Divorce, Single Parenting, Dating, Sex, & Self-Recovery

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Sex at 110 Miles Per Hour: Red Flags or Red Flashing Lights?

There is nothing like new love to get your motor racing. As I’ve stated repeatedly, I’m not into casual sex. I’m looking for the next long-term relationship (LTR). And when the woman came racing into my OK Cupid profile and began asking difficult and enticing questions, I paid attention. My whole body paid attention.

Turns out she was the real deal. Her “sex” answers were all 100% honest, and not just flirty or racy. She asked me a question during our first “coffee date” that had the blood rushing from my large head so quickly I thought I was going to pass out. And this was over migas, before we’d ever even kissed. She had the chemistry thing going with me even before we ever laid eyes on each other. And how fun it is to hear that the affection or affectation is real. Our imaginations run wild. And when the other persons’ imaginations run in parallel and sometimes even build wow and flutter into the mix, well, you’re on a hot track to something.

And this is different from any of my previous beginnings. I’d say the last one was close, but there is something more open about this woman that turns all my defenses off. I’m actually less nervous even as we lean into things much quicker than we’d even hoped. In your wildest dreams, you hope for magic, fire, flames, and sexual fireworks. And when all those things arrive, AND the relationship has deeper emotional legs than you recall in previous attempts at going long.

Wow.

Flutter.

Pause.

Race ahead.

There’s no stopping this momentum between us. No pullback from the accelerator pedal on the new BMW M-Sport wagon I purchased as an affirmation to my renewed vigor and success. (“The last car I’ll need in the next 15 years,” I say repeatedly as if to soothe myself round making such a big purchase.) But this relationship is a much bigger purchase. This is hook line and sinker, heartstrings to the max. This is the big kahuna and what… what could we possibly be thinking?

At this point, you still have to chalk it up to exuberance and honeymoonism. We’re hooked, we’re chemically addicted and high, we’re going for each other with every sense and sinew we can uncover. And just last night things got out of control.

It was a big evening. Some sort of spiritual full-moon was happening and we went to a potluck of soulful seekers. And we went as a couple in love. As a couple of seekers. As a couple. We went coupled. Wow. 10 days? GF #1 asked, “You’re talking about moving in together after two weeks?”

It’s a bit longer than that if you consider all the times we chatted online. All the phone conversations we had that ran into the wee hours of the night. Virtual kisses and flirts all over each other. We’ve been essentially staying together since we got together for the first time a couple Wednesdays ago. (Days and dates: I really don’t know, I can’t keep track, and I’m not really all that concerned about it.)

So we attended this very sensual and spiritual party together and grooved on the groove, danced with the colorful people, and bonded in public as lovers. As this was one of our first real “dates” it was a nice punch to the upward momentum we were already remarking to each other about. “Wow, this is amazing. Kinda scarey and fearless at the same time.”

We’d had both been seeking a mate. We’d each been doing our work on ourselves. And we’d each proclaimed our allegiance to Brené Brown’s BRAVING, before we began to fall deeply in love. (WAIT. BACK UP. WHAT DID I JUST SAY?)

Okay, we’re not saying that yet, but we are saying, “Actively falling…”

Both of our intentions are clear and both our arrows are pointed at the other’s heart. Yes, our hands are firmly gripping the other’s ass, but as expressed desire goes, we are both saying the same thing, the right thing. “I want you in a big way. And I’m prepared to make this relationship a priority in my life.”

As you may imagine, that’s already happened. I simply have not left her small town home since I was invited in. Fortunately, I have a virtual job at this point, so the driving back and forth between the big city and the small city has not had much of an impact on my work. I have brought a few bags over, parked them under the foot of her bed. And she’s invited me to stay. Not indefinitely. But with the intention that this is what we want. That WE are the WE we have been wanting to create.

How powerful to be looking at a woman and thinking, “Wow, this is the cutest woman I’ve ever been with.” And having your partner spontaneously reflecting back the exact same sentiment 30 minutes later. We’re on a collision course with LOVE or CRASH AND BURN. And of course, there’s a tension there. Of course, there is exhilaration and awe at the rush of the heady sex that is melting our souls together. (Even my language has gotten poetic rather than rational.)

And I’m driving back from the spiritual event last night, the moonroof is open, the music is pumping and she takes off her panties in the passenger seat of the beamer. It is a perfect moment. She squeals as I pat my hand gently on her belly and move ever-so-slowly lower. And I’m pushing the accelerator. And we’re pushing the accelerator. And she’s leaning into my hand, and I’m feeling butterflies in my stomach. As if we’re speeding towards a crash as if the car/relationship/sex/love thing has gotten out of control. And she moans, and the music shifts gears to a deeper, faster groove. And the full moon is raging. And my hand is numbing and tingling as she locks herself into the car seat with arms and legs at stiff attention. And it’s over. The moment crashes into bliss. The song ends. My hand relaxes and stays warm against her wetness. And we’ve just made love at 110 miles per hour on a back road in Texas.

And we’re in bed by 10:30 in a deeper spoon than I can ever recall feeling.

I know I’m going. I know I’m gone. I know what I’m doing. And I know I’ve already lost control. We both have let go of our expectations beyond NOW and HERE and WOW and FLUTTER. At this moment, we have arrived, in a state of love that we could not have anticipated or hoped for.

Are we deluded? Most certainly. Can this delusion last a lifetime? I’ve heard of such things. Are we jumping ahead rather than staying in the present moment? I don’t think so, but it’s hard not to imagine growing old and ever-more-sexy with this woman. This woman who stood in and said, “I think you should pay attention when someone shows up for you.”

She has shown up. She has delivered a sexual potency to both of us with her abandon and willingness. And I am more than along for the ride. We are both drivers and we are both passengers.

Today, Easter Sunday, we drove to the big city to meet my family. It was a well deserved joyous holiday moment. She stood in with my kids and my mom and sister too. And it was good. And as we dropped my daughter back at her mom’s house I asked, “Will you drive us back to your house, honey?” I’m still not calling it/her home, but in my mind, I arrived over a week ago.

Sincerely,

The Off Parent

@theoffparent

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The Yoga Girl Next Door; What Is An Erotic Ideal, And What Is Real?

What would you talk about with a yoga girl?

There I was leaning into her new red Prius, talking about PR and yoga and her plans. It was as if I had put my head into a spaceship and was looking at some Penthouse forum photo of “the yoga girl next door.” But there was nothing going on. She was a next door neighbor, and I was asking her about her work and her Prius.

I’m guessing she’s in the 20-years-younger range. Blonde. Stunning body in black tights. Raybans. Biggest smile you’ve ever seen. And what would I have done with her if she had been asking about coming over later? (She was not.)

I’ve been dating.

As I walked the long distance back to my car after the kiss, I was erect as a bar of iron, and wondering how — in my fkd up state — someone else could be attracted to me.

This is the first “relationship” I’ve been in since my divorce. The other two were both in the neighborhood of one week, and that’s not a relationship, that’s a fly by. The first one was the woman who slept with pit bulls. The second one had the prettiest smile you have ever seen, but she lived 80 miles away.

So I wouldn’t say I’m experienced. In fact, I would say I’m a newbie in the department of dating. And dating as an adult who’s about to cross into my 50’s, I have to say, things are very different than when I was last on the market. I’m different. The women are different. I have two kids and a schedule that imposes some initial absence regardless of how fast I want to go in terms of hanging out together.

Sure, I’ve got an OK Cupid profile. (Tried Match and eHarmony.) But I haven’t been workin it. And from the depths of my aloneness I wasn’t in any mood to be imagining or looking for companionship. In fact, I was flat out deluded about how far fked up I was.

Enter attractive 54 year-old woman on OKC that says, “Hey, why didn’t you respond to my last email?”

If warning bells are going off it’s only because she is IN TO ME too much. Or more than I have ever experienced. She was telling me I was “much more attractive” than my profile over our first drink together. And in the parking lot, as I walked her to her new convertible Mini, she held up before opening the car and half-kissed me. We still joke about who kissed who, but she HAD been dating a lot. And she was prone to “trying out the kiss” in the parking lot, even on the first date. I had not kissed any of my “dates.” You tell me…

And as I walked the long distance back to my car after the kiss, I was erect as a bar of iron, and wondering how — in my fkd up state — someone else could be attracted to me. Was that in itself a huge red flag?

OR… Did she see something in me that was solid and cute and funny, regardless of how I was feeling?

Three days later, we were kissing on my couch as a prelude to the trip upstairs, where she said as she was unbuttoning my pants, “You don’t know how long it’s been!”

Two months later… Well, I’ve driven the Mini quite a bit.

Am I looking for some erotic ideal that is more about masturbatory fantasy and trophy wives that parade around the nearby HEB in their yoga pants.

But there is something that I am not feeling, that I think I should. As we continue and she confirms repeatedly how much I fit her picture of a prime fit, I am not sure. I did not have the euphoria associated with passion. I don’t crave her. Her beautiful blue eyes and easy laugh are wonderful, but for some animal reason, I would not pick her out at a party as someone I wanted to get to know. She is attractive. She is a bit older than any of my previous relationships. She is completely crazy about me.

Am I out of my element? Am I looking for some erotic ideal that is more about masturbatory fantasy and trophy wives that parade around the nearby HEB in their yoga pants. (Don’t they have to work? Um… No, they don’t.)

So I have a woman who craves sex and time with me. She does not play games. She has told me from the beginning how delicious she thinks I am. She even told me, after a lengthy discussion about my previous relationship history, that she wanted to learn how to give me the best blow job ever. (WHAT?)

The yoga girl next door represents a college-age fantasy. I am not of college age. She is thin, beautiful, and I would assume, somewhat spiritual, being a yoga instructor and all. But she and I have nothing in common. Would I find things about her that fascinate me? Would she cook me a meal, come over to my house, and leave me with leftovers?

My experience, thus far in my life, says no. My experience, thus far in my life has never had someone so crazy about me. I feel almost guilty about not being able to return the level of excitement about her. I am trying. I am stretching. I am exploring everything with her, to see if the animal hotness grows. I mean, the truth is, I was depressed beyond measure. And NOTHING sounded good. I didn’t crave anything, not even ice cream. So how could I expect my senses to crave this available woman?

Sincerely,

The Off Parent

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