Tuesday, July 10, 2012

You Asked For It: More on The Artist

So I was on a high.  Alliteration, tears, and puke aside, connecting with a straight man was like discovering a new home planet. It really felt like I was in outer space. This particular experience was unlike anything else I ever experienced in my 35 years.

Then a couple days later, he texted me, "Although I enjoyed our evening of starry sweetness, I am not ready to open my heart to anyone right now."

And I cried.

I did!  I wanted more!  I wanted more attention!  I wanted more of being called a sexy young mom, even if it was followed by white Welsh and woman!  I needed this escape.  I was very muchly disappointy.

After I calmed down, I decided to send him a text.  Not sending a text would have 'said' more than actually sending something- something unemotional and short.  "I appreciate your honesty."

Then he texted right back!  "Funny.  I was just getting ready to text you again.  Forgive me for my earlier text.  I really would like to see you again."

Oh, it gets better.

So now I'm in the just-go-with-this mode ala The Artist, "I'm glad," I text back.  "By the way, I am looking at a gorgeous sunset."

"I am looking at a gorgeous sunset as well."

"Well, I guess, we're looking at the same one," I say.

"Yes.  Gorgeous and shared."

To make a long story short, we never went on a proper date again.  But he invited me over 2 or 3 more times.  One of which, he answered the door in only his underwear and just stood there not moving aside so I could come in.  Is this what you want, you sexy, young, Welsh, fish belly?

We still did not do the deed.  I swear!  I just wouldn't, even though at one point of kissy-time, he looked at me with a pained expression and said, "I want to be inside."

Oh, brother.  "Nope."

But there was a strange thing he did.  Really strange.  When I told a friend about it, she screamed.  

Once he bragged about having done an entire all-female ski team in the span of a week.  "Come on!  Seriously??  There had to be at least one lesbian in the group!"  "There was," he said, "and she brought a friend."

I eventually texted him that we shouldn't see each other anymore, cause the more time we spent together, the greater the possibility of me having emotions and feeling things.  He clearly was not in this to feel things.  I was smart enough to know that I needed to back out.  I had already nursed a half a beer over him.


  1. "I want to be inside"?! Could there possibly be a less enticing way to say you want to have sex?

    ...well, OK, yes, there might be. But that one's pretty bad.

  2. I freaking LOVE how you write! Ever since Carrie shared your blog with me I have been amazed at your strength and ability to be candid! I am so grateful for the smiles and joy your writing has brought to me.

  3. Thanks, Jerry! That truly means SO MUCH!

  4. I think, 'I banged an entire ski team' (paraphrase) might be the worst come-on line ever. Even worse than, 'I want to be inside' which kind of freaks me out honestly.

  5. No idea how I found your blog, but I was instantly in love and just read back like a million of your posts. You. Are. Hilarious. It's refreshing. Keep on keepin' on!

  6. Love this, Ashley. There IS something to be said for an FWB! .... and...by the bye...there is nothing like learning about The Difference after being the revirginated mother of fill-in-the-blank children and wife of a gay (closeted or otherwise) man. The French say it best.