All I Have To Do Is Dream

I had the weirdest dream last night. It was something about riding on a train and traveling through Europe or whatever, but even weirder was sitting at a round table talking to someone while my mom dissected her father's torso like some bizarro scientific lab experiment. And even weirder than THAT? It didn't seem weird to me that she would be doing that. I would love to know what all that means. Ha!

I've been back to the gym now a couple times this week and so far so good. I hope I lose some of the visceral fat I've stored but I won't be holding my breath. Speaking of holding my breath, the past couple days I have noticed pain on the right side of my chest at the end of the inhalation when I breathe in very deeply. Eh. Hopefully it goes away. Anyway, I've got to keep exercising and get my circulation going. I'll do this for a few more weeks before I gauge how it might be helping the edema in my legs.

Christ, I sound 80.

I'm looking forward to the weekend. Hopefully kiddo can come by and we can head over to BFF's house to watch "True Blood" together but I kinda doubt it since she's watching my exSIL's disabled dachshund. Maybe next week! speaking of, I really need to get together with exSIL over the summer. Not only am I her exSIL because I divorced her husband's brother, but she's soon to be divorced from her hub as well. What does that make us? Still exSILs? Hm. Yeah, I think that still works. She's a great lady and a lot of fun. She reminds me of Carrie on SATC so that's gonna be her nickname here. Carrie!

Still having loads of fun with 30b. He's my virtual boyfriend -- at least he's my char's BF and my FWB -- and I get all the great parts and none of the crap. Wow. Seriously, who needs to go get a real one?

((Song: "All I Have To Do Is Dream" by the Everly Brothers. Lyrics here:
http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/the_everly_brothers/all_i_have_to_do_is_dream.html ))

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

Earlier this week the ex texted me and wanted me to meet with him and Yo at a local restaurant to talk over some things about the kiddo. It was in regards to an interesting dilemma that I'm sure many parents of gay and lesbian teens face -- "should she have sleepovers with friends that are girls?" We had a long talk about it. Some things were said that I took exception to (mostly about the general concept as opposed to the kiddo herself) and by evening's end things were worked out to a conclusion that was acceptable to all parties, including the kiddo.

The things I took exception to were about sex in general. I was surprised that I took exception to them, actually, and while listening to the ex and Yo talk I was quietly amused at myself at how far I've come in the last three years since my divorce.

The ex and Yo upheld that double standard -- the thing that chafed at me as a young woman and chafes at me doubly so now. A son? Well, he's supposed to have sex or at least isn't crucified if he does. A daughter? We taught her better than that, and oh no, he's a whore! Grrr. Something else said made me wonder how getting someone pregnant was less tragic than getting pregnant. Even when reminded that our kiddo wouldn't get pregnant I could see that the issue of his daughter's sexuality (not being lesbian, just being a female!) was an uncomfortable one for him.

Female sexuality. Ah yes. We're supposed to be the picky choosy ones. Held to a better standard of behavior and dismissed or denigrated if we don't uphold it. It reminded me of when the ex and I were dating and I slept with him on the first night, but rebuffed him for a few weeks after that. Some months later he remarked that he had at first held no respect for me until I began to rebuff him. I remembered how livid I was that he felt he could sit in judgement of me while reserving no equal judgment concerning his own behavior. Objectively I understand the underlying concern -- "if she'll give it away to me so easily, than how can I be certain she won't give it to someone else or that I'm special?" but sujectively, it is nothing but hypocrisy to me. I guess since I have changed my attitude about sex from 'only done when in love with grave seriousness" to "enjoy it as the pleasure that it is as such things may be fleeting," this sort of insecurity is something I have little patience with.

Hand me the bad parent of the year award right now if you wish but I wasn't overly concerned about the idea of my daughter having sex with a girlfriend. She's 17, she knows about STDs, her risk of pregnancy is nil, and realistically I know that a few hours grabbed at someone's house hanging out of an evening is just as easy for a rendezvous as anything else. She's lesbian but she's also a girl, and females (broadly speaking) are not as indiscriminately sex-focused as males. Whereas men think sexual thoughts dozens of times a day, women can and do go days without having a sexual thought. I am simply not as concerned about my almost-adult daughter's choices.

That said, I know she's in a vastly different place than I am. I'm careful not to share the breadth of my sexual life with my daughter just yet. She needs to learn about her own reactions to situations and how she feels before she tries to emulate the more world-weary attitudes that I have as a 40+ woman. She's not there yet. She doesn't need me to confuse the issue. I give her age-appropriate answers when she asks and share my thoughts that sex should be and is a very important and intimate facet of a relationship. I let her know that compatibility is vitally important.

In other somewhat related news, the ex and Yo have been trying to get pregnant, something I've known about for the last couple months. She's been taking prenatal vitamins and all. Well, it appears that they've been having difficulties and she's saying it can't be her because she had a baby just five years ago while it's been 17 for him so she's wanting to get him tested. He'll have to go do a happy in a cup, I suppose. Ha! He asked me if I thought they might've clipped something during his testicular tortion surgery about 15 yrs back. Maybe, but in doing a bit of research it's more likely his body produced anti-sperm antibodies, something that is apparently a side-effect of the tortion and surgery. Who knows? That's for them to worry about....

I've been playing about with the new templates and will for a while. Bear with me!

((Song: "Let's Talk About Sex" by Salt-n-Pepa. Lyrics here:
http://www.popculturemadness.com/Music/Lyrics/Lets-Talk-About-Sex-Salt-n-Pepa.html))

I'm Living Every Minute...

Let's see......

1) It's All For The Best moment -- Mr. Epic Fail of the previous post has bowed out of the ring. That's quite all right by me. I haven't missed him a bit.

2) Great news of the week -- HD told me last night he just might be able to get to the States! I'm thrilled about that and will make a herculean effort to meet him wherever he may be. It might be (probably will be) my only chance so I am there.

3) Relating to #2 -- Now to get the body I had a year or so back. Man, have I let myself go. I think I'm only a couple pounds from my cutoff weight of 140 and for a 5'0" woman, 140 is getting a bit on the iffy side of chunky. So hi ho, hi ho, it's to the gym I go! Next week! I just got a good rejoin deal from my old gym sent to me so I'll take advantage of it this week and sign back up. I'll start off doing spin 3 days a week until I make sure it doesn't kill me and then add strength training.

4) Berate self pause -- TOO MANY CARBS! Bad girl! Bad!

5) "Drop Dead Diva" is a damn funny show. It's borderline goofball and trite at times but there are very few shows that aren't at one time or another. The lead character is great and it's one of those things you can sit back and watch. Other shows (from both this side of the pond and overseas) that are great: "Dead Like Me," "The Vampire Diaries," "Being Human," "Dexter," "True Blood," and "Being Erica."

6) Argh, I have floaties in my eyes that are bugging me. That and I've noticed my vision is a little cloudier and I have to hold things farther away. Age is grand. Not.

7) Haven't thought of an appropriate nickname for my sweet 30-boy from last month but he is a true and total dear. FWB? Yeah, that might have to do though I'd rather have something a bit more unique than that. (Hell, maybe just 30b?) He mentioned the phrase himself last night and then admitted he was a bit awkward about that designation as it wasn't something he'd ever indulged in before. But we're still having a good time and he's a hell of a lot of fun. No gift horse looking here!

Okay, I'm done. Peace out!

((Song: "S.E.X" by Adam and the Ants. Lyrics here:
http://www.project80s.com/lyrics/song-lyrics.php?song=sex-adam-ant ))

Put Me In, Coach, I'm Ready to Play

What a difference a week makes. The ball has definitely been in my court and I've made some choice plays. The one I made the night before last was the most telling.

For background, he and I chatted on Skype a bit last weekend and as a result he's apparently assumed he's got some leeway with me permanently because I decided to allow a bit of it temporarily. Initially I thought that might've been a mistake but you know, the more I think about it, the more I think it was a smart move. It's brought out some behaviors that have been deducting points from his initial score.

So he's popped in game a couple of times over the last week while I've been busy interacting with another player. The first time he did he was chatty for a bit before becoming a little frisky. Okay, so though I took note of it and my reaction to it, I let that one slide. The second time he popped in he said hello, so did I, and then we began to interact in-game. Things were fine at the outset but by the end of the evening things got a little more intense but not beyond reason. Before he logged out he made an out of character comment about being slightly drunk. Ah well. He logged and that was that.

But this third time, night before last? He definitely overplayed his hand. He popped in and didn't say anything but hello before segueing into how I could help him out of what he called his unstimulated state. Wow, I thought, what the fuck, dude? Really? I moved to stage one of my kiss-off maneuvers and told him I was busy and that he'd have to find another avenue to pursue. Think he got the hint with that? Nope. Okaaaay. On to stage two, the 'let's see if there's a reasonable excuse for his poor judgment' stage. I asked him if he'd been drinking. This should have not only clued him into the fact that I hadn't responded favorably but also that he was exhibiting behavior I thought bad enough to originate from alcoholic lack of inhibition. Nope, he didn't catch this hint either! He said he'd only had one. Okay, not enough for that excuse to fly.

Another comment and that was that. I'd had enough. I told him he might want to back off; objectifying me wasn't a turn on and if he wanted to continue to speak to me he'd speak to my brain and not my body parts.

He backpedaled fast. Apologized, three times, profusely, and then left. I haven't seen him since.

A side comment: his disappearing act is fascinating. It means he knows he overplayed his hand. One strong word from a woman and all his macho bravado aside, he scurries off to hide when confronted. He's way softer and more dependent on women than he lets on. Some of his background story makes more sense in light of his actions here. Hmm....

Anyway, the moral to this story is an interesting one. There are times and places for this kind of stuff. It's not that I'm a prude, far from it, especially in this aspect of the seduction game! The mental backing and forthing is fantastic for me. I thoroughly enjoy bantering in this manner and I generally take it as the compliment it is when it's the right time and place. What I mean by that is, generally there's this wavelength you're looking for and you need to be able to read the receptiveness of your partner before you forge ahead. If you don't, you just end up crossing the border between sexy and crude. Major fail.

I'm sure he's licking his wounds and figuring out how to fix it. It'll be interesting to see his approach. Contrite, is my guess. We'll wait for him to take his turn.

((Song: "Centerfield" by John Fogerty. Lyrics here:
http://www.baseball-almanac.com/poetry/po_scf.shtml ))

Would You Run Away? Would You Stay?

So when it rains, it pours.

About three weeks ago an online chat turned into what I'd call the chat version of drunk dialing. I saw him in IRC and messaged him to exchange a hello how you doing and before I knew it he was flirting, teasing and suggesting, his tone definitely different than his normal reserved attitude. Confused at first by this change (he'd been keeping me at a careful distance, only once or twice hinting of the reason behind the distance he studiously maintained) it became clearer when he told me he was drunk. Inebriation opened up the floodgates and he told me more about his life and his relationships with the people in it than I ever assumed he would. He also didn't hint any longer at the reason behind his reserve, telling me he'd kept his distance precisely because from the moment we'd met he'd been interested and he didn't want to be 'that guy.'

The chat as a whole was interesting, to be sure, laced with revelation at first that soon spiraled into innuendo spiced with the witty repartee of two people intent on seeing who could best manipulate the other's reaction. We both wondered who would take the crown from the other, intellectual equals performing an intricate dance. It felt very much like a scene from my favorite movie, Dangerous Liaisons. Even drunk he was very good at it. I enjoyed myself immensely.

We agreed to meet the next day on IRC. He never showed and frankly, I attributed it to a sober day-after kneejerk freakout and let it go at that. He disappeared for weeks, only surfacing last evening. He explained his absence as a need to stop the drinking he was doing and to get a handle on some things in his life. Now that's fine and dandy. He's a big boy with his own life and his own issues and none of those things involve me or will involve me.

I asked him if he remembered that he had invited me to come out and visit him over a weekend this fall. He said he had. He wondered if -- given his disappearing act -- the interest was even still there.

Hm. Food for thought. I admit I am intrigued. I am also hesitant. Boy's got issues. On the one hand, they're not mine and a day or two won't make them so. I can go home and leave them at his feet and say au revoir. On the other, he was a little more pushy sober than I might've liked and how he responds to my dial down request about that will definitely factor into it all.

As it is, I played extremely hard to get, dangling just enough carrot out there to keep him wondering if he'd make some tactical errors with me. He had. He'd conceded the court to me and I felt no guilt in taking the field. The next play is up to me.

I think the crown is mine.

((Song: "What Would Happen" by Meredith Brooks. Lyrics here:
https://www.msu.edu/~ovittles/lyrics/whatwouldhappen.htm ))