Tag Archives: wine

On the Cusp

I went home Friday night because #72 fell asleep on the couch and I knew I wouldn’t be getting any action.  I was done.  It felt slightly liberating but sad and myriad other feelings.  I felt like I’ve given him so many chances and as amazing as he is, he had used them up.

On Saturday #72 called me while I was at the park with Dave.  Dave and I were at the park watching this amazingly large wedding party take family pictures.  I looked at all the people who were happy today, knowing that divorce, anger and lawyers were in their future.  Isn’t that for everyone?   

I told #72 I couldn’t do it anymore.  He thought I meant the falling asleep and I said no, the lack of sex.  (I never in A MILLION years thought I’d be saying that.  Not me.  I have a reputation.)  That I can’t wait anymore.  He asked me for another chance, the last one.  He wouldn’t expect anymore and that he knew what he had to do. 

“Hand jobs aren’t going to cut it.”

“I’ll let that slide.  No, I know what I need to do, give me a chance to make this right and take care of you the way you want.”

I think he understands that means taking a nose dive into my snatch while playing with my clit.  Anything less is going to not be enough.   But then, today, with a hangover, I know it’s not going to be enough.  If he had wanted to please me in that way, he would have done it by now.  It’s been two years.   There is no miraculous fix to this and I don’t want to pretend there is.

I’ve only broken up with one other person in my life and I didn’t really care about him.  AND I had Ex-Husband #1 giving me the best sex of my life.  Cumming non stop makes any dumping decision easier.  But right now, I don’t have any kind of Band-Aid.  I can’t use #20.  There has been so much damage in our relationship that even though we said we were going to start from scratch, it’s got failure written all over it.  That said, will #20 and I try again?  Maybe.  If he asks me to dinner, I’m going to go.  I don’t have to fuck him, we can just have a couple glasses of wine or something.  We can try to be friends first.  He likes to say we were always friends, but there was always that sex thing looming over our heads.  Maybe this time will be different.  He lives down the street from me.  #72 is a mile south, #20 a mile north.  Both are walking distance away. 

Moral of the story, maybe I should explore numbers who live East or West of me. 



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I’ll have sex with practically anyone, but actually spending the night is an entirely different thing.  I think it’s an incredibly intimate thing and since Ex-Husband #2, I can count on one hand the number of guys who’ve actually spent the night.

I was going through my divorce and doing the online thing to try and bandaid my broken heart.  It wasn’t really working, but I had needs and was determined to stick with it.  #62 emailed me a few days after I joined the website.   It was obvious from that first email that he was incredibly smart and when we started talking on the phone, I could tell he wasn’t using a dictionary to impress me.   When he suggested meeting up at a wine bar, I was all for it.

In person he was just as interesting but not nearly as cute as I would have liked.   #62 was also going through a divorce and was pretty fucked up about it, as well.   A pathetic match made in heaven.   He walked me to my car and we made out, leaning against the door.  He told me then that he wanted to see me again, and we decided Saturday night would be a good time.  I was hoping it would be.

When #62 showed up at my apartment he handed me a long stemmed iris.  It was beautiful and I was touched.  But he’d been drinking and when I gave him a glass of wine, he downed it pretty quickly.  I suggested we watch a movie, but he wanted to get right to the bedroom.  I was the first woman in 15 years he’d been with other than his wife and he was anxious to make it happen.

Part of the problem with being in a committed relationship is that you don’t need condoms.   When you’re single and fucking random people, you do.   #62 explained that he hadn’t been with anyone so he knew he was clean, but I’m a stickler for protection so I told him no.  He rolled a condom on his half hard dick and put it in me.  And then his became even less hard.  I was disappointed.  I love fucking smart guys and this was proving to be a bust.  Worse yet, he didn’t want to go home.

I left him stay the night but spent the whole time silently cursing Ex-Husband #2 for putting me in this position.  When #62 finally woke up at 7am, I made him a cup of coffee and sent him on his way.  I was annoyed and tired and when he didn’t call me again, I was fine with it.  I wasted a good night’s sleep and a number on a guy who couldn’t keep it up.  Next.

Moral of the story, sometimes the bed is more sacred than the pussy.

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