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.

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 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?

I booty-called the beautiful boy the evening of the earthquake. He’s in the middle of a crazy-busy week but took time out to meet me for a drink and fuck.

When they announced the impending hurricane, I emailed him “who am I supposed to have hurricane sex with if you’re out of town?” (which he was scheduled to be). His reply: maybe JFK would be flooded.

I do really like this one (even if he did make it out of town, forcing me to spend the storm itself alone w/friends and contemplate picking up the bartender the day after).

We had a little hurricane here. All of my men except for new M. checked in on me. I have to say, that felt nice.

I did break things off with J2, who didn’t handle it well. So much for the ‘this isn’t a relationship’ pre-discussion. He wants to get together to talk about it. Like I want to talk. I said yes just to end the conversation but something tells me when Tuesday rolls around I’ll be busy.

I also broke things off with Tex. Chatted with C; turns out he’s still actively married. That, my friend, should have been my choice to enter into. Bullshit that he’d lie about it. He doesn’t even have the decency to ask to talk about it (and yes, in this case, I think he should). Funny, though, I’m not that resentful. Just kind of over it.

I did not confess anything to the beautiful boy. It’ll end soon enough; why hurry things along? In addition to the age difference, he comes from a very different world, and one in which I’ll never be comfortable, so I think I’ll just enjoy our little trysts and stop falling in love.

G. still texts often, sending pics of his son and places they’re traveling. I don’t imagine a future there, either, but as long as we’re both single, it’s a nice thing.

Newest boy, M., was supposed to be a one-time thing. A local from my local pub, he was leaving town to go to graduate school; we went out on his last night in town, ended up (big surprise) in my bed. Fucked most of the night but I have to say, not really my type in bed. A little too something, I’m not sure what. I kind of thought that was that, but he’s been back several weekends already and keeps wanting to get together. I wonder how many times I have to say no before he figures it out. I don’t like fucking men from my local — too close to home. I only did it because I thought he was leaving. Fuck.

So here I am, 47 years old, dropping lovers and still looking for love.

My own mother, who’s never said a word about me not ever being married, finally did. I got ordained so I can officiate at marriages legally – mostly on a lark, partly so I can marry friends who said they wanted me to. Mom comes out with ‘well I guess if you won’t get married on your own you can at least marry other people.’ Knocked the wind out of me. She’s the sweetest person on earth, though, so later when she came and apologized, I lied and told her it was okay. I mean, does she think I want to be alone? or that I’m incapable of finding love? I truly hope that’s not true.

Spent the night with G. I wasn’t sure he’d remember our date, but he did, texted me early in the day to say how much he was looking forward to it. We had a nice date — a drink at his place, dinner at an outdoor cafe down the block, beautiful night, took a stroll along the river, back to his place…. about a bottle apiece but perhaps too much, he had trouble staying hard. Woke up with a beautiful hard-on, though, nice sex though I’m not sure he came, seemed like a mini ejaculation at best. Anyway, very sweet to see him, and I do love the feel of that giant cock in my hand (and my yoni). But…. he’s older and privileged and walks through the world like a master of the universe. I find that a little attractive, but not as much as many do. Even here, alas, I feel we may be winding down. The beautiful boy may not have a future, but he’s ruining me for other men.