I’ve always been prone to infatuation. I’m not talking about the kind that grows slowly over weeks and months, into a mature obsession. No, I’m talking about the childish, puppy-love-style crush that can overtake quickly, cruelly, and without warning.
Previously, it was a guy whom I will call Preston. Preston was older than me, an academic, and we shared a lot of the same interests. He was the first guy EVER with whom I had initiated contact (well, with semi-romantic intentions, anyway), and he responded favourably, at least in the beginning. He was much more experienced and knowledgeable about the whole spanking thing and had lived a few different versions of the lifestyle. He loved films, classical music, and the opera, just like I did. We had read many of the same books and really enjoyed discussing them. He seemed to be very traditional in terms of decorum, so I did my best to conduct myself as a lady, in spite of wanting to sext or skypeflirt my way into his loins, if not his heart. But it waned.
Like the stupid person that I sometimes am, I kept chasing, and his responses, while friendly, were ambivalent. Still, every time we Skyped, I felt a connection, and some flirting had even started taking place from his side, so I felt comfortable reciprocating. But the ambivalence prevailed; after making it clear that he had the time and money to come and see me, he was non-commital. What he didn’t know was that by this time, I’d lost hope; a woman almost 20 years younger, halfway across the globe was not what he was looking for. He “led me on” and I pretended to follow, whilst at the same time making a semi-fabulous profile on one of the ubiquitous dating sites we all know and hate. When he didn’t show up for Christmas, he apologised, presumably thinking I was disappointed. I confess that I was; in my heart of hearts I had hoped he’d surprise me with a visit, in spite of the fact that such a thing would have gone against his very nature. I wasn’t surprised and vowed not to ever invest emotionally again, at least before having met in person.
In the meantime, my online dating profile was attracting a LOT of attention. This surprised me, because I’m not particularly pretty, and I thought that the location would be a dealbreaker for sure, but I was getting a huge number of messages and had to filter my responses. One was from Jason. He contacted me in late December, during my week off from work. I looked at his profile and his questions, and I REALLY liked what I read. REALLY. Like, more than Preston.
No expectations, no disappointment.
Living by my new mantra, in spite of my new mantra, in time, I found myself seeking him out, wanting to speak with him, being drawn to him, staying emotionally unattached. But not really. Feelings suck. They creep up on you when you least expect it, and you start feeling that horrible attachment that can only end in extreme disappointment, at least if history has taught you anything at all.
Jason and I have been speaking almost daily on Skype. Sometimes we do the phone version and sometimes video. There are often text-chats in between. I usually enjoy speaking with him, and I think he enjoys speaking with me, but he is busy. I’m just finishing a month off of work, so soon, I will be busy as well. He’s much more emotionally tuned-in to himself, and has even been known to utter the “L-word”, although he was upset at the time and I don’t think he meant it. I have warned him that my heart is not a playground and he has responded in a way that makes me think he’d be more distraught if I stopped speaking to him than the other way around. He says he really really wants to connect with me. In fact, we’re in the process of making a plan to meet next time I have a chunk of time off, in summer. So WTF is the problem, Guavacita?
The problem is, I want more. Lately, talk is mostly about him. I want to talk about him, but about things that make him tick, things that make him laugh and smile, things that make him cum. I want to talk about me. Same ideas. When we discuss those things, I feel happy, fulfilled. But we seldom do. We talk about people he knows and parts of their lives. We talk about current events and history, which is fine, but the phone calls seem to be getting shorter and with me going back to work next week, I don’t see any serious improvements on the horizon. I’d really like more of a chance to get a sense of who this man IS before spending a week or two of my life with him. He told me he’d call (his) last night before bed. He did, after having dozed off, and we spoke for all of 3 minutes. I had really been looking forward to speaking with him, and he just suddenly cut me off, stating that he wanted to go to sleep. Now, I understand. I really do. But I’m disappointed and feel uncared-for and unlovable right now. And though I’m fighting the urge to “chase”, I feel myself giving in.
And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m PMSing, so I’m not sure how much of this is just me having crazy-woman needy-hormones that turn me into an ornery princess (I’m only needy for one out of every four weeks, but I usually more than make up for the other three during that time…) and how much of it is legit. Trouble is, it all feels sane at the time. Thoughts? Anyone?