This guy I know apparently has a list of all of the people he’s ever slept with. I’m told it’s fairly long, though I have never seen it. I don’t know how common this is – I know that (based on stuff I’ve read) women tend to like to keep their numbers “low” and if they think they’re too high, will lie to make them “lower” to make them appear more virtuous. I don’t know how I feel about that. I can tell you there are nine in the list – I am thirty-one. I don’t know how that stacks up with anyone else’s numbers, but that’s mine. A list as follows (rapist not included):
- This dude whose kid I was babysitting – we got into a relationship for a little while, he has no nickname.
- GI Joe – dude who was convinced that he was going to be an astronaut by being in the KY National Guard and reading Physics for Dummies. He was also cheating on his wife – hence why I ended it (after I found out). FYI – he is not an astronaut now… per my Internet Data, he’s just another (now divorced) loser who probably sits around and wonders where he went wrong.
- Mr. Ex
- Interim Guy – the one I dated for a small period of time between Metalhead and October.
That leaves us at the 10 spot. I offered it, once, to Botboy who said he was not “just looking to get laid”. Neither am I – I never was. I misjudged him. I’ve apologized for that. Moving on.
Since I wrote “Let the Games Begin”, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I promised Botboy, back in January, that I would wait for him. I meant that then. I feel strange about breaking that promise now – but I’ve opened the door. I can always shut it again, I realize that. But, considering I have no guarantees that he’ll want me when he is home again, I don’t want to do that. However, by the same token, a promise is a promise. It seems, in a way, unfair to him for me to open the door and start seeing a lot of other people when he does not have the option to get his chance, or his say. The playing field is not even.
Further, it’s not like I’ve ever had gratuitous sex. I fool around, sure, but it never leads to intercourse. Think mostly makeout sessions with heavy petting – a blow job or two on a rare occasion when I’m feeling generous. Though never a blow job without a makeout session. Protocol must be followed. At any rate, I’ve dated far more men than I’ve made out with. I’ve made out with far more men than I’ve been in a relationship with. And I’ve been in relationships with far more men than I’ve fucked. I don’t know if this makes sense to anyone except me… I guess it doesn’t have to. The point is, there are rules that I have for these things – they make sense to me, and I don’t often break them.
So, while I’m not “waiting” per se – while my profiles are still up, and while I’m leaving the door open for any who would like to try to come through, I’m still being inordinately picky. The truth is, like it or not, I have serious doubt whether anyone could ever, ever compete with Botboy. It’s funny I say that, since he and I have shared nothing more illicit than a couple of hugs in a parking lot. And he bit me. On the arm. While I was driving. Left teeth marks. I have photos. But it’s gotten no further than that, despite the fact that he and I were once in a relationship and despite the fact that I did, and do, love him. I guess maybe that’s why I still, despite everything, feel that I need to be fair.
I’ve left the door open, yes. I’m keeping an open mind (or as open as I can, considering how I feel). I think of it as a challenge); if someone can come in here and make me forget, which would be an inordinately difficult thing to do, then they deserve to stay on the table. But because I feel that I need to be fair, while I’m willing to entertain the possibility, I’m not being exclusive with anyone. No relationships. I’ll date, but I won’t be exclusive. At least, not right away. That thing about taking things “turtle-slowly” that I said to Bot – I think that needs to apply to everyone else, too. Because ultimately, I need to be sure.
And since there will be no exclusivity, there will be no sex either. Inherently you see the problem with this, right… I love sex. I love everything about sex. The lead-up, the foreplay, the teasing, the wrestling (yes, wrestling), the reveal of taking off the clothing and the smell of arousal. I love the penetration and the thrusting, the positioning, the varying speed and depth as positions change and as things grow more passionate. I love the sounds. And, of course, the orgasms. The many, many, most times unstopping orgasms that leave me on the ceiling afterward while my body finally rests, exhausted, between the sheets – disoriented and not even caring until I pull myself together long enough for a post-coital shower, emerging either ready for bed or ready to start the day (or ready to do it all again).
Now, granted, I could go out there right now, I could find a reasonably acceptable substitute. I could make him fall fairly quickly, I could get into something exclusive, and I could have all this sex. I could find one of the nine and go to bed with them as well, thereby keeping the number the same and staying well within the limitations of my agreement to “wait”. But I’m not doing that. One would be a violation of the earlier agreement. The other would be cheating (cheating as in cheating at the game, not cheating in a relationship, because I am not in one).
And so, here are the new rules:
The 10 spot is reserved for the one I am exclusive with next. No one gets it, period, condom or no condom (and there will be a condom) without an actual, exclusive, profiles down, (possibly even Facebook official – as much as I hate that site) relationship.
Until Bot is back, I will entertain the possibility of seeing others – if I find someone I want to see, I may go out with them, however I will refrain from becoming exclusive with them (taking it “turtle-slowly,” because that is what is necessary to be sure in the short term, and because it leaves the playing field more even in the long term). At thirty-one, I realize that my window is getting smaller. I can’t keep playing this “one at a time” hoping the one at a time will get me something steady. If dating is a numbers game, and really it is, then I have to play the numbers, knowing that if I do that, there’s a better chance of ONE of them becoming exclusive eventually. Anyway…
In the interim, there will be no sex with any of the nine. Thank god I have a vibrator – a weak substitute, but acceptable in the short term. (Nemesis, please don’t fail me now.)
When Botboy returns, if he wants to date me, I’ll date him. We will take things “turtle-slowly” as I’ve said – I want to be sure he is here for the long haul, that we can give each other what we need, and I want him to be sure that he is sure. In other words, I do not want my heart broken again. Or, at least, not without giving an actual relationship a “fair” shot. In person. When we can see each other regularly. Therefore, until he is sure, then we will be unexclusive. And there will be no sex.
I know I’ve said that rules were made to be broken in the past. I believe that in most cases. But not in this one. The rules are in place to preserve my sanity, my honor (whatever there is left of it). And despite what my friends say, they are in place to ensure that Botboy gets a chance if he wants one – a fair one… once he is local again and not busy saving the world.