Tag Archive | Why

Playa, Playa….

player-coach-love-pretty-quotes-Favim_com-582408

I did NOT create this picture, if I had, it would say “YOU’RE a player” not “your a player”….just sayin’

Let’s not fool ourselves. Every time anyone enters the dating arena, they will encounter the inevitable Playa’s. (I’m over all that, babe. I’m looking for the real thing now.) The two questions anyone who accepts a Playa as a potential date must ask themselves are simple. Do I have the self-confidence to deal with this man/woman? Do I feel like I will be able to sort through the canned lines and the real person, assuming there is one, beneath them?

I don’t fear the Playa’s of the world. Some people probably think, because I am honest about dating people with no commitment to anyone right now, I am a Playa. I would argue against that sort of assumption though. On the basis I am very upfront to potential dates, I don’t pretend my intentions are any different than they really are, and I am not hooking up with every guy who takes me out.

Of course, people have varying definitions of Playa’s, too. I mean, one girl’s Playa is another girl’s guy with a past. There is a difference, right? Or is there?

When I view them, I just see varying levels of Playa’s. I see the active Playa, one who is trying to score with a different person every night they go out, or more than one a night. I see the Pursuit Playa, chasing with vigor and then losing interest once the conquest is established. The Emotional Playa, wanting to gain the emotional dependence of their targets, before moving on. The Stealth Playa, the most dangerous, but also extremely rare. This is the Playa no one realizes is a Playa. No reputation precedes them, no canned or cheesy lines ever fall from their lips. They just blind side you.

The thing about me is, I don’t hate the Playa’s, or their game. I simply am bored by it. They don’t seem to realize, after hearing these things over and over, it just becomes tiresome. There is a place and time for every type of person. I can, and am, currently entertaining the notion of a Playa in the mix. I have no fear of them. I simply must be honest, though. The Playa is the least likely person for me to ever open myself up to. He would have to step up his game to a level most simply aren’t capable of managing.

We shall see. What type of Playa’s did I miss? Do all of us Think we can handle a Playa until we get caught up in one? Is there a little bit of Playa in everyone on the dating scene these days?

 

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Is Romance Simply a Dead Art?

Dead Flowers

 

There is no shortage of available men in my life right now. There is no shortage of available men in the world. There are sweet text messages sent randomly, dinners, ………ummm, yeah, that’s about it.

When did we stop encouraging, or at least hoping for real romance? Is a Facebook “Like” the new flower delivery? How does Edible Arrangements stay in business? Party planners. That is my assumption, anyway. I’ve been back on the dating scene for a while now. Dated guys who would consider themselves old-fashioned, new school, players, and everything in between. What do they not realize? There is little to no difference in any of them.

Yes, I am saying this with a very certain tone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I am giving up on romance. We have already established I am not settling. I am not trying to let the general lack of inspiration by the men I have met so far, deter me from our eventual Knight in Shining Armor.

I will find the one who surprises me. The one who wants me enough to work for it a little. The one who puts some thought into it. I’m a unique person, I will find the one who sees it, appreciates it, responds to it.

The thing is, romance is subjective. What one of us finds romantic, another finds unimaginative. If a man is going to romance me, or you, or his wife, or anyone, it should be tailored to her. One problem this presents us with  is, we, as the ones who wish to be romanced, have to open ourselves enough for a man/woman to feel confident in his knowledge and place with us.

We also should be proactive. Give to receive, etc. There is no social standard any more which says all of the romance should be initiated by one sex. We are capable of romancing, too. I happen to have set a standard for myself, but in today’s dating world, everyone gets to create their own version of normal.

What do you find to be romantic? When is the last time someone you dated made a romantic gesture? When is the last time you made a romantic move? How did it go?

Mi Colombiano Part One of Two

Jaime

I have started this post over a dozen times. Each one ending in deletion. I keep remembering something my friend Elly wrote a while back about honesty in writing. I keep asking myself, “Are you really ready to just lay it out there? Say it all? Because if not, you are doing your readers and yourself a disservice.”

This is the reason we are here. Him. Us. The absence of us. The end of what we both treasured, but neither of us maintained. The reason I am seeking romance on the open internet. The reason I have set new standards of what I can and cannot accept. The reason I evaluated my fault and accepted the things in myself needing to change in order to maintain a healthy, happy relationship.

He is also a member of The Cast, as even from thousands of miles away, he keeps popping in and out. I would love to tell you I am over him. I would love to tell you I don’t cry with every new email. I would love to tell you…..but fucking Elly keeps popping up in my brain…so I will tell you, as briefly as I can, why. If I am able to convey it, at least a portion of the Us there used to be, then you will understand.

I don’t prescribe to the “love at first sight” theory, and it wasn’t. It was attraction. Pure, exhilarating, heart-stopping attraction. He came looking for a phone charger and left two hours later with a new phone, complete with my number programmed in it. Two hours later, we were having a glass of wine and laughing together at a local eatery. I still have the pictures I taught him to send, after he insisted he wanted the first pictures he took on his new phone to be of the two of us.

He had been sent to Fort Knox by mistake and would be leaving three days later for Georgia. We spent as much time as my work schedule would allow until he left. His last words to me before he left were, “We Will see each other again. I will make sure of it.” (for added sexiness, he has a very thick Colombian accent, I’m talking , holy hotness accent!!)

Two days after he left, my phone rang while I was at work, it was him. Despite myself, I was excited to answer the call. “Hey sexy, guess what? I’m not supposed to be in Georgia. They have my orders all screwed up. I will be back at Knox permanently in two days.”

I don’t remember my response, but I remember being genuinely happy. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to see him a lot. And see him a lot, I did. We had dinner the night he returned……..and the next night, and the night after.

We got into a routine, dinner a few weeknights, then spend all weekend together. We laughed, talked, explored, experienced…….we were both very happy. We were also in a strange place. Neither of us ever mentioning where we were on the relationship scale. Were we? Weren’t we?

Over the next three months, this odd balance of perfection in moments, and suspicion and doubt in others, became our normal cycle. I was falling in love with him, but didn’t trust him. Worst of all, we didn’t talk about any of it. We just spent our time together enjoying each other’s company. That was something we were good at, enjoying each other. We spent countless hours talking……..subject matter wasn’t important, we just enjoyed talking to one another.

The intimacy between us was remarkable, not just on a physical level (which I promise, was fucking phenomenal) but also on a true, emotional level. Yet, nothing was ever uttered about us, as a couple. We were the definition of limbo.

He was leaving for 20 days in mid-December to go home to Colombia, spend Christmas with his daughter and see his mother, sister, etc.

The night before he left went all sideways and he left for the trip with us not even saying goodbye. The entire week leading up to the trip had gone very poorly. I really wasn’t sure we would continue to see one another when he returned. I was shocked by how incredibly sad this made me, but had the holiday to focus on and keep from going all crazy about it.

Then Christmas came and our family had some rough times hit. I made bad choices. I ran from my feelings for him, in his absence, and leaned on Sunday Morning for the support role. It was as much to prove to myself I didn’t need him as it was about anything else.

Then he returned, things were strained, but good when he first returned. Then there was a horrendously awkward moment where I was in the middle of telling Sunday Morning that mi Colombiano and I were seeing one another and he walked in, bringing me Starbucks. (because he did sweet little things like that, as an excuse to see me and a way to make my work days seem more bearable) There was an immediate tension between the two of them I didn’t understand, but it was palpable.

When he walked away, Sunday Morning shook his head, told me I was making a mistake, and walked away. The minute I got in the car after work, mi Colombiano asked me how I knew Sunday Morning. I told him part of the truth, we had been friends for a long time. “I know him.” was all he said in response.

That night, while we were lying in bed, he asked me to tell him something he didn’t know about himself. I thought for a moment and said, “You give me butterflies every single time you kiss me, still, after all of these months.”  He pulled me closer to him and told me he was glad. We were both very quiet for a few minutes, then he quietly said, “I want you to be just mine, can we do that? Do you want that?”  I kissed him and nodded, “Very much, I want that very much.” I’m not going to tell you what happened next, but you should be seriously fucking envious. 😉

Part one of two, Part two to be published tomorrow