Woman of Action

“You seem like a woman of action,” he said.  “Ah, yes!  You get it!  You are listening!  There will be no misunderstandings here.  Pumped!”

I took that statement as a compliment because if you really pay attention to the way I operate you get that if I am not down for something, I don’t ponder it.  I just don’t engage in it.  If I am interested in something, I want to get on with giving it a try so if I don’t like it, I am not pondering it further.  I am just getting on with the next idea.  Like trying snowboarding at age 37.  For 20 years I wanted to try it but I was too fat and had bad knees.  At 37, I wasn’t too fat anymore so I booked a weekend in Vermont and signed up for a lesson.  I hated it within the first minute and the moment I realized how easily I could break my wrists or ass bone.  I also had to admit, I just didn’t like the sensation of sliding down something slippery on a slippery object such as fiberglass.  I thanked the trainer and walked off the hill.  I handed in my gear and went shopping at the country store instead where I could get free samples of cheese and chocolate.  Way happier with that.  No regrets.

If I like it, then I want to know so I can immediately start enjoying it and adding it to my life rotation of things which interest me or make me happy.  Bike riding.  A friend piqued my interest in the local bike trails.  I was on a bike within 2 days.  I bought my first bike 2 weeks later.  It sucked at first.  I had tons of cuts and bruises but I liked it so I kept at it.  You see my pictures from the trail nearly every weekend.

I loathe idle time in between the two decisions of love and hate.  Basically, he was confirming he would not dawdle with my time.  Keeper!

I am a woman of action.  It reminds me of the phrase comedian Eddie Izzard has always used to describe himself – “Action Transvestite.”  I hear it said with his British accent as though he is on stage with body movement included.  If you haven’t seen him  you must check him out.  I hate comedians but I love him.  He is smart and worldly.

Since I am not a Transvestite, I have been trying to ponder what my “action” is.  I decided to do a mash-up with a Roxane Gay title (“Bad Feminist”) and refer to myself as “Bad Action Feminist.”  Because when you mash up all my crazy thoughts, that’s basically what you get.

We talked music.  Since I was about to see Depeche Mode I was explaining how they have influenced my style over the years.  He said “Of course, it’s the Anton Corbijn art they use for photos and videos.”  Was this guy for real?  He knew that?  Anton Corbijn also did the Joshua Tree and a ton of work with U2 also.  There is a very distinct style and art to it that has moved me my entire life.   In fact, I have never mentioned it because I figure no one knows Corbijn-just like I have been finding it hard to find people who know Depeche Mode.  Yes, that’s a thing.

This date went so well, we were making plans for the next one.  We got quickly familiar on the sexting level.  Yes, I am admitting to this because it’s my truth.  I have to share all the details including the embarrassing ones and the ones you might not approve of.  It’s real and it’s what is out here in the modern dating world.  They all want to talk sex online and via text.  They want to tell you what they want to do to you; sometimes before even meeting you.  And they want to know what you want them to do to you…at least the more open minded, liberal, feminist ones.  I like them.  I like sex.  It’s the most important aspect of relationships to me.  By the way, men from New Hampshire never want to know what I want done to me which is just another reason I don’t date men from NH.  I think they just want to bang and hope I will skin whatever animal they killed earlier in the day.

He wanted to see me the next night.  I actually had other plans.  I was willing to meet later if that worked but he didn’t want to rush through things.  He wanted hours upon hours of sex and nudity.  Intrigued and interested I was by that.  He then asked about Friday.  I had Depeche Mode at Mohegan Sun.  “Too bad you didn’t by a ticket when you thought of it.  We could have gone together.”  And then the Cape.  But I told him I could make late Monday afternoon work so that was the plan.

He texted me Saturday and Sunday.  He wanted to get back into the sex talk.  He seemed a little annoyed that my head wasn’t in it so much those nights.  Getting back to being a woman of action…there is only so much I want to talk about it.  I would actually prefer to stop talking about it and just do it. I planned on doing it a Monday so I wasn’t thinking about it otherwise.  It was already part of the schedule at that point.

I was also at my parents’ house reading Eddie Izzard both times while trying to keep my mind off worrying about my dad’s pain levels and need for stronger medication.  It’s not unusual for my mom to knock on my door in the middle of the night to ask me to take care of the dog since they are headed to the emergency room.  Anytime I am in bed reading, I am anticipating that.  Also, I must admit to giving myself a bit of a hangover from Mohegan Sun.  I got a little excited about the drinking freedom and knowing I didn’t need to drive.  I was very, very tired and dehydrated and keeping very little food in my belly.  Not feeling real vampy on my end.  But relationships are about compromise so I gave a little bit of banter Sunday night so he could jerk off or do whatever he does with that information and promised I would be rested up for him to have his way with me Monday night.  He was happy with that response.

At 2:50 I texted him with my estimated time of arrival at home and a buffer time so I could shower.  5 should work.  No response.  I texted him again at 4:30 to remind him I had to work in the morning (he is on vacation so time is more infinite for him) and  was hoping it wouldn’t be too late of a night.  I sensed this was a blow off but was trying to talk myself out of pessimistic thinking because why would we have gotten this far and acknowledged I am a woman of action with little patience and allergies to time wasting?  I decided to take a shower and shave everything because I couldn’t remember which days I done certain shaving already.  So all of it got done at once just to be sure.  Man, I’d be a great date tonight.  Anyway,  Grabbed the good undergarments.  But I didn’t brush my teeth.  I would wait and see if he was on his way before I did that so I didn’t give up snacking on ranch wheat thins too soon.  Checked the phone again.  No response.

Decided to catch up on Real Housewives while I waited.    Nothing.  Decided to cook dinner for the week.  Nothing.  It was 8.  What happened?  And why did I rush myself off the beach for this guy?  Oh yeah, because he had mentioned my schedule would make it difficult for us to see each other so I felt like I needed to concede something up front as a show of good faith that I could eventually change some things around down the road should this continue.  Dick.

I know he has been back on the dating site and exactly at what times, including times he was blowing me off.  I know he has been back on my profile.  So what on earth happened?  A guy friend said he bets there is a wife or girlfriend.  I really didn’t get that sense.  We talked in depth about our feelings about how people should just get out of relationships or fix them in therapy if they are compelled to stray.  I really don’t think that was it.

Was he talking to other girls and weighing his options?  Maybe.  I was still talking to other guys and fully planned on seeing them for awhile regardless of what happened with this guy.  Performance anxiety?  I don’t know.  He seemed pretty certain of his prowess and our chemistry.  Did I play the game wrong when I said I was reading a book instead of lying and saying I was just thinking about him while touching myself?  I do suck at that.  One time a guy asked me what I was wearing and my response was “Like my real outfit or is this where I am supposed to make something up?”  So there’s that.  I can be a bit direct and sarcastic and not play along.  I guess I think I am a little too good to play that silly game with someone I barely know.  Get to know me better and I will do way better than that little game but I am not “blowing my load” all up front in the first 5 minutes.  I am no amateur or 25 year old girl.

I am not sad at all.  I am not mad either.  I am barely even confused and don’t even care all that much the reason.  I am supremely annoyed at the time wasting he knowingly acknowledged he wouldn’t fart around with and was serious about using every second he could to make the most of.  I mean really.  What kind of guy messes with the time and investment of a Bad Action Feminist?