Start again, start again...

Well, this is interesting. For the sake of privacy on a shared computer, I'm emailing this in instead of posting it straight from blogger.

It's almost like I'm writing a letter to someone.

Almost.

It's Wednesday, so I'm at the Artesia house. I walked into the front room to discover my host and hostess actually being civil to one another. That ended as soon as I walked in. When he sees me, when she sees me, their behavior changes.

It's nothing I've done.

It's that he wants me. He's wanted me since I was 17. 16? I don't remember how old I was when we first met. He wants me to feel sorry for him, wants me to emphasize with him, wants his pain and frustration at his wife to be understood and expects her friends to be okay with him sharing the snide comments and muttered critiques.

So when I walk in, their tenuous peace is broken.

I wonder if he'll pick a fight with her in the morning and give me another pitiful look of "See? See what I have to put up with as I so gallantly go about my morning?"

... ... ... ...

A several weeks ago, I was asked to go attend the opening night of The Birds (a German opera, not a play based on Hitchcock's The Birds"). We went to Cafe Pinot beforehand, so I put on a cocktail dress and heels, did my hair and the like. Mellow, but still nice. Dressing up, for me, is annoying.

After the opera he, of course, invited me back to his apartment. I was feeling absolutely no desire for him, even with his background and experience, even with his notable career, so I politely declined and departed.

And went on another date.

Why not? I've done it before. It's just a matter of logistics and flexibility. Five dates with five different men in one weekend, with the Sunday being an all day affair? No problem. I'm on it.

We met up in Mahattan Beach, in the bar circuit of Manhattan Beach Pier.

This probably wasn't the best idea. Normally, I slide in there with my casual wear, book in hand, and the men who look at me get an eyebrow raise or ignored.

Going down there dressed like a Manhattan Beach bar hoochie just returning from a nice dinner at some restaurant further down the coast... no. Just no. I am never going to do that again.

Drunken whistles and cat-calls, if I hadn't been on tile in heels, walking downhill, they would have been recipients of my stare that declares, "You might be hot, you might be drunk, but if you even think that I belong in your world, that you could fit in mine, if you think that I wouldn't spin your head and spit you out... you'd be so very wrong."

But I kept walking.

Met up with my date, had some late dinner... and then, then he asks me the perfect question.

"So, you up for this?"

Size him up. Odd mix of frat boy/jock turned vaguely nerdy business exec. He's smart. He's quick on his feet and he keeps up with my banter 98% which is not easy to do when I'm fully awake. (Now, when I'm not fully awake, things just get kinda... silly.)

Yes, I'm quite up for it.

We return to his apartment and talk and screw and talk and screw.

It was a decent night.

But, as events unfold, I come to realize that he wanted me not for me, but because so many others do. So he could say he fucked the "infamous V" and, in several circles, that would get him major cool-guy points.

I find that flattering, oddly enough. Maybe I shouldn't. I was hurt for about... oh, twelve hours. And then I realized I was just exhausted from getting three hours of sleep. I get emotional when I'm tired. Took a nap, got up, and I was fine. Mostly fine. Annoyed, but no longer hurt. Felt mildly rejected, but I got over it fairly fast. The sex was fun, but not great. He was hung, but oddly shaped. We didn't quite click on a physical level, and it was noticable for both of us.

Reminds me of that line from Jeanette Winterson's The Passion.

"You play. You win. You play. You lose. You play."

And I do.

... ... ... ...

I think GV8 is going to pop the question. The "relationship question".

I can't.

I refuse to get into a relationship while I'm still so mentally unhealthy, while I still have so many unresolved issues and damages. I need to focus on myself and understanding my core drama so I can deal with it and become a better, healthier me.

I'm concerned that he might not want me to go swinging with him if we aren't in a relationship. He's emotionally monogamous. He probably wants that security of me returning home with him. I would not be so rude to go home with someone else/another couple.

I do like him. I truly do. He's great. He's very driven, extremely experienced, bright, and totally without self-consciousness. Watching him interact with people, watching how he controls and observes while still remaining charismatic and bonding with his audience, it's wonderful.

I don't think he's for me.

Every so often, I'll run across those guys.

Those guys that I will lock eyes with and suddenly I'll know them. I'll know everything but their name and history. We vibrate. We draw towards each other like magnets, impending storm. Something almost always gets in the way.

I want that chemistry. I want that knowing, that internal vibration that makes me want to rub up against them in every way I can.

I'll find one of them about every year and a half.

It's a delight. It's the prize in my crackerjack box.

I want one of them. I want to be with someone with that insane, instant chemistry.

Until then...

You play. You win. You play. You lose. You play.