Why buy when you can rent

I feel that, after my little rant about my ex, I should have a light and pithy entry about something fun. Unfortunately, I write what comes to mind and I've failed on that front.

This is all about the current short-term (who made it longer term) man in my life.

The Beginning:

I decided many moons ago, after having my heart tromped on by Mr. Unattainable (I'm sure I'll cover him someday soon), that the key for happiness in life was to rent not buy a man. The goal was to keep a man around for the pieces of my life that he was best equipped to meet (aka sex) and fill the validation section of my soul with friends who would always be there when I needed them.

So, my valiant goals in hand, I set out and got "the renter". I intentionally went to find a man who was not ready to get into anything resembling a relationship, the idea was to have a whole bunch of X-rated fun and lower my purity score at the same time. On that, I succeeded.

Initially, it went just according to plan. We exchanged a couple of emails via a blind (no last name) email account I had set up for dating and chose to meet. He was friendly, at the end of something, and not ready to start up with a new beginning, and seemed perfect.

It started out simply. I met him in a wine bar where we talked vaguely about our lives (no concrete details) and ended up with a little making out in the parking lot by my car (a little risque for me but nothing quite over the top). A cell phone call as I was leaving from there to meet friends for dinner (with a little time before to be spent reading a book while drinking a margarita), derailed those plans and I found myself chatting more in the cab of a rental pickup in a cinema parking lot. Suddenly my clothes where partially off and I was having sex in a shaded corner of the lot fogging up the windows.

Now, I'm not normally that forward. Nah, thats crap, I'm saying to sound less like a slut. I am actually amazingly easy for the right person. I'm impossible to get for the wrong person (and there are far more "wrong" than "right" men in this world for me). While I don't normally hop in the sack on the first date, the second is common and once I get past three he's probably been put in the category of "just friends". Also, to my credit (or possible detriment), I am completely serial in my dedication once my sleeping with them starts (I'm not wired parallel, one man at a time is it).

Oh my, only a few hours into it and I'm ating like a frisky teenager. The joy and happiness of feeling that way again.

Weeks of breaking new ground on what I was willing to do in the bedroom followed . Mailing sexy lingerie purchased and worn while in Paris, back to the states. Costumes, props and email recounts of my exploration through the Amsterdam red-light district (humm, I'll probably talk about all of those activities later).

It was all sex, sex, sex (with 30 - 60 minutes of attention at the end of each visit). Oh god, what a nice change. After years of feeling sexually unattractive followed a bunch of sexual losers who were fighting to make even a C grade in the sack, suddenly I had someone who could make my toes curl. Now I'm not saying he would work for anyone (we all have different tastes) but yep, he works for me.

I was on a sexual high.

The Middle

But as all good intentions fade in the end, this went a little askew. Time moved on and "r" (for relationship not the version with a capital R) activities began to leak into my simple straightforward interaction.

6 month come and gone, and the world has started to change. Texts migrated from "here is what I want to do with you" and moved to "How is your day going". He become more a topic of conversation the people to surround me. I admit to my myself that he's the nicest of the I've spent time with since I embraced the chains of singleness. Suddenly he has my real email address, all of my contact information (home phone too). He knows the names of my close friends.

Then we have the "maybe we should start to meet friends" discussion. Suddenly, I find myself at a Comedy club with the boy's from work, and dithering about what I should wear to go to a church action (me ??) . I come home from each event progressively more "squishy" inside.

But thats where it stops. It lingers in this purgatory state until now almost 11 months from when the first shot was fired. He's never managed to even attempt to meet one of my friends.

Work rears its ugly head and I am not longer always available (a mistake I made early on) and its effect (maybe its a control issue) show as little demands like what color my toe nail polish or an order (that I rejected) to find a woman for a threesome for his birthday (I may not be annoyed by what you are expecting to be perturbed about on that subject - but threesomes are for a different day). We manage a few out of bed events but that doesn't shake the growing feeling that I've moved past my want/need to avoid a tighter connection with men. I begin to find myself a little self-conscious about the fact that I don't come close to matching his younger, taller, A to B-Cup, natural redhead vision of his perfect woman.

The End ???? (or not)

So here I sit, stuck with a nice guy who is a blast in bed but isn't ready or willing to take this farther. Its also become clear that I'm accommodating to keep him around (but I'm not seeing similar changes on his side). I'm my heart I know its time to go on to the next stage but I haven't quite found the energy to end it. Giving up something I enjoy (the sex and company) for some nebulous man who may never be found does not appeal.

Damn.

So I have told him that I think I'm beginning to need more so it maybe time for me to do a little looking outside of what we have. He didn't try to stop me (but also didn't exit immediately out of my life) so dating again awaits.

Why am I here ?

I've been told my my hairdresser that my current dilemma is caused by the fact that I did not follow the rules. My excuse is that this was my first foray into the world of something close to an FWB's so I did not know the rules. These are the ones I was taught during a dye job:

• Have at least one spare man laying in wait so you won't take it personally if he doesn't call. It protects you from getting clingy and also means that you always have a way to get those needs met if he is busy.
  
• Keep it light (never discuss your life - just discuss sex), and if he starts to enter into your life push him back with "WTF this is sex not a relationship"
• Do not think of him as a nice guy or a not nice guy, he is there for a purpose. He is simply a giant vibrator who can think on his own.
  
• Never ever shift your schedule for him, he's the guy - he moves not you.
  
• Immediately throw him back when its time to be done.
  

I failed on putting these in to place and now I have the Coke lite of relationships.

Still, I'm going to start dating again (and much as I abhor spinning up that process) and who knows what the future will bring. Part of me is still hoping that he will step up his game a little, but that looks unlikely.

My advice, if you rent do not use me an example on how to manage it. If I attempt this again, I'm going to try to follow the rules.

The bitter end

At some point, after the shouting and crying and anger, if you still run in the same circles the inevitable thing happens, you meet the new girlfriend of your ex.

I wanted to be the first one to drop the bomb and show up with a sex toy hanging off my arm at some joint party, but after a string of losers who never made the "introduce to friends" cut and my current 10-month old renter (more on that later), I was the one sitting there single and being forced to be the better (abet more obviously lonely) person.

When you break up, you play that moment over and over again. In your mind you have just the right cutting comment to leave you feeling on top of the situation. Still, until you see him walk in, escorted by an aging blonde you don't know the final call on the whole drama until it has all played out and the credits are being run.

I had wondered since the day I signed the papers on the dotted line, how I would feel. The answer, ticked. I wasn't angry because he had found a new friend, I was annoyed that instead of being the adult and bringing her over to introduce me, he slunk with her over to the far corner of the picnic and hid away like I was a potential problem when I have never been less that politically correct in situations like these.

My first gut reaction was to counter with completely ignoring their existence until I left, however a friend (playing on my better nature) encouraged me to be the more enlightened soul so I found myself setting across from the replacement. I'll admit that alcohol played a position in the introduction, because without a little bit of lubrication I'm not sure I could have handled the process of ponying up to a picnic table and introducing myself.

After some idle chit chat with them, I felt calmer - realizing that while she may be the person he had chosen after abandoning our marriage (long before I ultimately gave in and ended it), I was not feeling like I had not made the grade. She was reasonable (as far as I can tell) and seemed nice enough. She was, I'll admit, thinner but I am significantly more vibrant in a sort of explosive way. No matter how I played it, I was just not feeling like I didn't measure up and was easy to upgrade to a newer and better edition.

To be honest, I had wanted him to crawl through the muck of a series of poisoned relationships before understanding how badly he screwed up, groveled to me and I kicked his butt into the far corner of the room and walked away smirking. I guess I'll make do with the fact that it all felt "ok" overall although a bit weird.

I didn't feel jealous of her, I didn't feel happy for him (he destroyed my feelings for him years ago), I just felt relieved that the moment of meeting "the other" was done.

But on the fun side, next week "speed dating" which should bring tons of stories.

And so it begins

I'm not 100% sure why I'm sitting here typing words on a page other than the fact that a close friend told me that I should make all my trials and tribulations in the world of dating public so everyone can share my pain.

The truth is, its not really painful, it is more horribly amusing in the manner of sight gag comedy movie (think airplane). After all, if you can't laugh at yourself, you will never survive it.

Now - its entirely possible that this blog will hide in the giant ether and remain unread by any one other than me. Still, in a few years when I look back I'll have a historical account of all the joy that has passed.

I should provide a bit of background on me ...

I'm over 40, overweight and single. Now I wear my age well so my face does not have the leather look of being road hard and put away wet. My excess weight leaves me a few sizes heavier than my perfect figure so I am not trying to emulate a super-tanker. And my singleness isn't a permanent condition, I'm a few years on the downhill coast from a 14 year marriage.

I've been back in the dating pool (after my long break) for a couple of years and prince charming has not made an appearance.

My friends always gush about how much I have going for me ... low maintenance, intelligent, fairly cheerful with a high paying job. Now they are supposed to do that, it is how that made it into the "friend" not "enemy" camp. And the reality is, on those fronts they are right. Unfortunately, for me dating is not like pushing my basket through a superstore of men and picking just the right one out for my future. To me, dating is closer to digging through the local landfill hoping to find a diamond ring.

Now before you think I'm about to enter the "oh poor me, Men don't appreciate me" part of the program, let me tell you I'm not really into focusing on all that negativity. Still, I'll cover the obvious whines ...

All they care about is looks:

Yes, men are drawn to shinny objects (and I'm more of a plastic rhinestone not a high end diamond). That's fine with me (well, maybe I've just accepted it). Anyway I know I'm a brain bigot on the dating front. People in glasshouses and all of that.

Also, being a high end stone is not enough. A close friend who I know is higher up the looks food chain than I am actually dates significantly less than I do. I'm not sure what it is ... attitude, willingness to give them at least one date, something else. Still its clear that looks are not all that matters.

All they care about is youth:

For a percentage of men this is true, but why would I want a man who thinks I'm well past my "sell by" date. Yuck


There are no good men out there:

I'm sure there are, after all there are good women.

When you are 20-ish, everyone around you is falling in and out of love and relationships. The churn creates for a lot single men around you at any given time. At 40, most men (and women) have sunk into stable relationships. Think about it, when you were young all your friends are single as you age they end up married. The percentage of available men decreases with age, so your chance of running into a good one is lower.

I'm incomplete because I don't have a man:

I will admit that in the first year of being single (I'm divorced 2 and separated 3) I fell into the muck of that thought process. All my friends were part of a couple and here I was the 3rd (or 5th or 7th) wheel. PHOOEY. I have an intact self esteem, I have friends to fulfill my need to socialize, I have dogs to sit next to me on the couch while I watch TV and most importantly I have batteries to take me through the long rough patches.

Yes, a good guy around would be nice but its not critical to my life. Anyway, this way I don't have any of those horrible fights over the remotes when you each have competing shows on the television.

Now that I've laid the groundwork, I'm going to call it a night. Next, it might be time to talk about the current renter (or maybe Speed dating which is my next foray - I don't expect to meet the perfect man there but I should end up with great stories. Its a win/win either way).