Let’s Be Friends

Hot mostly naked softballer

No Actual Nudity Was Involved in the Making of This Post

I had the brilliant idea that now that Noma and I were no longer “going out,” it would be a good idea to introduce her to my kids. Actually, it was a pretty fucking brilliant idea. You see, my daughter’s softball season was ending, and she seemed to back-and-forth on whether she liked it or not. I thought that introducing her to a grown-up woman who plays softball would be a good idea, and Noma agreed to come and practice with the kids.

I had been reluctant to introduce her previously, because I am very hesitant to introduce anyone who I am dating to my kids unless things are starting to get serious. After putting my son through hell after I left his father for my daughter’s father, I was determined not to do that again. Also, I figure my kids don’t need to see me with an endless parade of women. When I find someone who I really think I can settle down with–then I’ll introduce her to my kids. But friends? Really, my kids don’t see enough of my friends!

So, anyways, it went great! Noma was fantastic pitching to, and coaching my kids, I had fun fielding the ball–a good time was had by all! By the end of two hours, my son–more of a computer nerd than a sports geek–was so enthused that he declared a desire to join little leaugue.

Well, so far so good! Operation prove-to-Noma-that-ex’s-can-actually-be-friends-while-giving-my-kids-sports-inspiration off to a brilliant start!

“Thanks again!” I said, giving Noma a goodbye hug. “I’ll see you on Wednesday!”

“Wednesday?” She looked taken aback.

“Yeah, at that event..?”

“Oh yeah, Wednesday!

The End of Trevor

I promised to tell y’all all about my adventures with speed dating–and I will–but first I need to talk about the end of Trevor.

I went over to Trevor’s Tuesday night knowing I had to tell him that I was done. I’ve known in my mind that I needed to stop messing with him for a while…but I guess having someone who wanted me seemed better than no one, even if I didn’t really want him.

For once he was there on time, which has been a really big issue…that and his habit of taking a week to return a text message.

He could tell I was upset about something, and I told him I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Because of your ‘Lesbian thing?'” He asked scornfully. “You realize you’ve given me this line three times now.” (I think it was twice, but who’s counting?)

“I know. But I mean it this time.” I told him about my hot date, and how I barely thought about him after, but couldn’t get a brief kiss with a woman out of my head.

“We’re just playing around, you can keep being with me until you find that one you want.”

“I can’t. I need to be one way or the other. I need to be open to finding that woman, and I don’t want to be hiding that I’m seeing a man. Besides, I am never going lick you or let you stick it to me.”

“I know you have that barrier. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t think about putting it inside you–I’m thinking about it right now. But that’s okay.” His tone changed. “I don’t think you’re a Lesbian–I think you’re bisexual. I know you like what we do. I could have you right now if I wanted to”

“I know you think that, but I really don’t–I  don’t like jacking you off. I never did.”

“You didn’t? What about the things I did to you? I know you liked that.”

“I do like kissing you,” I conceded. “And I like the things you’ve done to me…but I don’t want to do anything back. If you were a woman I would.”

“So–you want me to do you and you not to do anything back? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“No! I don’t want that–especially after what my ex did to me.

“Well,” He took a deep breath. “I like doing things to you, I guess I can deal with that.”

“No–I just need to stop.”

“Okay.” He said. “I can respect that. You think too much, you need to relax. Look,” He took a deep breath, looking deep into my eyes. “I respect you. I know what you go through. I was also raised by a white, single mom. My mom was studying to be a doctor when she met my dad…and she had a hard time of it raising us kids by herself.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ve always felt like you respected me.”

He gave me a hug. It was a big soothing bear hug. I felt the tension run out of me. Then before I knew it we were kissing. I do love kissing him. With his big soft lips it doesn’t feel like kissing a man, or kissing a woman, it just feels good…kinda reminds me of eating pussy, actually.

After we kissed for a moment he lunged forward, pushing me onto the bed.

“Wait–stop.” I said unconvincingly as he pinned me to the bed. Not for the first time it crossed my mind that with his 6’6″ frame and 400 lbs he could have his way with me if I wanted it or not…but I never thought he would want to if I said stop. My mind went blank as he continued to press his mouth against mine, his body heavy on me, keeping me immobile as he felt on my titts. Finally I was able to pull away just enough to say–

“I mean it. Stop.” In a firm voice. And he did. Reluctantly he got off of me. (I don’t think he realized how overbearing he had just been. At least I hope he just got carried away.)

“So you Lesbians have your dildo’s–your straps, right?” He asked me, as I moved away from him, adjusting my bra.

“Well I’ve never tried one.” He looked perplexed at my answer.

“But…it’s the same thing, right? The same motions–with a woman.”

“I don’t know–I never tried one.”

“Oh right, you’re the foreplay queen.”

“I think Lesbians have a different view of sex.” I replied wearily and cryptically. I didn’t feel like explaining or justifying lesbian sex to him. If you’ve never been a woman with a woman, I guess you’ll never understand…how it’s so much more intense…how the slightest touch can turn one on ten times more…

All I know is giving up men is easy if it means a chance of being with one. Actually, it’s just plain easy.

He says he’s writing a song about me–me, and all the women who’ve done him wrong.

Lost in Space

I just spent the last couple hours driving aimlessly down the highway listening to jazz and nursing a broken heart. Well, kinda broken. Feelings of hurt and loss simmered in an uneven gumbo of respect and pride. Not pride in my actions, but pride in my ex girlfriend Jen’s. You see, in the time between when we broke up and when we fell back together, she had acquired a girlfriend, so making love to me was especially naughty..

I have this weird cognitive dissonance whereby as her friend, I think we should break it off, and am actually proud of her for cutting the cord that I was not able to break completely, but as her lover I just want to take her in my arms, kiss her sweet lips, caress every inch of her skin…

I thought to myself today that things would soon be “wrapped up” between us, but that did not make it easier when it came. I had been looking forward to seeing her all week. I had even been calling her, texting her. She texted me to tell me she was thinking of me, looking forward to seeing me.

I got lost on the way to her house. I should have seen it as a sign. There’s me, going left, right..getting lost…

Tonight an Ice princess opened the door to her apartment. Gone was Jen the with the slightly butch cornrows, blue jewel-toned tank top (no bra) that made her  skin glow, the smoldering eyes… The Jen who lay next to me trading longing gazes and then tender kisses. Who I kissed from head to toe, lingering long on her lovely labia.Who I spent hours wrapped up in conversation with, sharing dreams and aspirations.

Clad in white from head to toe the warm tones of her skin were the only relief for my eyes against the stark white walls. White towel wrapped around her head. White laundry in a pile on the table.

A single tear ran down her cheek as she said goodbye. She felt so far away. Like she was farther away sitting across the room than she had been in the last few years.

I think she had to rekindle things with me so that she could break up with me instead of the other way around.

I feel so old and mature tonight. But mostly sad.

And Damn. Did she really need to make me drive 40 min each way after a long day of work to break up with me? She has a phone!

Death of a Relationship

She was so beautiful: honey-bee eyes, skin like grade A maple syrup, a smile to reel you in, breasts like pillows…

It’s the classic story of girl meets girl. Girls have long deep conversations. Girl drops hints about bisexuality. Girls wind up in bed…

And it’s all downhill from there–well, not the bed part, that was quite wonderful–but the rest of it. Our communication quickly slipped off of it’s axis as miss-communication built on miss-communication.   Expectations clashed on everything. She had never heard the joke but still wanted to UHaul it. I wanted to take it slow and get to know her. I liked her daughter’s spunk, but thought she was too wild and out of control. She thought I was too controlling with my “bed times.” She thought I was too emotionally distant and lashed out at me. That made me—well, you can figure it out.

Now we’re friends on Facebook and exchange the occasional text message.

I still fantasize about making love to her just about every night.

The Conversation

My ex-girlfriend: “It was good bumping into you at the mall today.”

Me: “It was good seeing you too.”

Ex:”So, I just gotta know, what do you want from me?”

Me:”Huh? what do you mean?”

Ex:”Well, do you want to be my friend? My lover?”

Me:”I’d like to be your friend.”

Ex:”What does that mean? All of my friends have a use to me. I’m not used to gray areas.”

Me: “I don’t know, I don’t do cost-benefit analysis with friendships.”

Ex:”You know what I think–I think I’m just more into you then you’re into me.”

Me:”I’m just really taking a break right now. I’ve been really sad over my friend & ex’s death. I’ve been crying everyday-”

Ex:”I don’t want to hear about right now. Do you want to be my friend?”

Me:” Well, yes…”

Ex: “Then if you want to be my friend, why didn’t you return all my phone calls when we were going out?”

(okay, to be fair, for various reasons, I didn’t answer the phone 3-4 times when she called, but I usually texted or called her back. This is one of the stupid recurring arguments that broke us up.)

Me:”This is exactly the conversation I don’t want to have. Can’t we just talk without recriminations?”

Ex:”I don’t know what that means.”

Me: “Can’t you just chill out, be cool, relax?”

Ex:”I’m not a child. If you want me to fuck off, tell me to fuck off.”

Me:”But–”

Ex: “I’m not used to gray areas in my friendships. Just tell me to fuck off.”

Me:”Well..”

Ex: “TELL ME TO FUCK OFF!”

Me:”Okay…Fuck off–if that’s what you want.”