Sex and the City and China

Last night, three of us had girls night. We ate enchiladas on my fine china. What else would we do for an evening of Sex and the City? It's what Charlotte would do - if she approved of the china pattern at least. We were going to have Cosmopolitans too but none of us was in the mood to drink.

But we were in the mood for the fabulous series. One of the girls has never seen the show so we're watching from the very beginning.

As many times as I've watch Sex and the City, each episode and each time is relevant for a new reason. It's relevant for me or someone else. In the four episodes we watched last night, one had a scene where Carrie ran into an ex with his husband. They asked if she would donate eggs for their baby. My friend had just that morning donated eggs. 

Another friend is following a painful and common theme in the series. She keeps going back to her ex to repeat what was never a good relationship. 

Then there's me. As a newly single girl, I can relate to almost every scenario (well, except for some of the girls' unfortunate wardrobe choices). I've felt the single girl discrimination- pity and wives looking at me as a threat. But mostly my couple friends are so nice in letting me tag along. 

Honestly some of my experiences would have shocked even the Sex and the City girls. I can usually entertain my couple friends with my escapades, and I keep adding new stories.

We're about halfway through season one and I love the shows as much or more today than the first time I watched them on HBO. 

Love to the single girls,

Addison

Making a little mark

I did something last week I had thought carefully about for more than a year. I had my belly button pierced.

My mother would cringe if she knew. Even though I wore earrings every day since middle school, she didn't let me pierce my ears until I was 18.  Some of my high school and college friends would raise their eyebrows. Others who knew me better would just shake their head and laugh. My clients - well, they'll just never know.

My friend's boyfriend asked me what made me decide to do it. I hadn't really put it into words until then. I told him I just wanted to. I like the look, and my belly's decent enough to pull it off. My experience in LA last month when some women at a party gave me those shocked looks when they could see my belly button helped push me to do it.  

The experience wasn't bad at all, but it hurt more than I expected. I anticipated that sharp little prick like a shot at the doctor's office or when the piercing gun pokes through your earlobe. This was more. It almost brought tears to my eyes, but having my friend with me made it much easier. And I still laugh about the woman's bad breath who did the piercing. She did a good job as far as I know, but at the time, it was a needed distraction. She thought I was feeling faint when I stepped away from her afterwards. Really, I was just trying to put a little distance between us.

Some men think a naval ring is sexy, and any man who doesn't probably wouldn't like me anyway. But I didn't do it to be sexy for anyone. I did it for me and because I wanted to.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

Forgiveness

Why do some people have such a hard time forgiving themselves?

The nice guy I met a few weeks ago and had the amazing three-day first date with did something he shouldn't have. Last week he ran into bad luck and got caught. While what happened was a little irresponsible, it wasn't that horrible. It cost him a little money, and I'm sure he'll never do it again. It's not the end of the world.

He texted he was too embarrassed to tell me what happened. But now I know, and he has no idea I know.

He's also been silent since Friday night. 

In the last week, we've gone from him telling me he was looking forward to outdoing our first date on our second and he would call me tomorrow to make plans for his visit that weekend - to nothing. The last I heard from him was this text, "Yes. I don't use my head sometimes. Call me when you get free."

I replied soon after. "We're human. Don't beat yourself up. You'll be okay. Call you in morning?"

My friend was sleeping off jet lag so I didn't want to wake her. I  did call him the next day and got voicemail. I texted three times since and haven't heard back.

I hope he knows I can move beyond a dumb little mistake. We all make them. I've made (and written about) many. Judging would be pointless. We learn and move on. 

He's a good man who needs to forgive himself and move on.

Love to the single girls,

Addison

People should come with warning labels

Hair pulling and a loud fart was how my date ended last night. It was my first date with a man I met a few weeks ago. It's the one I wrote about in Lucy's Still in the Closet and I Keep Meeting Men.

He seemed nice enough the night we met. Good conversation. Our marketing careers and Greek heritage in common. Then he called me the next week to meet for a drink, but I was halfway across the country and couldn't. So we connected again last week and made plans to go to my favorite Greek restaurant. He even joined with my group of friends Friday night and we had a couple of drinks at the pub. He blended pretty well; got along with the gang okay and even bought my drink.

Then we had our Sunday night date. He picked me up and dinner was nice. He was agreeable and seemed pretty easy going. Toward the end of dinner though, I realized we had spent the majority of the last two hours talking about him. He told me about growing up in Puerto Rico, living in The Bronx in college and some of his travel adventures. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't bored. They were interesting stories, but all about him just the same. I felt like a journalist doing an interview, and he showed little interest in knowing anything about me.

The first clue was right after he picked me up. We drove past the fire station and saw what I thought was a moving 9/11 display they had put up to memorialize the day. I asked him where he was on 9/11. He told me but didn't even ask the same of me. I know when his birthday is, which gym he's going to join, about his parents and his college athletic adventures.

He knows almost nothing about me. But I did drink pretty close to a full bottle of wine.

I also asked if he has kids (his answer was "not that I know of"), and tried to get out of him whether he'd been married or had long-term relationships.

After dinner, we went by his place to put his takeout food in his fridge. We ended up staying to watch the last quarter of the Sunday night football game. It was a nice place; well decorated but still moving in a bit.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked when his mouth was about two inches away from mine. I let him. The first kiss was gentle. Not bad.

Then his hands went everywhere. He was rubbing my belly just rough enough that I had to mention something I had hoped would never come up. I had just had my belly button pierced and it was tender when he touched it. (blog to come on that)

"Let me see," he said.

Just as I was saying, "I can't, I'm wearing a dress," he pulled my dress up. I yanked it back down as fast as I could. He kissed me again. This time it wasn't gentle. In fact, he almost bit my face off - so much I just noticed a couple of bruises on my bottom lip. And he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled. He didn't pull it in that sexy way. It was the let-the-fuck-go-of-my-hair way.

"Ouch, that hurt," I said.

He let go but didn't respond. But then he asked another question.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?"

"No." Not that I would've had sex with him on a first date, but by that point, I didn't even want to kiss him.

"Would you have the nerve to ask me the same question?"

"No," I answered. "If I wanted to 'sleep' with you, I wouldn't ask. I just would." I don't think he knew how to respond.

That was my cue to grab my purse and leave. So I did, but he insisted on walking me home after he went to the bathroom. That's when the ginormous fart happened. I'd had to have been totally deaf to not hear through the bathroom door it in the quiet place.

He walked me the three blocks to my building and to my door. We couldn't walk fast enough. Then he left.

I had seen some people I knew at the pub when we walked by, so I gave him a few minutes head start and walked over there. I was too wound up to go to bed, so I sucked down two vodka cranberry cocktails and we laughed like crazy about the night's experiences. They all thought he was out of line. This morning I regretted those two drinks after all of the wine when the floor was still moving at noon after coffee, a little food and a shower.

There is good news. He's not a narcissist. He still knows little about me except the color of my panties. And I'm not going out with him again.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

I know I like a guy when . . .

My three-day first date ended yesterday, and it was a blast. I know I like him. Really. And it's a different kind of like than I've felt before. I'm not just curious what it would be like to have sex with him. I'm not in need of companionship, nor am I desperate to date someone. And I know I'm not bored.

1. This one is simple. It's logistics and time. I drove three hours to see him. The last few weeks have been pure chaos and I really didn't have time for the trip, but I needed it. We needed it. After we met a couple of weeks ago, there were so many sparks that we just had to see each other again, and it needed to be soon. With his schedule and mine, we didn't know when the next chance would be, so we just did it.

2. He made me feel welcome, in the most warm and unselfish way. From the moment I arrived, he made sure I had what I needed. He met me at the gate to get my car in then moved his truck to make a closer spot for my car, and his place was clean and very neat. And best of all, he never said anything that seemed like my visit was a bother or inconvenient for him. Even though he told me numerous times, he didn't have to - I knew he sincerely wanted me there.

3. I had just as much fun sitting on his sofa talking as I did when we were out at a restaurant. And he planned two amazing evenings out - one watching the sun set over the lake and the other exploring the cool downtown area of the city. We never tripped on each other's words nor did we have a lull in conversation. We talked about our work, hobbies, passions, life - even religion and politics. We're right there in sync on it all. The last night we bought some groceries and cooked in. I played bartender (not very well) while he cooked. We truly enjoyed each other's company.

4.  He never pushed me to do anything. From what we did in the evening to where I would sleep, he was cool with anything. I didn't know yet if I'd be ready to share his bed on the first night. It all goes back to being afraid of feeling vulnerable. He has such amazing sex appeal that I couldn't wait to explore his body. While I hope we can stretch those intimate moments to last longer and have even more of them, he was a caring and passionate lover. Our bodies and rhythms fit, and I want more.

5. With all of the conversation and intimacy, I was comfortable and not vulnerable. I don't often have a difficult time opening up to someone, but sometimes I regret it. I feel vulnerable. Like I've shared too much. Like they might use it against me. He was never like that. Communication is important to him, and we talked about how we felt about our visit - what we expected and how we felt as the three-day first date was getting close to ending.

6. Now that I've been home for a day, I miss him but I don't feel frantic. Before I left, he shared that he really hoped I would like him but wasn't sure I would make the trip up. I told him indeed did like him - his sex appeal, his friendly, fun nature, and the fact that he's just so nice. I told him more than once that he was spoiling me - I don't know how to act around the nice ones. We agreed that we looked forward to getting to know each other even better.

And I hope we do. Soon.

Love to the single girls,
Addison