I had to go to a wedding over the weekend. I’m divorced and in my forties. Most of my friends are either divorced and in their 40’s, or unhappily fat and married in their 40’s. Weddings are like a fatal explosion of cynicism and fantasy at which we all drink too much and pretend it’s not us – neither the cynicism or the fantasies. The only thing I like about them is that it is a good chance for to realize how hot I am, and feel a little sanctimonious about it. Sanctimony is a great defense against cynical depression.
I thought about which guy to bring, as there are a small handful that are good candidates. Then I thought about all my friends comparing him to the ex, (I can’t stand people putting him down OR building him up.) Or asking about the ex, (I can’t stand talking about him, because I love doing stuff with him.) Or telling the ex (I don’t want him to feel bad, or worse, for him not to care that I’m with other guys.) So I decided I’d rather not bring anyone than deal with the ex drama. The one thing I didn’t think about was the possibility of the ex being there, much less him winding up ball-deep in my ass at the crack of dawn.
Sometimes we relapse. What can you do?
This is an ex that everyone, including me, loves. Everyone, including us, loved us together. Not my wasband, but my ex boyfriend, post wasband. We are catastrophically incompatible. No anger or hatred, just no way to make it work. He is why I’ve been dating so much, to try and get the taste of him out of my mouth.
Maybe to make him watch and see if he realizes what he lost… But how is that going to happen if we keep seeing each other and he is literally in my mouth? For goddsake, I managed not to fuck him when he was in my bed the other day, why now?
Fucking champagne and cake.
We hadn’t had sex in a couple months. The last time we had sex it was the best time yet, in really hysterical circumstances – again trying not to get caught relapsing. In the high of that great fuck, we agreed on a quick laundry list of things we had to do next time. But I caught myself when I came down from the hormonal rush and said, NO MORE, before we had the chance to do any of it.
I haven’t fucked anyone I’ve been seeing, because I haven’t wanted to. (There was one great blow-job, but that doesn’t count as sexual relations with that man, right?) I’ve thrown some soft ball questions, and am not getting the right sparks in return. Because here’s the thing, I like sex, a lot, and I like to know that I will be totally man-handled in a way that makes a lot of women – and a surprising number of men – a little nervous. I don’t need it that way all the time, but I have to know it’s coming….
And he….. wow.
It’s not like we meant it. I didn’t know he’d be there. I had a ride with a girlfriend, but she hooked up with a guy and ditched me, after telling me that the ex had agreed to drive me home. (Wow, talk about set up! What kind of friend does THAT to you? Oh, a very good one!)
Next thing I knew, we were half way through the list, and eventually fell asleep with his cock in my ass, spooning like kittens. Bliss. Just what I needed. The morning was sweet, as it always was. The good-bye was sweet, as it always is.
And I’m feeling the pull to forget that we are not compatible. We are not compatible. WE ARE NOT COMPATIBLE. We’ve both said a few times how nice it is to enjoy each other so much again. But the voice in my head immediately chimes in and says, “It was just the once, we had a list, we were simply getting things done….”
Run Eva, run. Think of him as a pitstop for a quick tune up on the road to what you really want. It’s okay……. Here, let’s just lube up that screw so you’ll run smoothly…..