by Ms. Jennifer 

It’s 3:36 am.  I woke up to the sound of piss.  Yes, piss.  I know the sound now of it hitting the floor.  I’ve tried screaming at my dad to no avail, shaming him with “even a dog doesn’t piss on the floor,” but he doesn’t remember (either pissing on the floor or me screaming at him)…there is nothing I can do but get up and mop the floor.  Does the body end up being nothing more than shit, piss and phlegm?  This both depresses the shit out of me and motivates the piss out of me.  

Then I can’t sleep and just to torture myself more I start thinking about my ex.   Any relationship that ends is painful, but the grief is complicated when there’s betrayal.  It wasn’t just that he forgot to tell me he got on Tinder, it was he met her and replaced me and once that was done, and only then, did he tell me on the phone (the day before my birthday when he was to visit). This is the same guy who doesn’t throw out his old t-shirts.  

Why is this shit swimming in my head, I want to talk to Jose who I saw last night.  Our dates are sexy and fun, but… I’m feeling his push/pull –wanting to fuck my brains off and also working 14-hour days making him too busy to be available.  

Today he texted me that he’s running late.  We were to meet at a mediation event and I’m not sure, but there’s a good possibility, that this is a pattern, but I refuse to be put in the position of being the nagging girlfriend.   I’m torn –I appreciate his hyper responsibilities and commitment to his job, but I also see who his mistress is and do not want to compete with her.   

A few months ago, I met my replacement.  She’s got tits and wears large red glasses.  She knew all the right things to say exactly what my ex wanted to hear (like I’m his “primary partner”), but they are fucking like rabbits, while I can’t remember the last time we did and she’s cool with his new fuck buddy while I’m, once again, clueless.   She captured him by being totally okay with his need to fuck any one he wants to.   Check mate.

Meanwhile, I’ve met Terry who (despite the geographic distance) seems more available, but something about him remains me of a politician (and he’s a political lobbyist) so it makes sense that he’s used to being “on,” but it makes him a cheerleader (I get the thumb up sign a couple times on our date) rather than someone I want to fuck.  Still he’s searching for more and I like that.  I’m trying to remember if my chemistry with Jose was instant (?).  There are times when I’ve met people online and it should have worked (perfect on paper), but it didn’t and times when it’s didn’t work, couldn’t work.  Do we always know right away or is this just part of the new “swipe culture” where we “swipe before the first fart.”

I’ve been on a lot of first dates and typically I don’t hear back. When I told that to someone and he asked why I thought that was the case…. I told him to ask my psychiatrist (lol) and never heard back from him!  How the fuck do I know why.  Clearly they don’t find me hot, but I’m too old to be anything other than myself.   The truth is you just have to keep putting yourself out there over and over again.   

I find the online dating experience a bit manic-depressive.   It’s exciting and depressing as shit.  I’ve been online long enough that I’m starting to recognize the old timers and even a couple of my “ex’s.”   Well, that sounds a bit dramatic one of them turned out to be an alcoholic who I wouldn’t get involved with and the other one, who’s in recovery, I saw online tonight.  I think he dumped me because he thought I didn’t know how to give a blow job, but I had just had a tooth pulled and couldn’t really open my mouth… honestly I know how to worship and adore a cock.  Of course, he came up with another reason something about me “making up my own reality” and I told him he should meet my dad who last night talked about being on the “high seas” and seems to think he’s in someone else’s war.  

Anyway, I was going to tell you about my last phone sex session with Jose, but my dad keeps calling out, LOUDLY, “one more time,” take him to the bathroom again “one more time.”   Do you know how many times this guy thinks he needs to shit?   It’s surreal and if I don’t start laughing hysterically I’m going to go over and suffocated him with his fluffy pillow.  And this “one more time” is AFTER he’s already pissed all over my floor.   

What can I do except accept the insanity?   I mean if my threats to throw him in a nursing home don’t stop his incessant pissing and praying, nothing will.   My favorite is when he prays to “the lord” and says “thank you lord,” and I want to scream, “fuck the lord, thank me!”  I’m the one cleaning up the piss, “fucking Jesus ain’t here, dude.”

Shit, let’s get back to phone sex, shall we?  This is becoming a pattern with Jose to do some heavy petty in his huge truck, but then I have to get back to relieve the sitter who lets me know my dad’s being difficult. 

I’m barely in the door when I hear my phone.   Jose is greedy and hungry.   He wants photos.

I tell him my pussy is shy.

“Your pussy is perfect” (he’s had a small sampling in the truck). 

“Really, my pussy has always been a mystery to me.  I don’t cum (unless it’s with my girlfriend) and I’ve always felt rather inadequate about that.   I always felt my tits were too small (and when I was a teenager spent my allowance, or wait, did I get an allowance, I think I stole the money from my mom’s purse) for some cream that was guaranteed to make my tits grow.  The only thing that worked was getting older and now I like my tits (and I informed Jose that the girls are sluts) anyway let’s not talk about my tits, just suck on the girls, please.

Jose offers a close up.

“Wow.”

“You have a beautiful cock.”

“Objects may appear larger on camera.”

“Lol”

“When I see that photo I want to do something with it suck it or fuck it.”

“Yeah, both.”

“I want to suck it… lick it.”

“Do you want it?”

“Kiss it”

“Play with it”

“Tease it.”

“Yes.”

“Rub it on my body?”

“It’s hard now.”

“Dude, I can see that even without my glasses on.”

“Show me your pussy”

“You don’t want to wait?”

“No.”

“I kinda figured you might say that like with a 100% certainty….lol”

Show me those lips becomes his mantra….

But I feel naked (duh)…. I mean really exposed.  First, I’m not certain of my pussy’s beauty and, if that’s true, how can I believe Jose will find it beautiful?   

I stall. “You have to wait.  I have given you enough.”

“I want to see.  Oh, you’ll make me cum.”

“Show me more, I demand,” in response.  

“Open those lips.”

“You bossy son of a bitch.  lol”

“Show your body with that hard cock.”  Not surprisingly this is not a problem for Jose.   Most men don’t have this problem.

“Holy shit, I need a bigger mouth.”

“Has anyone else told you your persistent?”

“You have.”

“I just took a picture of my foot. I can’t find my pussy.”

Suddenly I get a text from a Secret Admirer, well, he’s not so secretive, but we haven’t met in person.  He’s my confidant.

My SA writes, “hope it all turns out well” in response to my earlier text about my love life.   

“I’m having phone sex right now,” I reply. “He wants to see my pussy.”

“Go for it…wait. You and Jose or Terry or who are we talking about?”

lol   Neither of us can keep up with my latest.  And my SA does some pussy therapy on me.   “Some pussy photos can be beautiful.”   

“This is my first real ménage a trois  sexing,” I respond. 

That all happened before my 3:00 am wake up call.   

Crazy, huh, but this is my life.   Letting go of the past (which has been extremely difficult) and wondering about my future alternating between being excited and afraid.

Jose told me at dinner he’s afraid of commitment and I can see that, but I won’t commit to anyone whose has a mistress—at least not fully.  I’m not saying that’s wrong or unworkable, but they will get the same level of commitment back.  I’m not sure anymore what I want– except that.   If they are fucking around, I’m fucking around.   Maybe I simply need multiple partners so I never get to obsessed with any one and things get so out of balance as they were with my ex.  But I won’t fully commit to someone who’s addicted to sex, or their job, or alcohol, or anything else for that matter. Phone sex, yes, but a total commitment, no.  

After our hot sexing no word from Jose for a week.  And I feel something like shame like I shouldn’t have exposed myself, like I have to be sexy and fun and I can’t be sexy and fun.  During our last conversation he told me “he didn’t like it our last conversation because too much was expected of him?   I told him, “sometimes I want to know where I’m going when I have no idea where I’m going.”

But truthfully the only real expectation I had was to spend more time together, but it’s been a week and he told me he would be in touch once he got back over the weekend.     I like Jose, but he’s “afraid of commitment” and even my reassurance that all I want to do get to know him better has produce a big blank.  I don’t get it when it’s mutual why someone backs off, but then I don’t get to know.  Time will tell with Jose, but it’s not looking so good.    Meanwhile, I’m back online.