I’ve lost a lot of weight since all of these life changes began. And with that I’ve lost inches. In fact, when I met MyDude in December 2016 I was in a size 11. I’m now in a size 3. Of course, the primary cause of this crazy shrinkage is stress. But also because I’ve been weening myself off of my medications1. So, I’m shrinking and that’s supposed to be a good thing.
Well, at one point not long before we finally broke up for good, MyDude decided to joke that I’m “No-booty Jen”. I wasn’t amused at the time, but decided to see if I could fix that. I did squats every day until the day he drove off. Then I stopped. Fuck it. What was the point? I had bigger worries on my mind than the fact that my ass wasn’t up to par. Blech.
Then I met this other guy recently. He’s the same one I wasn’t feeling. But I decided to answer his call one more time. Just to see if I was being an asshole because of the walls that I’d thrown up after MyDude’s departure. I mean, it’s possible, right? Plus I was bored and missing assface. I do stupid shit when I’m bored and missing him. Maybe a rebound would be ok. Just to take the edge off.
So, I go out with this guy one more time. We’re having a good convo and some laughter. I’m reserved because I’m looking for something to prove myself wrong (or right). I was observing him and trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Ultimately, I gave in and did what I wanted to do. Should I have? Doesn’t matter. I do what I want and I wanted to do it then. We’d had a conversation about not being friends with benefits. He didn’t want that, he said. I don’t want that, I said. Good. It was agreed. Except maybe I wasn’t as serious as I should’ve been. I have no idea what I want right now and have no idea if I’ll ever be able to open up enough to let someone close again. I’m basically going with the flow. But it gets funny.
This one isn’t going to win any beauty awards. He’s a lot shorter than MyDude2 and a lot less strong. I noticed that right away. I’ve got my preferences, people. And he’s a lot plumper in the mid-region. I don’t really care about that, but this guy won’t be in a magazine at any point in time. He’s maybe just above average. I was initially interested in him because of his musical tastes and his sense of humor. That other shit really won’t make much of a difference if I decide to take another lover at any time. So, anyway…
This guy slaps my backside and remarks “Man, you have no butt.” It was a blaring alarm in my head. Body shaming right then? It didn’t make a lot of sense to me as he seemed to like my body well enough 10 minutes prior. I felt myself cut him off right then. Done, dude. I refrained from mentioning his paunch or his hairline or how he doesn’t stack up to a certain someone I might still miss. No reason to do a tit for tat. I already knew what I was going to do. No more chances. He was lucky that I even gave in to my base urges with him. Holy shitballs, was he lucky. Now, I already know that I don’t possess that juicy booty that is all the rage. I’ve accepted that. I figured men who were attracted to me would see that right away and decide if my intelligence, wit and pretty face were worth the effort. I wasn’t expecting all of that nonsense after the fact. Time to go home. I give him the look and out the door I go.
So, that’s it for him for sure. He knew it, too. It must’ve been the look on my face. The gods know I can’t hide my emotions for anything. And, apparently, I have a very unique look when I’m agitated. He’d have seen that whether the words came out of my mouth or not. He hasn’t tried to contact me at all since then. I was wondering if he was trying to ghost on me for a split second3 and then decided I was probably ghosting too. I made no effort to text him either. I’m getting used to this shit at this point.
I’m 44 years old now. I’ve had 3 children and just lost a shit ton of weight. I don’t have a 24 year-old’s body. I can’t afford to pay for the work required to get that body back. And, quite frankly, I’m damned fine just the way I am. No booty? Pfft. Everything works like it should and I’m amazing company. Ok, I used to be amazing company. I may not be so much anymore. MyDude shattered me and I’m pretty sure I’ll be fucked up for a while. Either way, I found a reason to back off without guilt and took it.
I told my counselor I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I have no idea how to date properly and I sure as shit don’t know how to find a good man. I started out with good intentions. My vegan back in November was a good guy and he never saw my crazy side. But he wasn’t into it and I was ultimately fine with that. Then I met MyDude and all the progress I’ve made while married to TheMan went straight the fuck out the window. “Bye! Begone, sanity, I have no use for you!” I let MyDude chase me then I took up the chasing. And we both threw grenades on anything good that might have happened. I told my counselor I don’t want to be that open anymore – ever. I never want to have that connection with anyone ever again. I felt that man in my soul and still had no idea how to deal with any of those emotions. “Be trusting. Be open. Be honest.” None of that shit worked. None of it ever does. So what the fuck is the point?
I think I traumatized him. He started saying something about looking inside myself and I stopped him. “You can tell me to talk myself out of this all you want. But the reality is, sir, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing and talking to myself has only hurt me. How the fuck do I turn off my brain?”((I’m a serious over-thinker. I will think myself into heartbreak lickety split.)) I will honestly say that I’ve been lonely for a lot of years and I’m sick of it. And after MyDude… I’m sick of risking anything personal for a few minutes of gratitude here and there. Sex is easy. Sex is animalistic and I can completely remove my emotions from it. What I can’t do is figure out how to fix whatever it is I’m doing wrong. What did he tell me then?
“Sit with your feelings for a week. Let them all come to the surface. Then when the time has passed just move on.”
I’m going to try it. But I can pretty much guarantee he was pulling shit out of his ass at that point. The guy is awesome and I really feel comfortable with him. I just don’t think he can quite get a grip on me. I am grateful for him, though. I’m back to writing and that’s a big step. I let it alone for so long. It’s a great relief valve. I’m just still doing shit wrong. “Sure, guy who obviously just wants sex, let’s play that game and pretend it’s not a game at all. Dance, monkey, dance! How’s that feel?” My poor counselor…
What’s that got to do with the original topic? Nothing at all. Except the body shaming thing really pissed me off. I’ve come to the decision that it’s one chance and no more. Done with that. Peace out, buttercup, moving on. This is going to be a long summer.
I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.