Wait

Wait

It’s 7PM and I’m sitting in my office waiting for a guy to call me. Is that pathetic or what? I should be out there living, feeling doing- not waiting. Not waiting by the phone in hopes that my plans will pan out.

I should be grabbing the bull by the horns and taking charge of my dating / social life. Instead, here I am, like in idiot sitting in my office waiting for a guy- and a married guy at that. I haven’t mentioned this guy before, He’s a work colleague. Today he asked me out in such a casual way that it could hardly classify as an event – let alone a date. I call him Phil Petrol...

I can hear Wanda now saying, “Get out of there. Go home. Go Swimming. Go look after your little doggie, but do not wait for this guy to call. Have you not learned anything from the BFE debacle?”

And yes, I’ve learned SO MUCH from the BFE thing. In fact, I'm pleased to share one of the I’ve learned. Perhaps this is common sense, and perhaps I should have probably already have known it, but last weekend I really realized it.

On Saturday evening I had net sex with a married guy. The DG, for those of you keeping track. I like the DG. I like him as a mate. I respect him as a former colleague. I like his attitude about life. I also fancy the pants off him! And the fact that he bares a more-than vague resemblance to the BFE probably helps as well. I frequent think about him tying me up and eating me out. He’s definitely someone I want in my bed. And we’ve fooled around before, but nothing major.

During our netsex session he was telling me how there are some positions and activities that he wants to try with me. I realize now that this is all talk; all fantasy. He doesn’t want to leave the safety net of his wife. To him, I’m like that one flavour of ice-cream at Baskin Robbins that you say, “One day I’m gonna try that” but ultimately you don’t because you don’t want to betray your favourite standby flavour. (Vanilla, most likely).

The thing is, I like him. I like him a lot. And to him, I’m a savoury sweet—once he’s had his taste, he’s had his fill and he’s gone. If we ever did end up having sex it would mean so much more to me in my head than it would to him. To him, I would be the girl he fucked.

I think that was my key mistake with the BFE. I liked him too much. I wanted him, and he wanted sex. Perhaps if we had a meeting of the minds things would have gone smoother. Of course I fooled myself to think that I was only in it for the sex – but as women can we really do that? Is it possible to ‘just fuck’ and feel nonchalant about it?

Men have a way of cutting off that emotion; that emotion that says, “You are a great fuck and you’re someone I could care for at some point” But I find it incredibly difficult. This is something that I am just realizing now.

It’s 7:50 now and my gut tells me to grab my Oyster card and hightail it out of here; that there is no good to come of this situation. I should go home now, while my dignity is in tact. Or I could possibly suffer the indignity of being stood up.

On the other hand I’ve already applied my lipstick. If I don’t go out, I just won’t know what I’m missing.

What would you do?