This morning I had sex with Clark Kent.
Ok, he wasn’t really Clark Kent. Duh. I’m not delusional. But with his chiseled features, dark hair, and light blue eyes, all I could think was “Clark Kent”. He even wears glasses most of the time. Just like Superman’s alter ego.
And he’s 26 year old bartender. And I’m a 42 year old professionalwithagraduatedegreeinaseriousfield. I’m keeping that part anonymous.
He’s not my boyfriend. I’ve had sex with him once before and probably will again (unfortunately for me, he lives about an hour from me. Fortunately for me, he somehow thinks a 2+ hour round trip commute for sex with me is worth it). I don’t want him to be my boyfriend. Indeed, I don’t want a boyfriend or a husband. I like to think that someday I’ll be the older woman who was a great fuck who he thinks about fondly. And part of me is jealous of his future girlfriend because he really seems like a thoroughly nice guy. And he’s great in bed. As I understand it, he’s not sure he wants to remain in the area and doesn’t want to get entangled with someone who wants him to stay. Since I enjoy our time, but would be thrilled for him if moved somewhere that made him happier, it’s a good situation for both of us. Especially since the sex is pretty fucking great.
Tomorrow I’m supposed to meet the comedian. We were supposed to meet a few weeks ago and I didn’t hear anything from him the day before or the day of, so I deleted his texts, etc. These things happen when you meet people online. Sometimes they are assholes. But I was bored and swiping Tinder and he showed up, so I swiped right to see if we matched. We didn’t. NBD. But then the next day he messaged me. Apparently I had swiped right first and he found me. He apologized profusely (well, semi-profusely with plenty of tablet-typing typos), explaining that his phone had broken and he had no way of getting in touch with me. Since he is a moderately, kind of, sort of known comedian, I checked his twitter and the broken phone story checked out with his twitter posts. So we’ll see. We’re going to go to a sex shop for our first date (meeting at Starbucks first, of course, because who wants to be the creepy person looking to see if one’s date has just walked into the sex shop?). And yes, it’s likely that we’ll have sex after the sex shop. But not definite.
When I was waiting for Clark Kent to arrive, the Sailor emailed. I met the Sailor a month or so ago for one of those magical dates. Picnic that lead to making out that lead to hours of sex. The Sailor had circumnavigated the globe by himself, but isn’t some rich snob. Just a free spirit. I wasn’t sure if I’d hear from him again, but we’ve been in touch and are trying to figure out another time to get together when we’re both available.
It should be noted that I consider myself a pretty serious feminist and I’m not a lifelong slut (though, if I were, that would be fine too). I’ve been celibate at times for years on end. I’ll probably get into that in later posts. But this year I decided that I neither wanted a relationship nor celibacy. So I used the magic of the internet dating world to start meeting guys who wanted nothing serious, but would be into non-monogamous fuck buddies. Or Friends with Benefits for those who want to be a little less crass. (But, really, fuck buddies is a bit more accurate when fucking is more prominent than being friends, but, nonetheless, I do tend to use “FWBs” more than “fuck buddies” because, well, I feel like it sounds less transactional). Given that I hadn’t had sex in a couple years (oh geez, nearly 3???) when I put up the profile, I was nervous and didn’t know how I’d handle the approach. Somewhat surprisingly to me (shouldn’t have been surprising at all), I soon had more potentials than I could sort through. And, skipping ahead quite a bit, I have found that this approach of casual sex makes me happy. I feel in control and it’s fun. And I am seeing how damaging shame surrounding sex and those expectations are to all of us. I’m not saying that everyone needs to go fuck the next person they meet, but maybe if we chilled the fuck out about sex, we’d all be happier.
Anyway, I’m sure I’ll get into my musings on all this in later blog posts. But this is as good a place as any to start.