Guess who’s coming to dinner?

Oh sure. You all laughed back in October at my Halloween crisis. You thought I was joking when I said Thanksgiving would trigger something worse. You snickered about turkey suits and poked fun. But here we are, Thanksgiving is next week… and I’m writing to tell you that LC is coming to dinner.

It started rather innocently about a week and a half ago. I asked what his plans for the turkey day are. His family is all in another state and obviously he has no wife to spend the holiday with, so his grand plan was to sit at home alone and play video games. Gentle readers, you too would have tried to rescue him from that. I mean seriously. It made me sad. So without thinking twice about it, I invited him to spend the holiday with my mother and I. I even offered to cook.

The look on his face was kind of priceless. His eyes popped a little as he tried to figure out what to say. After mere seconds I realized I had inspired a bit of panic. So I waved it off. Just a thought, I said. No need to answer now. Think about it later. Let’s get some more beer. Is it time for our movie yet? And so it was dropped. But now it was out there, you know?

So a couple days ago I realized I needed to get an answer from him. I couldn’t just assume he was coming, nor could I assume he wasn’t. And all my plans hung in the balance. Because without a third person at the table, I refused to cook. But with one, we had a choice. My mother got kind of excited about the prospect of a home cooked meal. And I knew I had to have an answer. But I didn’t know how to bring it up without making him nervous. So I did nothing.

And as it turns out, I didn’t have to. Two days ago, out of the blue, LC sends me a one line email… “So, you still up for thanksgiving?” I was kind of dumbfounded. I immediately doublechecked to make sure he understood it would be at my mother’s place. That her kitchen is understocked so I’d have to take a million and one things with me just to achieve this. That we’d be there for a while since nothing goes into the oven until I appear. That my mother would indeed actually be there. None of that mattered… he was all in.

And so it goes that LC and I are spending Thanksgiving together. With my mother. At his request. And I’m cooking. Right. This is going to be ok, right?

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Not Fair

Apparently I am not as cool as I wish I was. I mean, I thought I was cool. I was calm. I didn’t lose my head or anything. I am so over this, right? Oh sure. And that’s why one of my closest friends pointed out to me this weekend that I have told her my ex is engaged every single time I’ve seen her since it happened.

That’s right, my ex is engaged. And I’m not taking it well.

It doesn’t seem fair, you know? I have two ex-husbands now. Two of them. Not to imply that I’m a perfect angel, because I’m not. But both of them did something pretty terrible to me. So it seems like in some karmic way I should come out on top, right? Of course.

Except ex #1 is married to the girl he slept with while we were married and they have a son now. And ex #2 has hauled off and gotten engaged to the girl he was dating while he was trying to get me back. And what of me? That’s right, I’m living alone without a boyfriend or even a cat.

Singlegal reminded me today that I’m not the only one. That I’m normal. But that doesn’t stop me from joining her in her virtual temper tantrum. Or from thinking that it’s simply not fair.

I was the one who was wronged. I was the one who was hurt. I was the one who did the right thing. And I’m the only one who’s still alone. So you see, it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that I’m also the one who goes to bed alone every night. That I’m the one who is starved for human touch. That I’m the one who still cries themself to sleep some nights. That I’m the one who is starting to think I’m meant to be alone and never meant to have children.

Ironically, I don’t want either of these men. I am happier without them, and that’s not a line. I don’t regret leaving in either case. I’m not sorry.

But still, it’s not fair. And I want to be over it. I want to be ok with this, but I’m not. I’m not fine. I’m not cool. And I haven’t been able to let go yet. And that makes me angrier than their newborn son or their engagement announcement. The fact that I can’t let go is what weighs on me now. I want to be over it. I want to be done. So why aren’t I?

Yesterday as I laid down for a nap I dreamed of ex #2. I dreamed he sent me pictures of his new apartment with his new fiancee. I dreamed he told me how he was doing things right with her even though he didn’t with me. Then, in my dream, I somehow let myself in while they weren’t home, and looked around. It was a beautiful place. What I might have wanted with him once upon a time. And just as I went to leave, he came home. I ran and hid and then abruptly woke up with my heart pounding.

I wish I were a bigger person than this, but apparently I’m not. I wish I were over this, but apparently I’m not. I wish I were better than this, but apparently I’m not.

And sometimes, life just isn’t fair.

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Please advise

You know, I was going to be all coy about this. But I’ve decided that I’m not coy about anything else and that’s not the point of having a cartoon character avatar anyway. So I’m just going to throw this on out there. And maybe you all can help me figure it out.

I like LC. In fact, I really like LC. So much so that the height thing has ceased to matter. I like spending time with him. In fact, I’d even like to spend more time with him than we have been up until now. I invited him to dinner with my friends on Sunday. And to something with me next week. And I suggested that maybe he should consider spending Thanksgiving with me.

I know, I know. It’s ok. I’ll give you a moment to pick yourself up off the floor after that last one.

But… there’s always a but, right? There is a problem. And in my mind, it’s a big problem. He uhhhh… can’t seem to seal the deal. If you know what I mean.

I mean, we’ve had a few overnights now. He is a cuddly sleeper by the way. I do like that. But once you slide between the sheets, and before the cuddly sleeping part…. you know. There are certain activities that are likely to occur. We are both attracted to each other. We are both kind of touchy feely folks. I’m in my 30s, and we’ve already discussed what that means. So, you know, there it is. And everything starts off quite lovely. Except, it doesn’t finish that way. In fact, it doesn’t really finish at all. It just ends rather abruptly. Sometimes with an excuse, sometimes not. But end it does, and not to mutual satisfaction. And it certainly isn’t for lack of trying on my part.

I have paid careful attention to what he likes, and try to make sure I exceed those needs. I have tried asking if there’s something he needs or that I could do differently. I have tried taking control and taking care of him that way.

So now we’re at an impasse. I have never been here. I am afraid to talk about it because that seems like it would just make matters worse. I am afraid to initiate anything for fear of putting undue pressure on LC. And I’m even more afraid that I will never be properly laid again.

So I like him. I like him a lot. But is there any chance this will ever right itself? Because I imagine this to be a complete deal breaker if it’s not a workable situation. And for once, I am in serious need of advice. Especially from the boys. Please.

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This one’s for the boys

Today I would like to abandon all obsessing about boys past, present, and future, and instead discuss something very serious. Indeed, the topic I have in mind is one that weighs on me heavily, as it does on many of my peers I am sure. I am talking, of course, about nature’s cruelest joke of all… the unsynchronized nature of men’s and women’s sex drives.

Boys, if you will… imagine yourself at 18 or 20. You were probably pawing madly at whatever girl you were with at the time. Your nearly every thought was consumed by the devil in your pants. It clouded your vision basically all the time. It would be easier to discuss the times you were not thinking about, plotting, or wishing for sex. Because the times you weren’t, well… they were few and far between if they existed at all. And that girl, the one who was the object of your lusty affections? Was probably wondering why the hell you couldn’t just keep your damn hands off her already. And by the way, don’t you ever think about anything else? (The answer, for the record, was no. No you didn’t. But you probably tried to lie about it anyway.) The point was, we totally didn’t get it.

I’ll admit to my part in this little drama. I was that girl. I mean sure, we liked all that stuff. But we wanted to not always be naked and grabbing at each other, you know? We wanted to feel like more to you. And it’s not like we never gave it up. We just didn’t do it as much as you apparently wanted us to. And we really didn’t know why on earth you were behaving like that anyhow.

That is, until we turned 30. Most men at this age have gotten some degree control over their trouser snakes and are living a more balanced existence. And hooray for you. Our 18-year-old selves are pleased as punch. Unfortunately our 30-year-old selves really wish you’d take off your pants and make yourself useful. I mean, don’t get me wrong here. We love that you take us out for nice dinners and really enjoy spending time with us. We totally realize that you see us as whole people now and appreciate who we are. But, you know, we really kind of wish you could do all that while naked and on top of us too please.

Ironically, at 30 most of you are a bit less amused by the idea of going at it three times a day*. A couple times a week would do you just fine. And you wish we’d see you for more than a thrill ride and really appreciate who you are as a person. We, on the other hand, spent years evaluating who you are. We are glad we took that time too. I mean, we’re still totally interested in that. But there’s no reason we can’t learn still more about you while also separating you from those pesky boxer briefs that seem to always be in the way. And if you need a break in that area, we totally understand. But, you know, there are other ways to meet our needs. Just ask… we’d be glad to make a list for you.

Men, I’d like you to know that we are deeply sorry about how we acted when you were 18. Truly we are. It wasn’t actually our fault though. You see, nature has a cruel sense of humor. Back then, we didn’t know what it was like, and nature just totally failed us on that front. With every birthday I start to think she’s actually kind of a cruel bitch with one twisted sense of humor. But that aside, most of us are more than willing to atone for our former sins. All you need to do to receive our apology is… well… to take off your pants. I promise, it’ll totally be worth your while. I mean, some things really do improve with age.  And for the right man? I’m more than happy to demonstrate.

* If you actually still do want it three times a day? Please send your number. I know someone who would love to meet you.

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