No bullshit

The holidays are approaching and being alone for them makes me sad, again and always. It’s been 3+ weeks since I’ve seen G. and I know as the holidays arrive I’ll see him even less. The beautiful boy will fade, everyone will focus on whatever else they need to go do and I’ll be here, with my coupled-up friends, alone again. I am, truly, devastated. I never once thought I’d end up alone in life, and my little heart may very well break from the tragedy.

So a couple of days after the birthday date, C. texts and I come dashing home from Soho to meet him, on his way back from Brooklyn. Oh! beard grown out from days on vacation, he looks cuter and older. Like the other day, immediate molestation in the hallway. I’m naked before I know what’s what. But joy! I come with him easily, effortlessly. He comes in my mouth. We lie there and chat for a while, fuck a second time. He’s brought condoms this time so he doesn’t have to worry about pulling out. I don’t enlighten him to the fact that it doesn’t matter. He’s a complete knucklehead but I really do like him.

So Bad Annie had a birthday date with the beautiful boy and it was wonderful and horrible. He arrived and oh! so adorable. Immediate molestation in the hallway. He said, early on: “I have a confession to make. I’ve really missed you.” I do so completely adore him.

We had sex for a long time. He really wanted me to give in, give up, to be brutal with him. He wanted me to hit him, to love him, to come and make him come. I’m really just not that girl. I’ll do anything — really. but I don’t have that emotional core he’s looking for, I just don’t. We fucked for four hours. I didn’t come at all. We fucked every possible way. He didn’t come until the very end when he basically masturbated with my assistance.

I don’t know if he loves me or is completely disappointed with me, or both. I felt like I’d let him down.

Bad Annie went on a second date with the chaste boy, ended up making out on his couch and then fled. Yes, I had a second date that evening with the beautiful boy, but it was more than that …. honestly, I think if he was just going to be another on the roster of lovers I don’t care about, I might have gone through with it. But he wants a girlfriend and I had a moment of thinking about that and I’m so not doing that with him. Sigh. I suck at breakups.

I attribute my longevity to date to my mother: without fear of her reaction, I’d have committed suicide long ago. So, thanks Mom. I love you!

I am, truly, not the girl you take home to mom & dad. I am not the girl you date. I am the girl you call last-minute for sex, when it’s mutually convenient. I am never the girl who goes home for the holidays, goes to your corporate dinner party or even meets your friends.

Bad Annie went on a ‘real’ date yesterday and barely knew how to conduct herelf. After a chaste kiss goodbye I wasn’t sure if I’d failed somehow or if that’s how it’s supposed to go.

At this point in my life, shouldn’t I be able to be my true fulfilled self and still be able to be with a partner? WTF. I’ve been completely deceived.

I paid my respects in public, but any mourning must be done in private. His funeral is not exactly where his wife wants to hear how he once said he’d leave her for me. I don’t know for certain if M. knows, or if H. does, but I suspect no one knew. And M. certainly doesn’t know the extent of it, or how many trade secrets he shared those nights in the hotel. And now it’s just me, and I can’t share it with anyone.

I only slept with him the first time to see if he’d actually go through with it. Sex with him was awful, but we saw each other for a long time. Maybe close to two years? I don’t remember exactly. I just couldn’t bring myself to end it, I really don’t know why. I was never in love with him, but I do feel his loss. I think losing a lover, however long ago, has a special poignancy. Even if you can’t even tell your closest friends.

(For the record, dear reader, in case you didn’t know, the secrecy is due to the fact that I worked for him, as did many of my friends. They would be truly shocked.)

So I saw G. the other night and we had the most loving, tender sex I may have ever had. I went over, we had a couple of drinks, went to bed. He cupped one hand around my buttocks and with the other stroked me – was physically very insistent that I have an orgasm, no faking it, not going to let up until I did. That doesn’t sound very loving, but it was, truly, and I think partly because he held me so close the whole time. I tried to arouse him, but as is often the case at night, he wasn’t erect, so we fell asleep. And like magic, he wakes up with a giant hard-on and fucks me in the approaching dawn. It was just lovely. After, we lay there with my head on his chest and he lightly stroked my back and face for a long time. I wouldn’t have moved for the world.

So I did see C again – he had to come into the city to pick up credentials for a triathlon, so he stopped by. I’m delighted to report that he’s just as sexy sober, and I really do like him. Maybe I’ll become his Manhattan girl… probably the most I can hope for, he is a firefighter and presumably has a lot of options. I should be careful about my expectations here.

More later, dear readers; we have a lot to catch up on. Not the least of which is my new friend C, who I picked up at a dodgeball game at the WPFG.

I assumed it was a one-time thing and was grateful for it. But something told me I might hear from him on the 10 yr anniversary– and I did. but I couldn’t meet him, I was upstate and he was out of commission by the time I was back.

Again, assumed that was the end of it. But then I heard from him again tonight. And couldn’t meet him, again. my sister is visiting and stying here and I just couldn’t. but he said it was okay and he’d be in touch and….

i can’t stop dreaming about a future with him.
how fucked up is that?