23andMe, Cougar Dating, The Sex Wait

 Dear Sillies,
   Remember when 23andMe was all the rage? My sister asked if I'd tried 23andMe, but I'd not yet heard of it. Thus my mind went to inappropriate terrain. Naturally. 

   I got excited and sweaty...Twenty-three AND ME? Yeah, I like the young guys. At last, a dating site for cougars. Sign me up!

   But for $199? Nah. I can work the scene on my own. Chico's a college town after-all. 

   Well, in a roundabout way, I scored a 23andMe package, and I didn't have to learn that I'm related to Vladimir Putin or anything troubling like that. It still boggles my mind that people get so excited about learning their ancestry and percentage of "Whiteness." Anyway...

   JT's clean and sober. I don't drink alcohol either. We shared sparkling water on the first night we talked. 

   He's 56, and yeah, my fantasy man is closer to 23. But compared to the geezers who are impotent or ever-complaining about their achy muscles, the ones who told me it hurts their rib cage or "You've pressing on my balls" when cuddling, well, JT's just the right amount of alpha male for my taste.

   See: 

   "We'll take it slow," he'd said when we started to date. "I don't want to rush into a sexual relationship again."

   "No, it's fine, I understand." No guy ever told me they wanted to wait. Is he for real? But then, I worried..."Um, how long do you want to wait?" I've done too much celibacy.

   "I don't know, maybe two weeks, or a month or something." 

   Phew. I didn't push back or bring it up (no pun intended). (Or pun intended?)

   Two days after that first night, I called JT. 

   "Great to hear from you," he said. "I'm heading for dinner to celebrate my sobriety birthday. It's 23 years today."

   "Wow, that's awesome. Congratulations." Wait, 23? 23? 23! 23 and Me! I like it. 

   

   A few more dates and JT confessed to "thinking impure thoughts" about me, when alone at night.

   A week or so later, he decided that "We don't have to wait any more."

   I agreed.  JT's every move and gesture was and seems intentional, thoughtful, and loving. It was a wonderful night. He's a darn good, solid man. 

   I got my 23andMe, and I like it. 

   Still holding my breath, smiling too.

Weirdest Breakup Ever, Clark part II

 My Dear Sillies,

   I don't usually cut to the chase. Instead, I cut out the chase. So I'll just tell you that Clark gave me one "installment," (I suspect it was 5.5 or 5.25 inches. I didn't take out my tape measure.)

   Quality-wise, the night was dreamy. He'd brought over dinner and drinks, we talked about past relationships and what we're looking for. A positive, thick tension thickened.  

   "What do you want to do now?" he asked.

   "I want to kiss you." 

   Things heated blissfully smoothly, and we slept well too. It was a wonderfully pleasant and pleasurable night. Clark checked in the following afternoon. 

   He made a salmon dinner for me the following weekend.

   Clark asked me questions, didn't interrupt my responses to tell me tediously boring factoids about himself, and I really, really liked him.

   As soon as he bit into the salmon, Clark felt sick. A few minutes later, I was politely, apologetically asked to leave.      

   What a disappointment.

   "How about if I bring you some homemade matzo ball soup?" I offered the next day. Good move, right? I'd win him over for sure. 

   My soup turned out great. Clark appreciated it so much that he bargained for potato latkes next. I agreed, with a playful (but serious) disclaimer, "That's going to be it for my Jewish dishes, though."

   The night arrived.

   "Mm, mm, these are great! Thanks for making them."

   "Well, truthfully, I used a mix. It's too easy," I grinned. "And I had to taste-test plenty of latkes for you."

   We moved to the couch after dinner. 

   He took my hand. "I planned for you to stay the night," Clark said stoically, "but you like me more than I like you." Okay? "I hate hurting people, so I want to keep dating without the sex."

   Say what? "What would that look like? We already crossed the line."

   "Yes, and it was wonderful. But I potentially want to see other people." You're hurting me so as to not hurt me by refusing to have sex again with me because the sex was wonderful and you assume that I have more feelings for you than you do for me? 

   "I think you're projecting stuff onto me," I shrugged. "Okay, then."

   I got up to retrieve my purse and the left-over latkes.

   "Why are you--? Okay, okay, yeah, you're NOT staying the night after that. I regret ever having sex with you in the first place." 

   Clark walked to his kitchen, retrieved a roll of aluminum foil from a drawer, and tore off a large piece. He very meticulously wrapped the left-over latkes in foil, then handed them to me.

   Damn straight, you don't get these!

   Numb, I took my other belongings and walked to the door. What do I say now? I turned to him. 

   "Well, have a good night," is all I could think to say, because I'm too nice like that. 

   He looked at me sadly, patronizingly. 

   I'm still hurt and perplexed over this non-super man. He probably should've just "ghosted" me, but I guess he really, really wanted potato latkes.   

Girthiness, Celibacy Breakage

Dear Sillies,

Alright, alright, I won't be such a tease. Well, I will, but I'll try to not keep you hanging for too long...It's not nice. Guys don't like that. You don't either, and that's why I love ya. 

Part 2.

"No need to apologize, I had fun," I told Huey. 

"Cool well if your ever up for hanging out I'm down."

   Despite his grammatical challenges, and a significant size differential between us, I liked Huey's genuinely sweet demeanor. So we hung out. Err, he hung out and got me up and down and sideways and backwards and all around. He's strong and flexible that way. 

  I gotta say, though, I had severe performance anxiety every time. Huey is a man of girth - you know what I mean? (Psst: It's not Jewish.) I was astounded by the sight. We worked it out, though, and I survived unscathed.

   Huey and I took walks and went to shows and stuff too, but you don't care about that. (That's another reason I love you. You cheer when I get some).

   A few months into our courtship, I was certain that Huey's funny. I appreciated his sweetness. He's sincere and warmloving too. And Huey's honest. So honest that he told me he doesn't want to hurt me. Thus, to preempt this, Huey told me that we should have an open relationship.

   "I don't feel like you're the one, and I'm not breaking up with you, but if you're open to dating other people...?"

   I thought about it. No, I didn't really think about it. "No. That won't work for me, Huey." Damn tears. 

   Huey and I are still friendly and cordial. I was hurt and sad, of course. But there was no malice. That's relieving.  

   And honestly, between you and me, my Sillies, it's a relief to not feel the pressures of having so much to take in. You know?