Too much talking

Marc often IMs me throughout the day while I’m at work, but mostly in the evening when I’m at home. He takes his laptop to work, and in his downtime, he gets online.

The other night, he was home and his kids were in bed…. and we were chatting about something that led to us talking about how people memorialize loved ones who have passed on, and I was about to tell him a touching story about how my brother got tattoos for a friend who had died, when Marc typed: “I think people who get body art for a dead person are stupid.”

This was right after he told me his mother might have cancer, and so maybe he was dealing with emotional issues surrounding that. But he just didn’t stop.

“Why do people put memorial shit on their cars? How long do we have to leave stuff on the side of the road? Why does everyone else have to be dragged into their grieving process?”

Um…. because everyone grieves differently? Because they are honoring the dead? Because there is such a thing as FREE SPEECH in this country? I don’t think I would do these things, but I respect others who do, and that they have the right to do so.

I ended up very pointedly asking him if he had ever lost someone who was really close to him; he said no. But he deals with dead and sick people on a daily basis. I don’t know how he could have such strong feelings about something that should have absolutely no effect on him whatsoever. I mean, who gives a fuck??? If anything, I think it invites more empathy into the world, and that’s a damn good thing.

I haven’t heard from him for a few days now, so I’m guessing I won’t anymore.

I’m not all that sorry that my fuck friend is gone. Not nearly sorry enough to spend any more time on this public memorial to him.

Rut? What rut?

OK, I know I’ve been lamenting a little about being stuck with having Marc come over every other night. But we have been talking more about things…

He broke up with his girlfriend the other day, and when he asked to come over, I thought, oh no…

I guess it was a little egotistical to think it had anything at all to do with me. But then he let loose about this cute little crush he has on some woman at church. “You know how you get butterflies when a certain person walks in the room?”

So we talked at length about what we wanted from each other, and that neither one of us would be hurt when one of us had to walk away. So, now that the pressure and expectations — if there were any — have been cleared up, I have to say, the sex is even better! We didn’t even have sex that night. We were just pals.

Last night, though, I must have had four really good orgasms. And as he was dressing to go, he decided to take another turn at it. It was unbelievable.

And quite possibly, exactly what I need right now. The quest for love can go on, and I’m not a horndog looking to jump into bed and screw up the next relationship!

God, this must be what it feels like to be a man, LOL.

I was quite tempted, in a moment of complete immaturity, to text my recent ex last night: “I just had the most incredible sex. Why couldn’t YOU do that?”

It helps that I’m getting along great with Tony too. I have yet to meet him, but our emails are kick-ass and I think I’m ready.

The ego — and the libido — are satisfied for now.

This story is getting old

Marc came over Friday, taught me a little about how my furnace functions, instructed me to get a new filter, watched a little TV, and fucked me. I was on my period and made that very clear to him before he even came over, but apparently it didn’t matter.

It was otherwise a slow weekend in the dating department. I really took a step back and reassessed.

And tonight, Marc talked himself over again. He brought me a filter for my furnace since he repeatedly reminded me over the weekend to get one and I had to keep admitting I hadn’t gotten one. We watched Monday Night Football, and he was telling me things about his kids, calling out the plays when I left the room, and rubbing my back as though I was the only one in his life, and I just kept reminding myself that he IS NOT MINE. And I was soaking up his cute little accent. He’s from the area but sounds like… he’s from somewhere else. And I kind of blurted it out to him, that I loved the way he talked.

Which wouldn’t be worth mentioning, except later, when we were having sex — again, on my period — he said, “You love the way I touch you, don’t you? You love my cock. You love when I kiss your neck. You love my accent.”

And I busted out laughing.

When he’s not around, and I drift off into daydream land, I construct elaborate excuses about how I will tell him I can’t see him anymore. But I do have fun when I’m with him. If I start having that twinge where I WANT to be with him, I’m going to have to call it off.

Because I do really like hearing that voice.

What willpower??

I let Marc come over again last night and fuck me. It was … it was some of the best sex I’ve had in a long time.

I’m not emotionally attached to him at all. He’s good to talk to, and we spend a good deal of time with our clothes on too. I do like him. I do know I would never get seriously involved with him. So my thought process is all over the road here.

I’ve always been the kind of person who has to be madly in love to really get the most out of sex, but now that I’m entering my prime sexual years, it seems like I can’t get enough, and I’m experiencing things on a different level. Things I didn’t enjoy before feel great now, and it feels at times like I’ve all of a sudden been placed in this new body and I’m learning about it for the first time. I sat at work today thinking about last night and I am just amazed at this rush of lust I’ve been feeling, as misdirected as it may be.

I remember the first time I heard the expression “fuck friend.” I was aghast. Do people actually DO that? And now, well, I guess that is what I’m doing.

Is it so wrong? I’m struggling with that. It would probably help if Marc didn’t have a girlfriend he hardly sees, but not because of any jealousy on my part. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt because of some stupid primal urge I have, one that I’ve made little effort to control. One that Marc has apparently controlled very little over the course of his lifetime.

If it wasn’t me, he’d probably be fucking someone else. And I don’t know why I’m OK with that.

Good for HER

Marc….

Well, he was insistent on coming over again tonight, but I had a rare night with no work tomorrow and no baby to get up with. I was getting shit done around the house.

“Your clit is so wonderful,” he said. “Can’t you take a break? Talking to you is making me so horny. I wish I could do it rougher for you. You like it rough?”

I relented and told him he could come over, get in my bed and sleep, and fuck me before he went to work in the morning, but that was my only offer.

But he got here and wanted to TALK. About REAL stuff. So we bullshitted about life, and his isn’t all that interesting, though his voice is really nice to listen to. Knowing he is getting a divorce and was here in my house technically cheating on his girlfriend he “didn’t love the way a woman should be loved,” I just flat out asked him: “Did you ever cheat on your wife?”

“Yes.”

“Did she know?”

“Why do you think I’m getting a divorce?”

WOW. So, he sat down and told me the story about how he would get home from work at midnight, and she’d have taken care of all three kids, fed them, put them to bed, and was TOO TIRED to fuck him. I mean, he didn’t say exactly that, but I could read between the lines.

And this wasn’t just a one-time thing. It started when his kids were young. His oldest is 21 now.

“You have to go now,” I told him.

“I understand. What, you can’t now?”

“I’m not going to be some piece of meat for you.”

“What was it? That I cheated? Because I wasn’t satisfied?”

“Did you talk to her about it?”

“She was always too tired. She fell asleep with the kids a lot and would only come to my bed at 4 in the morning.”

“Did you ever put the kids to bed?”

“I read to them once in a while. When I was around. A guy can only take so much.”

“Wow, good for her. OK, I’m sorry. You have to go.”

“There’s two sides to every story.”

“And you just told me hers. I’ve been that side of the story.”

“Yeah, I’m probably not what you need right now.”

NO FUCKING SHIT.

Avoiding a rut

Marc came over again last night. I’m not going to find a real relationship if I get caught up in this mess.

Release

Marc and I have been conversing a lot via IM this past week, about our kids, child support, health, plumbing problems, travel, news events…

I know there is no possibility of a relationship with him — he’s technically still married AND has a girlfriend — but the open communication we have is very comfortable and enjoyable.

Last night the conversation turned to his estranged wife. His story was very sad, and he tried several times to stop chatting about it, but then couldn’t seem to stop.

Marc: it was very hurtful when i came by the house after work cause i saw the screen door left open. i came in and everything was gone. that was painful
Marc: i was full of anger…
Marc: went to church cause it was a saturday evening…
Marc: i wept at the alter afterward when we had prayer time
TODP: you didn’t see this coming?
Marc: helped me clear that anger, at least for that day
Marc: i made a list of stuff for her to take and for her to leave. she took it all except my tools and a few other things
Marc: her b/f and some coworkers moved her out when i was at work
Marc: enough…it makes me angry thinking about it
TODP: you need a margarita LOL
Marc: i do
Marc: don’t have any of that fancy stuff here
TODP: but i just want to know… was it a surprise to you?
Marc: what?
TODP: that she up and left like that
TODP: or were you having problems
Marc: i was in an apartment and my lease was coming up. i told her i was coming back to the house.
TODP: oh, i see
Marc: we had problems for a few years and were in counseling
Marc: i wrote her letters and she would never write me back
Marc: i spoke with her mom, sister, everyone and really don’t know what she wanted. then when she moved out, she tore the 1 wedding picture of us in half and left my side in the frame on the wall
Marc: as her b/f yucked it up i’m sure

After a little more chatting, we exchanged phone numbers and talked on the phone for quite a while. He has a wonderful voice with a very slight drawl, and I could sense the pain he was feeling. I told him I was pouring myself a margarita, and he asked if he could come over for one.

And I said sure.

And I knew what he was really coming for.

And it was awesome.

marc: Thanks…You were great and very sexy!
TODP: of all days for my dad to show up, i have condom packaging in my trash can, LOL
TODP: had fun, thanks for coming. over.
marc: oh no
marc: good thing i wasn’t there
marc: was my pleasure

And we continued IMing throughout the day as if we didn’t just break every moral code ever written.