Was I going out so much so I didn’t feel this aloneness? So I didn’t have time to think about the icky stuff? Maybe.Friday 8:45 p.m.
It’s a manufactured dumb day. I’ve had so many bad ones; (same with New Year’s Eve) the worst were with Hillbilly, pretending everything was okay. I’m fine to be by myself at home. It’s the worst night to go out for dinner. It’s crazy, cramped, expensive and not even the normal good food a restaurant serves. I truly don’t care about that.
I just realized the similarities in NYE this year and Val. Day. I’m home and sick, again.
The slate of men is mostly cleared which I’m mulling. I expect them to reach out if they wish to see me. They aren’t. There are several reasons for this I think, depending on the dude.
One kinda dude really did have fun and likes me a little too much on the first date. He foresees and truthfully so, me walking away from him. He is protecting himself. (Smartass, Liberal Marine, Prince A.)
Another kinda dude doesn’t like a woman who won’t be exclusive from minute one and so is uninterested.
The third dude is an asshole I guess? He pretends to be on a date and is really just looking for a one-night hookup. I might not mind a one-night hookup. I just want honesty so I’m not wondering why I’m not being asked to hang out again.
The last kind I think is lazy? Maybe? We have fun and go on a few dates. He is attentive and then he’s just not. The Italian is an example of this. He really liked me. He was “smitten.” Mmmmhmmm. We had three fun dates. He went out of town and fell off the face of the earth. I heard from him once but no ask for a date. Yet.
Now if I thought there were any possibility of anything really good with these people I would reach out to them. There’s not. Perhaps they know that too.
I’ve tired of the game of the dating apps: swipe left on 100 weirdos, swipe right on 10 sort of interesting men, match with several, talk with one who makes the time, meet, laugh and flirt, have a grand time, be honest about where I’m at in life, maybe have sex. Now with many, it ends here. I find it so strange. Why go through that whole rigamarole again: swipe, match, message when they could just ask me out again? I don’t know.
I think most men don’t have courage. I think they are little chicken butts. I think I scare them.
Except the DJ. I don’t scare him. He texted today and called for just a few minutes. It’s been almost four weeks since we’ve gone out. I swear that is such a weird feeling.
And The Poet, he isn’t scared but that’s different. A true FWB situation there.
I’m looking forward to spring, to bike riding, to warmth, to exploring my city, some travel, building a female tribe, maybe moving in with my gay bestie. Lots of cool things coming. This week sucked, big time, big time. For good reason. (Wrote about some of those the other day. Some I couldn’t write about. It was a poopy week. It’s over. Sort of. I’m still sick and most of the problems are still there but I’ll do my best. And that’s all I have. Right?)
This blog says 5 months to the end of the year of Sluttery. I got that by adding the three months I was with Crankypants to April 2019 when I left Hoppy. I’m not jumping into a relationship AT ALL. I think it’s going to be the Year of Discovery, just in a different way than I thought maybe. Less about men and more about me.
More about activities and friends, nature, wanders, writing, reading, laughter.
You know how I change my mind about things.
I do know that right now the thought of a dating app makes me sick.
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