I’m Not In Love And That’s Weird

March 22nd, 2017

I’m always in love, aren’t I?

I’m always falling or fallen and pained because of it. There’s always someone. A person. Him. Occasionally Her.

For over half my life. Nearly every day of every year.

I am good at being in love, even if I am not good at being in a relationship.

But I am not in love now.

I haven’t been, not for a year. Give or take (and it usually is take).

I am infatuated with dead celebrities. Attracted to assholes who are terrible in bed. Curious about new people. But I am not in love.

That is okay, of course. I don’t always have to be in love. Sometimes I don’t even want to be in love.

But you can become accustomed to things that you don’t want or need. We do it all the time, even when we shouldn’t. Especially when we shouldn’t.

So when I realized that I wasn’t in love and that this is the longest stretch in my entire adult life where I haven’t been in love, it gave me pause.

Still, it feels good. Somehow. I am not in love, but I know I will yet again fall in love. I can look forward to the good (and brace myself for the bad) of falling in love.

I am something of a fresh slate, ready to be written. Then crossed off and erased. Modified and corrected. Maybe it’ll even be a happy story for a time.

Either way, it’ll be fodder for this blog. For my writing.

I’m not in love now. That’s okay. I’ve got time.

It’ll happen sooner than we all think, anyway.



I Don’t Want to Have Sex with Myself

October 28th, 2015

Well, no, that’s not exactly right. I am a sexual being. I generally enjoy masturbating, even if my orgasms are more perfunctory than anything else, and even if the most I get out of squirting is bragging rights (it doesn’t accompany orgasm).

But it’s not something I’ve ever been good at planning per se. Because I don’t I want to. Unlike with sex, masturbation is almost always something I do at the spur of the moment, and that’s how I like it. If the mood strikes after watching a particularly sexy movie scene or browsing Tumblr, I’ll pause for somewhere between 1 and 10 orgasms, weak wrists and fatigued arm muscles allowing.

I can’t really entice it to happen, however. Sometimes erotica helps, but it doesn’t always. And I don’t necessarily care that much. It’s like I simply can’t be bothered to stop playing Ingress or watching another episode of The Munsters (because it’s almost Halloween!) or playing some random Facebook game that’s not just a time suck but a boring one at that.

It’s disconcerting to care so little for something that defines me so much, but right now it’s something I can “get away with” because of my lack of sexual partner. And even if you argued I am my own partner in this, it’s not something I’m chasing myself down to do. I’ve no doubt this will change eventually, but it’s a weird place to be in right now.


1 Comment

See You Next Week!

July 4th, 2013

Tomorrow starts a 3-hour trek to CONvergence. I’ll be on Twitter if you need me. Please don’t need me.


The First Almost-Love

June 19th, 2012

When I was fourteen years old, I met a boy. We shared a morning gym glass and, somehow, forged a friendship talking about HTML and Web pages, while I tried to ignore how utterly untalented I am at the physical feats that I was expected to do in said gym class. At the time, I was probably in some on-again, off-again online relationship with an ex, but I thought that this boy was nice and sort of cute. I remember IMing with one of my good friends, having one of those typical teenaged girl conversations. Did she know who he was? Did she think he was cute? I was sort of, kind of thinking of seeing where things went, you know, romantically. Oh em gee.

This was really the first time when I considered that I might be someone who someone else could like. That I wasn’t as defective as I’d previously thought. That I could have real life romance, just like in the movies where teenagers in high school had romance!

So, I talked to this boy. He would meet me after every class. We’d hang out during study halls, and he would walk me home from school, as I lived close enough to walk. It was flattering, and then it wasn’t. Then it became too much. I needed space. I wasn’t just being turned off. I was feeling almost frightened, because I was out of my element. Then, one day, he wrote me a note. Now, this isn’t a big deal because he wrote me a note. This is a big deal because, in this note, he pretty much confessed all his love for me.

I was barely ready to say maybe I liked him. I couldn’t handle this love. So I did what any teenaged girl would do. I freaked the fuck out and talked to another guy friend. I asked him could he talk to my newfound stalker and tell him that I needed space? Of course, he said. And he did. I don’t know what was said, but I do know that my new friend didn’t talk to me for several months. In fact, it would take the tragedy of 9/11 to reunite us. He would apologize for coming on too strong, and I would apologize for freaking out and not talking to him like an adult.

For years, I joked about my friend-turned-stalker-turned-friend, and we’re great friends now. He’s one of the few offline friends who know about this blog, the sex toys, the reviewing. But I had no idea that this boy from gym class would become anything that he has been to me over the years. We’re at a point where we could never go back. Because we weren’t able to become romantically involved then, we’ll never be able to now.

I suppose there is a lesson in all of this, but I’m just not sure what it is. Mostly, I’m just glad that I have an interesting story to tell, something to remember and make me think “I was alive.”

1 Comment

It happened like this.

October 2nd, 2011

I had more or less resigned myself to the idea that the hot nerd just wasn’t into me. That I’d fallen for a guy who showed no interest but plenty of mixed signals and that I was going to eventually have my heart broken. I decided to go with it because he’s the type of guy who is worth having a broken heart over and because, although it’s confusing and sometimes frustrating, I’ve never had the chance to be in a situation like this before. Not when I was a teenager. Not when I was married. For the first time in my life, I was feeling young and stumbling to learn the steps. I was reclaiming a lost youth.

And so I began to wistfully wish that the time we spent together meant more but resigned myself to being just friends. If you can even call it resignation because really, just being his friend is amazing. A game changer. And although I was happy to have that, I wanted more. The cuddles we shared as just friends were as excruciating as they were wonderful. As much as I fretted over them after, I looked forward to them before.

As I was looking forward to those cuddles today, for our planned movie day. It wasn’t intended to be a date, just informal but we knew there’d be cuddles. And there were. There was laughter and fun and it was platonic. It was even platonic until there were cuddles — at first. But then the movie ended and the cuddles got closer and more horizontal. Then the kisses started. Tiny kisses on the forehead, the nose, the cheek. These kisses were accompanied by nuzzles. It was silly and perhaps still within friend territory. Odd friend territory but still in there.

And then there was a tiny kiss on the lips. Closed mouth. Almost doubtful. What if he was aiming higher or lower and just missed? Then there were more tiny kisses on the lips. I would occasionally reciprocate or place a quick kiss on the side of the mouth. This went on for long enough that I as a little wild, a little doubtful that anything was going on at all.

But then it happened. A tiny kiss, a kiss back and then mouths were open and things go sloppy and tongues touched. It happened once. I was already analyzing the closed-mouth kisses but this was too much. The cuddles continued. The tiny kisses continued. And then there were more open-mouth kisses. They got longer, they felt more passionate. They were still sloppy. To be honest, we sucked.. but I wanted nothing more than to suck as kissing the boy I was kissing at the moment.

In my head, I kept thinking I didn’t want it to end and it did go on for a good while. Maybe a couple hours? I am a lucky girl. Then, I had to mention my back hurting and inquired if he wanted to move to the bedroom. Too soon, I think. He put his glasses back on and we began to wrap up our night together, after realizing what time it was.

We said good bye after a long hug and then I jumped to analyzing everything.

Obviously, I needed a long cuddle. I feel less anxious in general. I’m flattered that someone so good looking would cuddle me. It gives me a confidence boost. It makes me feel as though, even if he’s not the one, someone I find attractive will find me the same. I love that he feels comfortable and safe with me and while he moves slowly, and it drives me crazy it also drives me wild. Of course, the fact that he was so talkative this past week and bought presents is also a good sign.

But what if I’m reading it all wrong? What if he’s the type of person who can do this sort of stuff without attaching meaning to it? What if I’ve led him to believe that I am, too? What if he wakes up in the morning and regrets it? Then again, he could just be moving slow because of his inexperience. Perhaps he doesn’t know what he wants or he’s coming around slowly. If that’s the case, then would saying something scare him off?

Of course, I’m terrified to ask — again — and be rejected — again. I also don’t want that to lead to the end of cuddles and, now, kisses. And don’t I deserve to have this? Is it so awful if we are both using each other just a little bit? I don’t regret it afterward and I won’t. Can I just live with this confusion and potential hope until either it becomes something more or I find someone else? Are these just all the desperate justifications of a hopelessly lost girl?

Even if they are, can’t I just finally be young for a while?


So much for that.

May 1st, 2011

Unfortunately, the hot nerd isn’t into me. Fortunately, life goes on. I am sad but not heart broken. Frustrated and contemplative but not shattered. Ask me more, if you want.


Dear Hot Nerd,

April 24th, 2011

Or should I call you Tiger? Adorable geeky boy? All I know is that I want to call you mine.

There isn’t any way to say any of this without sounding like a lovestruck teenager. A little too naive. A little too hopeful. Completely overwhelmed. I don’t mind at all.

You see, I am crazy about you. Completely taken by you. Smitten. I cannot help but think about you, every waking and dreaming second. I cannot help but smile when we talk and even when we don’t. I can’t help but talk incessantly about you. I think, were you to ask me to marry you right now, I’d probably say “yes.” It’s foolish, I know; we barely know one another. Yet, I cannot help but adore everything that I know about you. You’re incredibly sweet and charming, funny and attractive, dorky in all the right ways. Your silliness permeates your every move while your level-headedness balances everything out. I know with every fiber of my being that not only would you make me laugh and smile but that you’d be there for me if I needed you and your sensitive nature could appreciate mine.

I want to be with you not because I need to but because I cannot ever imagine a time when life with you would not be enjoyable, when your laid back demeanor wouldn’t help to calm my frazzled nerves. So I write this all here, anonymously, because I cannot tell you yet. Coming on this strong, this early in the game, would surely scare you away and I know that people normally don’t work at the speed of a bullet train. I hope that pouring my heart out will help ease some of the frenzy that has built up in my mind but I know it’s futile–as soon as I start to think about future possibilities, my heart will go straight into overdrive again.

I can only hope you feel a fraction of the same.