And no, this has nothing to do with the fact that the ex once again came over for a seemingly legitimate reason yesterday and we wound up fucking the afternoon away. It’s sweet that he knows when my kid gets back from soccer though, right, so he could keep an eye on the clock. I really do need to stop this.
But no, that’s not it. I went out on a second date with a really great guy the day before. REALLY great guy. Successful, father, sweet, super smart, polite, old-fashioned but WILD and with similar tastes in parties and adventures to me, smokin’ hot and an unmitigated manly man, which is what I like. Seriously, if I were to write a checklist defining my perfect man, this would be it. Eyes you can drown in, I can’t look in them.
He needs a name. How about Butch, we’ll call him Butch.
The problem with Butch is that he is probably the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Genuinely and truly kind. Gentle. Vulnerable. Expressive. And he really likes me. That fact alone makes me want to run screaming. What the hell is wrong with me?
It’s not that I don’t want a committed relationship – I DO! It’s not that I don’t want a nice guy – I DO. It’s not that I don’t want security and happiness – I DO! It’s not that I don’t think I’m worth it – I DO.
So why does his affection for me freak me out? And make me want to run into the arms of – the ex, the magician, the trust-fund hippie from 3 states away, the moderately misogynistic tech guy……. Anyone but him.
I’m hoping it’s as simple as that I just want to keep seeing what’s out there and not “pick” too soon. That I know that if I spend too much time with him, I’ll probably fall, and then cut out any other possibilities and, for the first time in my life, I want to explore all the possibilities. But I’m also afraid that I’m going to hurt him. That I’ll realize I need more excitement, danger, mystery….. (Because that’s always worked out so well for me!) That he’ll fall too far too fast, and I’ll decide, for whatever reason, that I want something else, and I’ll hurt him. And I don’t want to do that.
The guy is as manly as a man can be, every archetype in the Marlboro Man guide – he’s pretty much Superman. And I’m afraid of hurting him. What am I, a giant kryptonite pussy?
In stark contrast to the fact that I’m almost enjoying the idea of hurting the ex. That eventually – before Monday, when I go out with Butch again – he’s going to realize that he lost me, and be sad. And I hate to admit that I want that. I can pretend that I want it so that he learns to appreciate what he has before he loses it, and doesn’t lose it next time, all kind and altruistic of me. But the truth is, he deserves it.
But I think I need to be bluntly honest about it with him. Remind him that we broke up, and tell him that I’m about to get all Butch in my ass, and we should have sex one LAST time just for closure.
Because I’m feeling the pull to Butch, big time. And I don’t want to stop myself from doing something smart.