now.

Learning to depend on myself and more importantly, to believe in something bigger than me, and taking off all of this pressure and worries – allows me the ability to really figure out who I am. To see the writing on the wall, to face myself in the mirror, and to stand tall, even when I want to burst into tears on a second date because it’s so awful. To go out on Ladies Night and be focused on my girls, instead of the slew of men so into a hockey game that they refuse to turn around, even once.

So even though the man I will marry (and yes, I believe he exists) is somewhere on this planet, living, breathing, doing his own single (or not) thing, and even though I may have walked past him, shook his hand, or caught a glimpse of him – I know I’m not ready to fall for him. Not yet, not today.

And for those moments when I feel like I can’t accept being single or I’m lonely or feel ugly and not-sexy, when I can’t find that self-love, when I can’t see how much I truly have going for me – I’ve got this space, my amazing pals– and strangers, who write on bathroom walls, to remind me that no matter what, I’m never, ever alone.

 

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The Here-And-Now

I’ve only been a self-proclaimed love addict for just-shy of two months now. But as I said at the beginning, I’ve been battling with these constant thoughts and fears of “being single forever” and “not being good enough” and “men just don’t fall in love with me” for a very long time. Basically, my entire adult (ehh…and teen?) life.

I can think back to times in college (and even post-grad in some deeply-obsessive moments) when I would literally force myself not to look at my phone for allotted amounts of time. Because somehow, if I didn’t actually glance at my cell phone for say, 10 minutes, the Mr of the Week would text me back in a more timely fashion (instead of hours later or if at all). And then once he would text, I would make sure to double the amount of time it took him to respond…so I would seem aloof and unavailable. Because men want that, right?

Even if in reality, I was nervously twitching on my couch, eating chocolate pudding, and distracting myself painting my fingernails, and analyzing any possible hidden meaning between the two lines in his latest text. And if it I so desired, forwarding the text to my dearest (and supportive) friends to see if they deciphered something I didn’t.

Now, since this recovery journey started, I haven’t exactly met someone I could actually see myself with (other than Mr. Unavailable, but we all know how that story goes) – so I haven’t tested my reaction to texting conversations. However, a few changes in my habits and perceptions have noticeably changed:

Literally Busy (Not Faking It)

If I was to meet a new Mr and I did happen to swoon over him – I’m not quite sure where I would fit him into my life. And really, those longing romantic notions that I have always had, have tapered away a bit…maybe because I haven’t had the time to nourish them. In between working 40 plus hours a week at the business magazine, managing big dream-promoter, ChickSpeak, writing this blog, running daily, and attempting to have a social life –I find myself thinking sometimes: Now, why was I so obsessed with a boyfriend?

There’s no way I could fit a serious, committed relationship into this schedule – and really, I’m getting to a point where I’m almost (dare I say it?) happy to be single! I still have days when I want to cuddle or sneak a kiss or be paid a compliment – but I really feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. And for once, I’m okay with it.

Being More at Peace

I’ve never been one to think in the here-and-the-now, probably due to what I call “hyper-ambition” – but recently, I’ve noticed a shift in my thought processes. I tend to look at things with more of a practical perspective instead of an emotional one.

For example, last week I was in fact expecting a text message from Mr. Unavailable, and even though he’s not someone I want to date, he was taking longer than usual, and a little voice inside my head pleaded: “But what if you never hear from him again, then what? That would be the most awful thing on the entire planet. What would you do?” In the past, when these pestering worries would come up, I’d play into them and sincerely freak myself out. But this time, I thought, “Well, I’d be fine. I’ll still go to work tomorrow and get to have that fun girl’s night out next week. Oh, and I have that event to look forward to.” I’m learning to throw away the negativity and the obsession and turn it into optimism and reality. And in return, I’m getting out of my head and feeling more at peace with my life and myself.

Freeing from Frustrations

Of all of the things chasing a dream by myself has taught me, the most important one has been to enjoy my own company. While I never feel alone in the city (because it keeps me company just by being so alive and inviting), there are many evenings and days that I spend alone. And honestly, some of those moments are my favorite. Exploring the town is fun with a pal, but you notice more when you’re just with yourself. And instead of wishin’ and hopin’ that my hand was being held by a man, I’ve grown to enjoy it being held by a Macy’s bag or a hot apple cider, instead.

However, not putting pressure on myself to “meet someone” or “flirt with a dude” or “go out for the sake of romantic possibility” has allowed me to just…relax. I’m not afraid to spend an evening just dancing and not have one single dude buy me a drink. I’m learning not to look at a guy in some bar in some area on some (or every) night, lusting at the thought that he could be my Mr. Right. Currently, the best nights I have are spent laughing away, cherishing my youth, and if a man happens to walk in and shake up evening –then be it.

If not, I’m still ridiculously thankful to be right here, right now, just me…and the me I’m becoming. My, oh my, what’s next?