A Bad Man in a Bad Place

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I broke down and did it.  It, her, the 20 year old.  Definitely an ambivalent moment for me, remembering when I was 20 and envying the 30-something men who were sleeping with the girls I was crushing on, and then accepting that this is just the order of things and living with that.

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Not an adult blogger, but an interesting tumblr blog (and a pretty girl) please welcome Mimi Lachula to the blogroll.

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I was talking to Moxie the other day about relationships and I raised the issue of why I’m not yet married. She mentioned an interesting point that I’m having difficulty even framing, but it’s so obvious that it blows me away that nobody talks about it. And this dovetails with what Captain Jack asked me about why I’m not sleeping with the 20 year old that’s been dogging me lately.

I’ve said for some time that I think that these adult blogs that we write are narcissistic pursuits of feel-good echo-chamber goodness. And I’m as guilty as everyone else in enjoying writing out my life here online and hearing your responses to it. But when I realized that it wasn’t getting me what I wanted, that I was envying my parents life, and my friends lives, I started to wonder what the fuck.

A college classmate of mine, married for three years, read this blog and emailed me - “You’re living the dream, don’t give it up!” I think there may have been an errant “bro” in there somewhere, but we’re men in our 30s, so “bro” sounds a little weird.

What’s funny is that I think that he is.

I’m living the adolescent’s dream, the pickup artists dream, and the dream of every nerd worth his salt. I sleep with the sexiest women, nice girls at heart, the envy of the other men in the room or the city, and so what?

But I’m living my own. And frankly? It has it moments. But on balance, it’s not a great way to be. I wake up alone more often than not. I don’t have someone to share my successes with. I have friends to lean on during failure, but really, who wants to burden one’s friends?

As you can probably tell, I’m in a transition here.

What am I talking about? The lack of a partner. Not a wife or a girlfriend or anything with a label, but a partner. Someone who’s in it with me.

Sure, there are fights, and there is bad feeling and it’s hard and sometimes you look around and wish that you were in a position to chase down the new pussy. But it’s not about that. It’s about waking up next to the same person. Working on it together. And being together at the end of our lives.

I’m thinking of a specific West Wing reference here - the President, having an MS attack before an important event, can’t tie his own tie. His wife stops him before he hurts himself and says “this is why we take vows.” That got me thinking about why to get married. It’s about the other end of life, and it’s a bet you’re taking with yourself and your partner that on balance this is a better idea in the long run than not.

On the other side, of course, is Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones in Men In Black II:

“You know what they say. It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. “

“You try it.”

I don’t know. All I know is that as I look around at most of the adult blogs that I’ve seen have been about celebrating the sexual, which is great, but we all know how to fuck. We know the 71 positions, that a man’s g-spot is as sensitive as a woman’s, how to make a woman squirt, how to have multiple orgasms, and how to make a woman feel instantly attracted to you and think it was her idea. But so what? I’ve had a rotating set of partners since The New Yorker. I tried to settle down with The Writer and I wasn’t ready to settle down, and I tried to slow down, at least, with the Sous Chef, and it wasn’t the right fit at the time.

The questions that I’ve been asking lately when I meet women are threefold:

1) Would I like to wake up next to her for the next several decades?

2) Would I consider what life would be like to be with her and then lose her?

3) How do I think she would be as a mother?

Because those are the important questions. I got the steroid monkey sex “out” in my 20s. The BDSM, the threesomes, the make-out parties, the rotating cast of women, and you read along here.

Not that I’m necessarily stopping those things, but those that follow my Twitter know that I’ve been struggling with a 20 year old who has been throwing herself at me lately. I’m currently 33. I finally decided not to pursue the 20 year old. She’d be fun, but as the good book says, with great power comes great responsibility (the good book being the Fantastic Four). She’d have a good time, I’d have another story and probably a good time, and I know she’s into the crazy hang-from-the-chandeliers sex that I’m used to having and enjoying.

Can I see waking up next to her for the next several decades? When I’m 46, she’ll be as old as I am now? I’ll be the envy of those people that envy men with younger wives, but is it good for -me- and/or -us-? No.

The other two questions don’t even get raised, therefore.

I have a lot more thoughts on the issue and shared them with Moxie. Mostly, it has to do with marrying someone not just for the wedding, not just for the good sexy first year or seven, but for the commitment to share a life together and to be there when things get bad. The sex is one axis, but only one axis, along which the relationship should be built. Maybe that’s why I’m not a jealous person when it comes to physical cheating so long as there’s an agreement between the parties. I’d rather we stay a strong couple and she fuck someone else than she spend her time daydreaming about what it would be like and get lost in the daydream while neglecting us. I don’t know if that’s the “working” equation. I don’t think there is one. It’s a partnership and whatever works for the two of us, how do we know what works for us unless we talk about it?

That’s where it stands, though. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this, and thus don’t have any scandalous behavior to titillate you with because I’ve been actively avoiding it. I guess that means I’m growing up?

It’s been suggested that I try online dating. JDate or something. As a sort of end-of-line pool of women who are looking, actively, for a husband. It’s worth considering, I suppose. I’d rather meet someone at a benefit or a coffee shop, but at this point, I’m willing to try new things.

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After speaking with the Sous Chef a few weeks ago, I got an email from her on Monday morning asking if I was going to our mutual friends birthday party. I’d been invited a few days earlier and committed to going, and I told her so.

When I did, she told me that she was going to be there and looking forward to seeing me. I was guarded, as you would be if you showed up and someone who had dumped you was going to be there.

I won’t get into the details, but the night was a success. I met the love of the Sous Chef’s life, I caught up with her, she told me that she was “proud of me” for the series of revelations that I’ve had lately, and that she was glad to see that I was being less of the Bad Man and more of the guy she thought she’d met when we first met on July 4.

At the end of the night, I walked her to Broadway and to a cab. I don’t remember which of us asked first, but one of us said “do you want to come over tonight?” She’d made subtle references to things she didn’t like about my apartment throughout the night, as if to ask whether I’d fixed them and she’d be comfortable there. I had. When push came to shove, however, she wouldn’t go home with me. I asked.

Instead, she hailed a cab. “Do you want to cuddle? Just cuddle?” I admitted that I did.

Whether it was closure, the opportunity to see another New Yorker’s apartment (hers is nicer than mine), or just an excuse to spend a bit of time with her, I followed her to the Upper East Side. We reminisced about events along the route from one of our longer walks, and talked at the highest level about our lives.

There’s a certain comfort to be had with lovers, and I think that those of us who speak English lose out to the French in their nuanced view of love. I have no illusions about how things will turn out with the Sous Chef - she’s not for me, and I’m certainly not for her. But we did have a connection, and I have affection for her which is, I think, returned. We can root for each other, as I have done for Princess in the past, and sometimes, when we need comfort, we can turn to each other and be a temporary shelter. So long as we understand the issues, knows that it’s a temporary thing, and knows that while there is something like love that isn’t love, that it’s affection, good feelings, and caring, then everything is alright.

I got closure that night in a way that our phone call hadn’t given me. I now leave the experience happy that I had it, as opposed to the way it was before.

On our way up to her place, every 10 blocks I asked if she was sure she wanted me to follow her there. I knew that it wasn’t me she wanted or needed, but that she needed someone. She seemed conflicted, wishing that it was the other guy, but since he wasn’t available, I was safe, and kind, and in the cab with her. We talked for about an hour, and I held her. She drifted off to sleep mid-sentence, and eventually, I followed. I woke up at 7:30 with the first of her many alarm clocks. I thanked her, through her sleepy-haze, for everything. Gave her a kiss on the top of her head that somehow I can still feel and smell, and said “Be good. Don’t be a stranger.” I dressed, and left.

I sent her a text message on my way out, fully expecting to never hear from her again, but saying thank you, and that I was glad we’d seen each other, and that we should stay buddies and she shouldn’t be a stranger anymore. After her precipitous disappearance, and everything else that had happened, I truly didn’t expect to hear back, and didn’t care if I didn’t, I’d gotten the opportunity to put one of my ghosts to rest, an opportunity few people ever get.

At noon, I heard back from her. She liked the idea of being friends and staying in touch.

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I’ve had this problem. She proposes good solutions.

It’s been my observation that very often, when men are having trouble reaching an orgasm, it’s not because they aren’t enjoying the sex, it’s just because they’re thinking too much. They are too much in their head - and not the little one.

[From Mistress Matisse's Journal]

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Great.

But a handful of new studies suggest surprising changes in the marital landscape. Infidelity appears to be on the rise, particularly among older men and young couples. Notably, women appear to be closing the adultery gap: younger women appear to be cheating on their spouses nearly as often as men.

[From Well - More People Appear to Be Cheating on Their Spouses, Studies Find - NYTimes.com]

Perhaps the only sort of marriage that really works is one like Lex and Les’s - where it’s not cheating, it’s part of the marriage.

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Bad Man: my life’s kinda funny. Would you have guessed, in 1997, that this is how it would have turned out?
Old College Buddy: honestly? yeah
Old College Buddy: for you, most definitely
Bad Man: so how do I end this part of my life and find someone to luuuuv
Old College Buddy: end what part? the hooking up part? the school part? what exactly?
Old College Buddy: because they all overlap
Bad Man: the hooking up part, mainly.
Old College Buddy: i’ve been reading your blog pretty religiously since the beginning
Old College Buddy: the common thread for you and hooking up? alcohol and bars.
Old College Buddy: i really haven’t heard of you meeting a woman at a library
Old College Buddy: or a book store
Old College Buddy: or a convention where brilliant people laugh at us intellectual peons
Bad Man: parties
Old College Buddy: you always put yourself in situations where alcohol is the main aspect
Old College Buddy: you don’t do the Jdate thing
Old College Buddy: you don’t get set up on dates because the people you’ve asked to set you up are in the “community”
Old College Buddy: you need to reach out to your more “mainstream” friends to help
Old College Buddy: change the venue
Old College Buddy: it sounds like iyou’ve changed your outlook based upon your blogs
Old College Buddy: but you’re still doing the same thing, going to the same places
Old College Buddy: the community you’re a part of is quite insular
Old College Buddy: and i feel like they all want the best for you. based on their comments
Old College Buddy: yet noone is encouraging you to change your moment to moment, day to day, night to night, behavior

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I’ve been out of the loop since several Friday’s ago. I’ve been sick, away, working, and processing the whole series of revelations (mainly my fever dream).

Now, I’m stuck at home for the weekend, while everyone else gets to go play. So, if you’re inclined, tell me a story in the comments. Or a joke. Or IM me (badmanbadplace@gmail.com). Or something. All work and no play makes Bad a dull boy.

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Grace Chu, an old and dear friend of mine, is heavily involved in the 8 against 8 campaign. Go donate. And of course, Sinclair’s involved. You don’t need any more reasons to get involved. I promise. So do it. Now.

Remember: until gay marriage is legal, straight divorce should be outlawed. I mean, it’s to defend the sanctity of marraige, and all.

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The Sous Chef got in touch with me tonight, after I poured my heart out down there. I’m trying not to think of it as her taking pity on me, but whatever it was, it was most helpful. She gave me a fair bit to think about, and explained where she’d been. Miscommunication and a lost email explain a lot of the situation.

Outside of the racing heart that I got when she first called, it was good to hear from her, excellent to clear the air, and the things she said resonated. The reasons she left me (yes, she left me, it happens) sound a LOT like the things I’ve been worried about about myself. Which is good. I’m on the right path, now, and she just reinforced that. Good.

UPDATE:

A few notes.

1) The breakup was triggered, in part, by a glass of wine I had with the Sous Chef and one of her friends. On the one hand, there was her friend, innocent, sweet, etc. Sitting next to her was me, not innocent, a bad man, etc. She looked at the two of us and chose which way she wanted her life to go. She chose innocence. I’m glad she did both for her sake, and for mine.

2) It’s hard to do justice to the variety of women that I meet over the course of being me. Some are beautiful, some are cool, some are interesting, some are fun, and something about them draws me to them. In the Sous Chef’s case, it was that she was beautiful, and goofy, and charming, and wise beyond her years. As she said, she was a peach. I wasn’t in a position to properly pluck a peach, but I’m glad I got to taste what one is like.

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