Thursday, June 4, 2009

Vintage Machine

Amusement continues to reign supreme.

In the madness of last weekend, I attempted to fit a date in with Glasses on Sunday night, on my way back up from San Diego. He's on the way, straight up the 5, so it made sense. You have to cycle. If we played Sunday, I'd have almost a week to heal the bruises, scratches, bitemarks, and the like, before seeing another guy.

I don't care if a one-nighter sees marks. Neither of us has any emotional or time investment in the other.

I do care if someone I'm attempting to turn into a regular partner or someone who already is a regular partner sees marks. If I'm with them , I want to be with them at that moment. It's just the two of us and no one else I'm sleeping with should be a factor.

As Dr. Egon says, don't cross the streams.

Be with who you're with.

Also, if you're like me, and consistently snag the alpha males, you don't want to so obviously put it in one of their faces that you're boning someone else. Potentially several someone elses. And if they meet? Yeah, I'll skip that encounter, unless it could turn into a MMF.

Anyhow, he flaked on me, completely and totally. I was disappointed, but determined it was for the best, since I was already exhausted from clubbing and the like on Saturday.

Guys come and go. Sometimes they come several times, and then they go.

Just sayin'.

I'm not a pursuer. I don't believe I should have to chase someone to get them. If there is mutual desire, then I'll act on it. But to attempt to convince someone they want you... no. That's pushing all sorts of boundaries, in my view, on the part of the other person.

So I soar up the freeway, through his area, and send him a single text:

"I'm passing you by. Enjoy your Sunday evening, sir."

He can read into that as he likes.

I spend the next forty minutes on the road, with him dancing in and out of my brain before I finally am able to completely eject him from the realm of possibility in the realm of things that were fun for an evening.

When I saw him for the first time, my breath caught. His looks alone were jawdropping.

Almost perfect. 9.75, if you're giving a score. Blue eyes, black hair, strong jaw, built perfectly. Got to know him. You have a PhD in what? You read as much as I do? You're a bruising dom that will make me whimper and can provide dozens of references if I request them? Wait, you ran what club? You created what website?

Can I just breed with you so we can have perfect babies?

Really, when you have someone that perfect, it's time to conk them over the head and steal their sperm for later use.

Continuing the story... he flaked on me, I wrote him off completely. Didn't care. Didn't try to contact him, didn't try to reschedule. I was done.

Sure, some people might wonder why I have such a reaction to a one-time flaking. I can't stand it. Lack of communication, lack of being where you say you will be at the time you say you will... it's wasting my time. And, honestly, I don't have a lot of time to waste. I'm out constantly, I'm always doing something. Wedging things into my schedule means altering other plans, means turning down other offers, means getting less done.

So I don't take it lightly at all.

But I got an email today. The title? "I owe you an apology".

When someone that hot and well-known in the scene pisses a girl off, he doesn't have to apologize. He just has to open his window, call out that he wants a chick, and wham!, one's in his lap, sucking on his right earlobe and her hand down his fly.

The end.

So I stare at it. Blink a few times. Really? Is this really an email from him, apologizing? It better be a damn good one, because I can't imagine ever bothering to try to meet up with him again.

It was decent. Better than I thought it would be. Of course, since I wasn't expecting one at all, that's not hard to do. But it was enough. Sure, I'm mildly sold.

I'm still wary, though. Not of being hurt, but of clearing the time to see him and then having him flake out once more. I've been stood up once since I started dating, and I don't plan on ever having that happen again.

Which means I now have a mental discussion going.

How long do I make him wait before responding? A day? Two? Until Monday because of my busy weekend?
When I respond, what is my tone? Forgiving? Careless? Eager? Ha, no on that last one. Sure, I want him to fuck me into the next week, but forget this "eager" crap. Annoyed or hesitant?

That's right, baby, I've been burned in the past by a guy flaking out on me and I don't know if my heart can take the strain of it happenin' again. (For those of you not in my head, that was thought with a Texas drawl.)

I'm sure I'll figure it out. I always do. It's a man. I'm good with men. I love men. Men are wonderful.

I'll be honest and me, but I do need to make sure that he knows that this behavior will not fly if he wants a regular play-partner when he's in town (he travels a lot). If he wants to make it a one-nighter, I'm still game. I've kinda hit this apathetic point where I'd like to jump his bones, but it isn't a requirement.

Which is a good place to be.

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