I haven’t written in a while, I guess. I did finally give up on Kyle — great sex but he’s just too damaged. I’m still seeing the beautiful boy and I’ve decided it’s just going to have to be okay to be a little bit in love with him. He slept over with me the first night in my new apartment, it was so nice. We’re seeing each other somewhat more regularly now — he told me I have to initiate dates, too, and not just wait for him. I’m trying really hard not to call him every fucking day.

And my fireman is awesome. He came over tonight – was driving back up from Virginia, stopped in for a quick fuck. I guess the denim mini was effective, he fucked me standing up in the middle of the apartment. Popped in the shower and dashed out to meet some friends. I fucking love it.

Do I still wish I had a ‘real’ boyfriend? Maybe. But I’m pretty happy with my two lovers.

Saw the beautiful boy last night. Met for dinner (another date!), ate sushi for the first time, came back and fucked. I really do so like him. We are both so open with each other and much more sexually exploratory than with others. It’s really, really nice.

The night before I was at the local bar. Came home with three phone numbers, including a couple who won’t fucking stop calling me. I told them the next day it wasn’t happening – I don’t fuck where I drink. They’ll figure it out eventually.

So life is full of complications and contradictions and I’m sleeping with a fireman and a beautiful 27 year old and who knows what’s up with Kyle and if he thinks I’m somehow being faithful to him while he’s so erratic. And i decided none of it matters. I love them all and I’m having a grand time and I’m just going to live with it.

I loved lying there, talking with the beautiful boy after sex, so open and loving and honest.

A brief recap: Kyle flaked on a date over Chinese New Year’s, I got mad, swore I was breaking up. Made up that Tuesday (played hooky again from work to see him) and he proposed. I said yes even though I knew as I was saying it that there was at best a 50/50 chance he was serious. Oh and he told me he was having a baby in May with his ex. I actually think that’s kind of cool — I do love babies, and I don’t want to make any. Kind of seemed like a good deal.

On again off again. Another broken date, another few days of not hearing from him. Saw him briefly, again on his schedule, then another broken promise, haven’t heard from him since Friday.

This time I’m not mad. I’ve decided he has a lot going on his life, clearly more than he’s willing to share right now, and he’s not mature enough to deal with it well. I’m going to give him the space to figure it out and if he pulls through, great, and if not, I’m not going to wrap up my self identity or my well being in it.

I realized that he acts like a married man: he won’t let me visit him at home, he seems like he has no control over his schedule, he won’t stay over. Maybe he’s still living with the ex?

In any case, I do wish he was capable of sharing. Or communicating in any way. But he can’t.

So I’m not staying faithful unless he can pull it together to see me more regularly. My fireman texted today and I’m going to see him tomorrow. And I’m not telling Kyle, whether we get or stay together or not.

oh fuck I am now seeing a 31 yr old and a 27 yr old. and the 31 yr old thinks I shouldn’t be fucking anyone else. and he thinks I’m not. and he’s jealous.

I don’t want to be a bad person but there’s a part of me that truly loves them both. I told the beautiful boy last night that if only he was 20 yrs older I’d be in love with him. He stopped me and said 10. If we could cut it to 10…. sigh. But it’s 20 and that means there really is no future here. Frankly, ditto with Kyle. He’s not really going to want to be with me at 44 and 60, and so on.

oh dear what am I doing?

I hadn’t heard from the beautiful boy about confirming dinner. I finally emailed asking if he wanted to ink or erase our penciled-in date… and he said yes. We had a lovely sushi dinner (well, he did — not sure if he noticed I don’t really eat raw fish, but that’s another story).

We came back to my place, opened a bottle of bubbly and chatted. And he admitted he’d seen my profile and done the math, and he actually asked for the real number, which I gave. And he kissed me, and we talked some more, and it was great to be open about it, and we had beautiful sex.

I am in such big trouble.

Tuesday he texts and calls me all day at work. We talk about how hard it is to communicate when we don’t know each other very well, he reiterates how much he wants to be with me — but he again won’t make plans to see me, puts me off again, promises he’ll come by between his shifts Weds (he’s working a double on his first day back, which sounds like a really bad idea). He sends me pics of the blood in the hallway; there is rather a lot of it. I make plans to see a friend so I don’t sit around and wallow in this, and he gets jealous, wants to know if it’s a guy and someone I’ve been seeing. I tell him the truth, which is no, but really, if he won’t see me, how long am I supposed to pretend to be committed to this thing?

I texted him late evening, no answer. I texted him this morning, no answer until almost 11. He can’t come see me today. Too bad I took the fucking day off so I could be here. I don’t tell him I did it for him but I do tell him I’m working from home. Maybe he’ll change his mind later and work something out. Maybe he won’t and I’ll keep my date with the beautiful boy tomorrow. Actually, at this point, I think I’m keeping my date either way. It’s just a matter of whether I’m admitting it to him or not.

I texted midday to see how he was — he said he was pretty fucked up and was going back to the hospital again to check in. Apparently he has a 3-inch gash in his head, lost a lot of blood, doesn’t remember much about what happened. Again, if true, horrible and I do wish he’d let me come check on him. But he refused again… called me when he left the hospital and we chatted for a minute, he did sound really out of it.

Either way, though, it’s kind of fucked up. A) I don’t trust him enough to believe this, and that’s fucked up; or B) he doesn’t trust me enough to want me there to help and care.

This has a bad feeling, dear reader. I can’t put my finger on it, but there it is. In person he dispels it but I haven’t seen him since Friday afternoon.

Oh, and the beautiful boy wrote today and asked to take me to dinner. I was there, not hearing back from Kyle, getting pissed I couldn’t make other plans and feeling a little guilty about wanting to. I put him off until later in the week — one way or another, this thing is getting settled tomorrow. If Kyle and I agree to try to sort this out, I’ll break the date. If not, I’ll have a date to console me.

Somewhere along the line I realized I couldn’t have gone out with him tonight or tomorrow anyway. I still have that fucking hickey.

I REALLY HAVE TO STOP DATING CHILDREN.

I broke down and texted him again. He wrote back right away this time, says he got a concussion falling on the stairs last night. If true, I feel bad for him– I do. Why do I still feel like something is off? I really don’t trust him yet; I don’t know why.

He says he thought we were together, really wants this to work, wants to see me tomorrow.

I will try.

I met a boy online. I had a lot of reservations about him, but I went on a date anyway. In person he was much greater than his online persona — none of the ‘can I hook up first’ bullshit. On our first date (around the corner from where he works, I paid for everything) he put me in a cab and sent me home. Then regretted it and texted several times trying to hook up. Next day, he came over and we fucked before going out — and it was great. Really great. I came, he came, his very large cock was very happy. We went out to a bar to watch football (yes, I paid again, not a thing for me but apparently it is for some), came back to fuck again. Decided he didn’t want me fucking anyone else and in the middle of fucking me made me promise to be his girlfriend and not fuck anyone else. I said yes but I didn’t really mean it. He doesn’t sleep over — claims it’s a thing. Next day came over before work so we could fuck. And it was awesome. Again. I had a party that night and he came over after work, met a bunch of my friends, was completely charming, but didn’t stay over because he had to work the next day. The following day he texts me a hundred times, so happy to have met me etc. I come back to the city late so we can meet up after his work– but when I text he says it’ll be too late. “Sorry babe.” and that’s the last I hear from him. I text him in the early morning wishing he was here. I text him later in the day asking if he’s still sleeping. It’s New Year’s Day and I haven’t heard from him all day.

Fuck you, Kyle. If you didn’t care, why did you pretend? If you did, why won’t you return my texts? I’d be okay with this being yet another fuck-buddy relationship, but you were the one who upped the emotional game. Was that just so you could fuck with me?

Fuck you.

He semlls lke testosterone and beer. His arm is thrown across me, some of his body weight holding me down. It’ very early and I’m not at all sleepy, but I wouldn’t move for the world. I lay there, breathing him in, quietly. Hours pass before he wakes and fucks me again. This time is even rougher, he’s still drunk and all power, force, release. I get up afterwards to clean up, and I”m bleeding from my anus. Not enough lubrication (he’d tried, a little, using my own wetness, but it didn’t help much).

When he’d arrived, he walked in, stripped me, bent me over and fucked me there in the hall. I’d never fucked in that position before; it’s a little awkward and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to stay bent. Turns out yes, that’s what he wanted, and it was just fine. This is why I work out, right? to stay strong and flexible so I can fuck firemen?

I’m in his arms again after the second go-round and I eventually drift off to sleep, still breathing him in, all quiet in the world.

When we wake in the early morning, he fucks me again, this time pulling out just in time. I wonder if he remembers that he came inside me, twice, last night. My ass sure does.

I take a quick shower even though I’m going to the gym. As much as I’d like to revel in his scent, I doubt my trainer does.

And for the record, again: I really like this man.