D-Day

They say it takes 28 days to kick a habit. I didn’t realize I had a habit until I tried to spend a month without men.

This all started yesterday at the salon. I get my hair cut by a straight man named Jay. A wonderful guy who is single and a little bit lost at the moment. Jay has been cutting my hair for years and we have developed a great friendship. Also, he makes me look fabulous and I would follow him anywhere. Yesterday I was getting a colour only, and, since it was early on a Tuesday, no one else was there besides Joanne, my colourist, and Christine, the salon’s assistant. It is rare for it to be just us girls in the salon. I had spent the last week in preparation for my latest business trip (Europe for a month), and was sick and exhausted. I am vague about the ‘business trip’ part because I am sick of explaining what I do. When pressed I will tell people I am a travel writer. My close friends know of course that I write books for lovers – those on honeymoon, or on a romantic retreat with a partner. Apparently my books are quite popular with those cheating on their spouses and/or those traveling with their significant sources of sugar. I read once that the majority of people are happy with their careers if they feel as though they are contributing to something greater than themselves and making a difference in the world. Does it matter if you are disgusted by how you contribute?

As Joanne started on my hair I mentioned to her how tired I was. She said she could tell cause I was usually all “shits and giggles.” I felt mildly guilty for not being my usual chipper self and entertaining them all, but not enough to pretend to be happy – which I may have done if Jay had been there. I had never noted before how hard I work to make the men in my vicinity comfortable. Whoa – I am going to have to come back to that epiphany later.

The more I gave in to my mood the more easily the perils of the past week spilled from my mouth. I started bitching to Joanne – always up for a good story -- about the men I had spoken to that day and the reasons I felt they were contributing to my current state of malaise.

Reason Number One: Junior. On a purely technical basis, the sex I have been having with him is the best sex of my life (besides the Cuban, but we must forget him if I am to ever have sex with any normal man again). Yes there are other things involved in the chemistry between two people that has made sex with other men emotionally better, but he certainly has a special gift. He takes his time, waits for me to cum once or twice before he does, pays attention to the directions I move, the angles I like and what brings me pleasure and then puts himself in the position to be able to do that work for me so I didn’t have to bother myself with it. He is very attractive, well built, great dancer, good job, called often (at first) and drives a nice car. Everything was all well and good for the first couple of weeks until he started to disappear on week ends. It began innocently enough: He was supposed to come over for dinner one night and meet my dearest friend Michelle. They both worked at the same bank (in different areas) and I thought Michelle would be able to shed some light on Junior’s future career prospects for me - I am aware that this is shallow. Unfortunately his mother had just had an operation on her arm (frozen shoulder) and was screaming in pain so badly that his father had to take her to the hospital. Junior had no idea where they were so he drove around to a couple of hospitals until he found her. How sweet – I thought initially – although I was annoyed that I had actually cooked and he wasn’t able to come. This was Thursday night. For the rest of the week end he completely disappeared: did not return my calls or my text messages. I figured for sure the story about his mother was a complete crock of shit and that he had blown me off to hang out with his friends/girlfriends or whatever.

So I talk myself out of liking him (with Michelle and Sara - another dear friend's help), and then Monday comes around and he suddenly calls and I ask him to come over. I bite my tongue for about an hour and then give him the following speech: “I am not that girl who needs to know where you are every second, but I think it is really disrespectful not answering my calls or my text messages. I don’t care if you are out seeing other people, or want to hang out with your friends, but don’t make it seem like we are going to see each other and then just go off and do something else. If you have something else to do – just say it!”

So then the excuses started. My Mom was in and out of the hospital all week end – she was in a lot of pain – it was really upsetting. So I am thinking “what the hell is wrong with your mother that she actually screams from the pain she is in. Jesus that would stress me out too and actually I hope I never meet her if she is that dramatic.” Then he tells me that he lost his phone and got a new one. It is not even worth it to me to try to explain to him all the reasons why that is not an acceptable excuse.

It all makes me feel tired. I just want to have sex with this guy and have normal conversations, and have reasonable expectations as to when he is coming or going without him fantasizing about having me as a “girlfriend” so he can lie to me about where he is and what his commitments are. So then I just stand there staring at him and tell him that I have very simple expectations. He says, “Do you like my new phone?”
“That is not really what we are talking about here Junior.”
“I know,” he says, and walks over shyly and starts rubbing my shoulders. “Let me give you a massage?” And we all know what massages lead to.
"Ok," I say – and all is forgiven, that is all I really wanted anyway right?

Junior is not an aggressive guy – he does pretty much whatever I say, or at least agrees to it initially, but he does not apologize or give any reasonable explanations for his behaviour when he messes up.

By the time I got to the salon yesterday it was the third week end out of about 6 that he had disappeared. I sent him a text on Sunday morning telling him that what he was doing was making me feel like an asshole. He texted me on Tuesday saying: “I didn’t know what to say to that message so I haven’t called. If I call you, will you stab me?”

My response: “I can’t stab you though the phone.”

So he calls about a half hour later (!!!) I told him I think he is more afraid of telling me he can’t come over, so he says he can, but then disappoints me (all I had asked him to do this week end was to come over and fuck me at about 6 PM on Friday – the day we had had plans to meet since both of us were going out of town the next week). I will not re-hash all of the details of this conversation because I am guessing you have all already had it in one form or another with someone. Its resolution was that when he gets back from Florida (where he says he is going to golf alone every day – we all know this is bullshit too) he will be more settled and all this stuff will end. My question was – “when you get back from Florida your method of communication will be different?” My sarcasm was evidently lost on him since he deludedly said yes.

My discussion of this relationship at the salon sparked tales from both Joanne and Christine about men who don’t return calls, and don’t seem to take them into consideration at all. Christine was very passionate about one fellow who’s excuse for not answering her calls all day was that he was playing video games. WTF? Just say you are not interested! Seriously, is that too much to ask?

I was reminded of a sex and the city episode I had just watched where Samantha said: “women think about WE all the time in a relationship, when men think about we in a relationship it means me and my dick.” Well said my friend.

Reason number two:

When Junior had disappeared on the week end leading up to my going away for a month I was forced to go out and meet another man on the Friday night. His name was Andris. A 39 year old Business consultant and writer who has just gotten out of a serious relationship. He told me when we met that he had been going to the gym to work out his ass cause girls like guys with a tight butt. First of all – who the hell told you that that would be the best place to spend your energy? Secondly, why are you revealing to me that you are looking for a serious relationship? Don’t you know that is the kiss of death? He must be on the rebound.

After two gin and tonics I took it upon myself to share some information with him that I really think all men should know: There are four things that women look for in a man.

1. Is the sex good? I don’t care how much people protest that it is more important to men than women, it is, in fact the complete opposite. A man’s ability to rock her world in bed is the explanation for why most women date complete idiots. His inability to rock her world in bed is the explanation for the 50% + Divorce rate. Women very rarely admit this, but it is the sex that keeps you together when times are tough, and the memory of your once amazing sex that keeps you coming back for more when his well of invention dries up.

2. Does he make you laugh? If number one fails at any point, this can be a decent back up in a short term situation (or past the age of menopause, but for the sake of argument we are talking about pre-menopausal relationships here).

3. Is he intellectually stimulating? Actually stimulating, not just thinks he is.

4. Every thing else. All the so called deal breakers are in here, but they will be overlooked if those first three are all there.

Andris seemed very surprised by my summation. So we went back to his place to test it out. The sex wasn’t very good. He didn’t have Junior’s skills, but we are more intellectually suited than Junior and I are, and sexually there could be potential, but not a lot of chemistry. AND he doesn’t really make me laugh. Plus he reeks of desperation (which I am sure this book will reveal of me as well).

Even though it was awful the first time I still decided to give him another chance, and invited him to the opening of a rock bar in town. He showed up dressed in an outfit that was likely purchased by his mother and ordered a beer. We spoke for awhile at the bar, but he was completely un-interested in speaking to my friends or socializing. I was disappointed in the way he looked because I looked fantastic in a new dress, and had just had my hair done. I was also disappointed that he was drinking a beer. This was an exclusive, invite-only party with many potential contacts to be made. We weren't really getting along very well, so I was really glad when he excused his self to use the bathroom. While he was gone I started to speak to a group of men beside me. When Andris came back I had my back to where he had been standing. He thought it would be a good idea to take use his beer to get my attention by pressing it into my back, causing me to jump and turn around. After that I tried to socialize more by sending my friends 'help me' looks. It worked for awhile and we went upstairs to dance. After about 10 minutes of peaceful dancing he tried to make out with me on the dance floor. That is where I drew the line. uukkyyy

So Andris was added to my bitch list because the only thing worse than no sex is bad sex, and the only thing worse than not dating is dating someone who embarrasses you.

Reason Number Three:

Men who get mad at you because they can’t get what they want when they want it. I realize this is a contradiction, because all I say I want is sex from Junior when I want it. We all know that is not really the case. I want the same thing every time. To be swept off my feet by a confident man who loves me, respects me, laughs at my jokes and won’t take no for an answer (unless I mean it). There were two of these angry guys projecting their shit on me that day. One fighting with his ex-wife who he is convinced is also me, and the other- pissed that I don’t want to see him anymore is picking fights with me about money.

Reason Number Four: The ever-elusive Brandon. This is the guy who I fell in love with on our first three dates, but who wouldn’t touch me. I came up with a million reasons as to why - he was a gentleman, he was really serious about me and wanted to be sure before he made the first move . . . until he finally took me out for dinner and told me he didn’t want to be my boyfriend, but really liked hanging out with me and just wanted to be friends. I cried at the table in front of him. It was awful. I had only known the guy for about two weeks. So I decided he could be my friend and kept “hanging out” with him, getting to know him, deepening our connection – which is un-deniable – and letting myself get hurt. I will not list his flaws here because I would over look them – I already do – and I am pretty sure he would cause a lot of pain in my life if we were together, but I feel like he could be the one (I roll my eyes as I write that). SO I haven’t seen nor heard from him for months – he is “traveling”, yet I still obsess. We never had sex – nor kissed. This is more than a case of my wanting something I can not have, but I can’t seem to let go. Maybe he is my Mr. Big?


By the end of my session with the girls I was looking fabulous, but feeling even more emotionally exhausted than before- so I suddenly declared: “I am tired of obsessing over men. I spend so much energy on this shit. I wonder what I could accomplish in the hours I think, talk and dress for men. That’s it. I am going to spend a month without men, but I won’t start till January cause it is not convenient for me right now and no one wants to be celibate when they are traveling. . ." I was talking myself out of it already . . . and Joanne was no help:

“Ya, don’t do it in Europe – there are a lot of hot guys there.”

But knowing myself as I do I knew that if I didn’t take this on now it would never happen, and the thought of spending another day hoping every text message, email, glance or phone call was from one of the admirers clamouring to be my husband made me feel like someone was loading my purse with bricks! So I said: “I am going to start it now.”

And so I did.

My flight left for London that afternoon. Four weeks in Europe visiting romantic locations, watching couples fight, ignore the service staff and make pigs of themselves.

After a reasonable flight to London I checked into my hotel near Stanstead where I would catch my flight to Sweden the following morning. In the lobby I waited in line. The English have this infuriating habit of forming lines wherever possible. It’s like they feel that nothing is worth having unless you have to wait in line for it. I like to bud wherever possible in England, and it is surprisingly easy. The taste of bitterness from my man dilemmas was still fresh on my tongue so I figured why not add on a little misery and stand in line with the Bitter Brits.

Got in the elevator and looked at myself in the mirror. What is wrong with me? I asked the familiar question. I am beautiful, I have a bit of a belly, but there were plenty of fat women in the lobby with big fat rings on their fingers. This question is the one that takes a little piece of me away every time I ask it. This question is the reason I will follow through with this experiment. If nothing else, I have to heal this disconnection with myself.