Archive | June, 2011

Fellow Lady Bloggers…

29 Jun

I’ve decided what I need. I need something to look forward to. Someplace to go to in the middle of winter in February when temps are thirty below.

I propose a trip for us.

Let’s go somewhere fun for a few days. Let’s meet, exchange horror stories, and laugh away the shitty men.

Anyone else in?


So Much To Tell…

27 Jun

Oh my god it has been one hell of a roller coaster ride the last week or so.  Let’s deal with the What The Fuck moment of the week.

I have been so busy, that I have been neglecting friends, family, and everyone in between.  Especially you guys…and I tell you  everything.  So needless to say, I have also been neglecting Nice Guy.  As in I haven’t talked to him for a week.  Just ONE WEEK.  Not a month, not a year, but a week.  And here is the email I received from him the other day:

I appreciate and understand that you have not had it easy the past year and are still working your way though things.  However, a friendship takes two and I have felt that you have been scarce to non-existent for some time.  I understand that you live in a different time zone, work two jobs, are taking care of your kids, and are fighting your ex and his girlfriend. In a friendship I would hope that my wants get met, but at the very least my needs get met.  Maybe after you have had the time to get settled you will be able to resume a friendship with me.  Only time will tell.  In the meantime, I cannot continue with our friendship in this way.  Good luck in your endeavors and I hope you find happiness and it is your own…Nice Guy.

And yes, this is copied and pasted, only thing changed is the name at the end.

I have an inbox FULL of emails from friends, and every other one says ‘Just please let us know your alive’, ‘You didn’t to anything stupid enough to go to jail, did you?’, ‘Hang in there baby, things get better’.  And then I get the one above.

If you KNOW that I am going through all of that drama, and you KNOW I have all of this shit going on, don’t you think I may appreciate an email that is a little more positive?  Or how about ‘I’m always here for you, I know you are going through a lot, just call me when you have time’?  FUCK OFF DOUCHEBAG.  Last thing I need is your girlie-ass complaining about your ex-girlfriend from two years ago that you are still pining over because she is sooooo beautiful.  She left you, man the fuck up, and get on with your life.

In other news, Medic cancelled another lunch.  What the fuck ever.  We were drunk, you kissed me, big fucking deal.  Why is it that dudes have to make a federal case about everything?  He acts like it was the world’s biggest no-no.  I just don’t have the energy for it.

In better news…I went out with Fighter again.  And we had a really nice time.  It turned into a three and a half hour lunch, where we just learned a little more about each other.  And he asked me to go have a day with him this Thursday.  He wants to go do something ‘fun’, like bowling or miniature golfing.  I suggested laser tag, because nothing says ‘date’ like shooting someone in the ass.  We will see what he decides 🙂

On this better news note, I am having a bit of a panic attack.  I feel like date three is a committment.  As a committment-phobe, I am having issues with this.  Fighter has yet to ask why I got divorced.  I have yet to tell him about my marriage.  I have always said it isn’t anyone’s business, but I am now second guessing that opinion.  I’m thinking he needs to know.  I have yet to kiss him because I am interested in him.  He hugs me and I am the one who breaks away.  This is all quite the conundrum for me.  I can go to Mr. Hottie or AG, and have awesome sweaty sex.  I can go see Medic and drape myself all over him.  But give me someone I have an interest in dating and getting to know, and I am like a deer in headlights.  I think I am afraid of being back in a dark place, one I never want to go to again.  I’m afraid of being hurt, emotionally and physically.

I am aware I have hang-ups.  And the last thing I want to happen is me sabotaging something that could be GREAT.  That is why I am womaning up.  I am going on this date, and I am going to take it one day at a time.  And I think very soon I may have to have a talk with him.  I don’t want him thinking that he is the problem, when in fact it is me and my past.  Sigh.

Much love, Esme

What The Hell Just Happened?

17 Jun

Let me try to explain this as I see it, as my truth.  That’s all you can do anyways, right?

Medic texted me last night while I was at work, asked me if I wanted to come over.  I hemmed and hawed for about 1.7 seconds.  Yep, I wanted to go.  I just really like hanging out with him!

I picked up some beer before I went over (I’m the most awesome female friend EVER).  I had two, he had three.  We played video games (which I haven’t done in a long time!) and watched a cheesy movie.  We both had to work in the morning, so we went to bed pretty early.  Do you see a pattern, just a little?  I stay even though I don’t need to, and of course he snuggles with me.  I laid on my side, and he plastered himself to me and held on tight.  I miss that so much!!

A while later, he was snoring and I rolled over.  I rested my head near his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me.  I immediately fell asleep.  I love hearing a heartbeat, and feeling someone breathe.  I find it comforting.

I’m not sure what really happened next.  Did I snuggle in more?  Nuzzle his neck trying to get comfortable?  Moan in my sleep?  Not sure I will ever know.  But I do know this…Medic kissed me.  I woke up to his lips on mine.  Gentle, tasting, teasing, tempting.  When I responded he rolled me over onto my back and continued.  He put his hand on my cheek (which holy shit is such a turn on for me) and kept up the gentleness.  When he stopped and gathered me back up in his arms, I was in shock.  Did that just happen?  Did I want it to happen?  Holy shit he is a great kisser.  Why did he do that?  Will he do it again?

We kissed a few times throughout the night, when either of us felt like it I suppose.  It never went any farther, and there was-amazingly-no wandering of the hands.  He didn’t try to cop a feel, and neither did I.  Maybe it was just for the enjoyment of kissing?  I don’t know.

Here is what made me feel like shit.  After I left this morning, he sent me a text that said:

Medic: I am really sorry if I did anything inappropriate last night.  I took a muscle relaxer before you came over, so I was really fucked up.
E: Nothing inappropriate.  No worries.
M: Did we kiss a little?
E: Yes
M: Aaahhhh!  I thought that was a dream.  Sorry.

This comment was the one that made me feel low.  He’s sorry?  For the kiss or for being drunk?  I didn’t ask, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.  And what is with the Aaahhh??  Instead I responded with:

E: If I didn’t want it, I would have made you stop.  It’s all good.
M: OK.

I have no idea what to think about that exchange.  I just don’t.

Love, Esme

The Benefit Of Younger Men

15 Jun

I have spent a lot of my brain power thinking about this.  Why?  I have no fucking clue.  I truly don’t.  And it all started pretty innocently.

My gal Sunday pointed out to me a recently that I really seem to be attracted to younger men.  I told her that was erroneous (great movie) and asked her to point out the proof.

Sunday:  Really?  I really have to freaking do this?  Oh-kay…AG, 24-year old Firefighter, EX-BF, 29 year-old Firefighter, Mr. Hottie, Fighter, Jake, New Guy, Perfect, the last one-night stand you had.  Almost every guy you flirt with.  Need I say more?  Heeeeellllllllloooooooo…Medic??

Shit.  She was right.  I do have a thing for younger guys.  The few I dated that were older, didn’t look as old as they were.  Why, OH WHY, do I tend to go after the younger men?

Theory on this one, bear with me.

Guys in their mid-thirties (eek…am I almost that old?) are just so…drama filled.  They have been married.  They have been divorced.  They have kids.  They have baby-mama drama.  They probably did something wrong so their wives had to leave them.  They don’t take care of themselves very well.  They usually don’t exercise.  They don’t dress as nice.  They don’t care much about their looks.  They seem to have forgotten how to treat a lady.  Do I need to go on?  And before some guys e-mail or comment, this has just been my experience.  And it’s my blog.  Don’t like it??  Start your own.

I take care of myself.  I exercise (mostly).  I look in the mirror before I leave the house.  I take a care when I pick out my clothes (unless it’s Girls Night).  I work very hard to keep drama out of my life, or at least away from my dates.  I don’t bring my kids into relationships.  I don’t tell stories of my divorce, or sing about the heartache of what I have been through.  That takes too much damn ENERGY.

Younger men are the opposite of men my age.  Almost exactly.  They also realize how lucky they are to date someone like me, and go out of their way to prove it.  Over and over again.  (And let’s not forget the added benefit of stamina, and they fact they are more willing to take the time in bed.  Oooh yes.)  I also find that these guys are more willing to go out and do things, not just sit at home and watch TV.

In short, they act more like me.  More of what I am looking for.  Active.  Fun-loving.  Go with the flow.

I think like-minded individuals are drawn to each other.  Should age really be an issue?

Love, Esme

A Much Needed Night

14 Jun

I had a horrible day yesterday.  The day was sucky.  The work night was sucky, and going home alone was the last thing I wanted to do.  Soooooo…I went and saw Medic.

We had a couple of drinks, but we were both incredibly with it.  He let me snuggle up to him, and he held me close.  We did not do anything else, and that was quite alright.  I just needed what he gave.  No more, no less.

Why can’t I find one like him my age??

Love, Esme

Asking For Trouble

12 Jun

So I spent last night with Medic.  And no…we didn’t do anything.  I think…

I got off work last night super late.  As I was cleaning up my bar, Medic texted and asked if I wanted to come have loaded Coronas.  What is a loaded Corona, you ask?

THAT is a loaded Corona.  You drink the neck of the Corona, then you fill it with Bacardi Limon.  It’s delicious, and it’s deadly.  It fucks your world up.

So I went to his place.  I had a rough day at work, and I needed a drink.

I had four of these guys, and the world was spinning.  (Again, I think the world conspires against me when I drink.  Why does it have to do that???)  Because the world had conspired against me, I had to stay over.  The details of the night are fuzzy.  I do know I didn’t have sex.  But I also know that I did not wake up with my jeans on.  I was wearing a pair of his sweats.  I remember we were reading a Maxim magazine.  I remember laying down in his bed, and I remember making him snuggle with me.  (The one thing I truly miss about being in a relationship).  I DON’T remember changing my pants in front of him.  I DON’T remember if I tried to jump him, as I can be kind of predatory when I have been drinking.  I did ask him this morning if I did anything I need to be embarrassed about, and he said no.  So I am going to believe him, because I don’t want to think of the alternative.  Sigh.

Thank God my one super power is no hangovers, because I have shit to do.

Much love, Esme

Date. And An ‘I’m Not Sure I Should Have Done That’ Story…

11 Jun

So I stood outside, waiting for this guy to show up.  At noon he did text me and tell me he was going to be a little bit late.  OK, at least I got a text, but I was still not happy.  At ten after, I texted him and told him I was going in to have a beer.  Fuck this.  If he didn’t show, I was still going to drink.  And by now, I was just angry.

A few minutes later in breezed a very tall, very muscular blond-haired blue-eyed man.  He came to rest at my table, and he looked very apologetic.  I’m so sorry, he said.  I didn’t know the highway (that runs by the restaurant) was under construction!  I feel like such a shit!

Well…that was a good start.  He sat down, and I studied him while he talked to the waiter.  He was thin.  But not anorexic thin.  A work-out fiend thin.  Strong.  Angular.  He later told me he used to be a martial arts fighter.  Well, there you go!  That’s how he got that body.

We talked for three hours, and it only felt like one.  We talked about work, hobbies, favorite trips, etc.  He asked very little about my marriage and divorce, and I was actually OK with that.  He was interested in me as a person.

As we talked I noticed he had a small facial tick that would normally not get noticed.  Fighting injury, was the reply.  Surprisingly, this didn’t bother me (as weird things usually do).  It made him more…endearing.  New name: Fighter.

I called an end to the date when I realized how long we ha actually been there.  Damn…broke a rule.  He paid for the meal (and my two drinks I consumed in my anger earlier) and walked me outside to my car.  Then he gave me a hug.  Not just any hug…one of those full body hugs.  Strong full body hugs.  God DAMN this guy was strong.  And my mind was fantasizing.  I told him I had a great time.  He said he did as well.  Later that day I got a couple of texts from him, but no offer of a second date.  We will see.

Here is the second part to the title of this story…fuck fuckitty fuck…

On the drive back my truck started making some crazy noise.  I know this noise to be a loose belt.  SHIT.  I called the first person to come to mind.  My favorite-and only mechanic.  Mr. Hottie.

E: Dude, my car is making a loose belt noise, can you please look at it so I don’t die in a fiery crash later today?
M: I’m at my place.  Swing by and I will take a look.
E: I am coming just for the truck.  Understood?
M: Babe, I have shit to do, either come by or not.

So I headed that direction.  I pulled into his driveway, and he sauntered on over to me.  All business, after a sexy little smile.  He spent a good 20 minutes looking in the engine, told me what needs to be replaced, and gave me a list of things to buy.

E: How much is all of this going to cost me?
M: Just parts.
E: Really?  That’s it?  I don’t know what to say.
M: Why don’t you come in for a drink.
E: I thought you have shit to do.
M: *sexy smile* Oh Babe, I do.

Damn.  I followed him inside, all the while giving myself a mental pep talk.  Just a drink.  One drink.  I haven’t seen him in over a year, and we are just going to catch up.  THAT’S IT.

He handed me a water.  I looked at it stupidly.  I didn’t even realize he went to the kitchen and back.  I looked up at him when he grabbed my wrist and flipped it over.

M: What’s this?   A fucking tattoo?  You marred your body?  Only french whores get tattoos.  (He does NOT like tattoos on women, and I snapped out of my stupor)
E: You aren’t my fucking boyfriend.  And it’s my body.  I can get a tattoo if I damn well please.  And who the fuck are you to tell me I can’t?  Go fuck yourself!  (I’m so eloquent.  I pushed him away from me with a good amount of force)
M: Now that’s the Esme I’ve been wanting.  Not the meek chick that walked in here.

Before I could register what he just said, I found myself flat on my back on his couch.  His lips kissing, his hands roaming.  Clothes discarded throughout the room.  I couldn’t get him close enough to me.  God, how I wanted this guy.  I was scratching and pulling hair, he was manhandling me in such a way that I am blushing as I write this.  It was animalistic, urgent, and just fucking hot.  Damn I have missed sex with this guy.

M: Next time, I will make sure you have a bed, and a hell of a lot more of my time.


Much love, Esme