So here's my sad and pathetic tale: I now live in a pleasant, leafy corner of our nation's major city. It's rather like living in a small town. But from here it's not that far, even by bicycle, to almost anywhere in our great metropolis. It's the best of both worlds.
I'm 41. A young-looking 41. My "number" came to a halt at a respectable 20 women properly sexed at the age of 35. I haven't had sex in 6 years. It kind of snuck up on me. For most of those years I was working hard, working out, settling in, getting to know the city and my neighborhood better. Getting to know people. Only one real good bar up here, for example. Great place to meet all sorts.
So I was OK with nothing, at least for the first 4 years. I was never a player, so I had no great drive or skill to pick up girls. But this spring, a beautiful but rather crazy 36 year old woman - a young looking 36 - suddenly took a great liking to me. I was suddenly her "flavor of the month" to the extent that it ruffled some feathers amongst some of the more local and more powerful elements.
Oh we never had sex. Not really much if any fooling around at all. But we certainly looked like a new couple to everyone for a while. There was clearly a lot of mutual affection, admiration, and interest. But like I said, she's a little crazy. The hopped-up-on-goofballs type, with far more than her share of life-baggage. Also, OCD. Plus, despite her sexyness and forwardness, and sort of wicked charisma, really rather non-sexual. Despite a wild enough life, for example, at 36 she had only had sex with 10 men. Awfully low number. And she clearly has, amongst everything else, repression issues. Everyone knows that about her. Her last partner, as it were, was over a year ago, the local pick-up artist, a real genius of the game, and it took him a long time to succeed. She often gets nervous in company if sex comes up as a topic of conversation. Oh, and she can't STAND to hear people - anyone, male or female, compliment her obvious beauty/sexyness. She will deny that she has a beautiful body, and hates it really.
So anyway, I was suddenly a hit with her - she came to me, rather than vice versa. It was like the old days, when, not being a player, things happened at least often enough for me, quite naturally, and like sometimes in the old days, the girl came to me, I didn't chase the girl. We were joined at the hip there for a couple of months, in each others arms, living a too-chaste romance.
Oh there was drama, there was butthurt, there were events, there were incidents! There were third-party interests, ruffled feathers, powerful forces arrayed against me as the outsider. There were fights, there were tears. There was a certain infamous week, with events at either end proving to at least my satisfaction that I was "the good guy" in a certain conflict in the little world I find myself. I tried to give her up at one point, because her attention started to fade. She threw me over later, at the end of the summer, once and for all. But even that, in the end, was not so devastating. I had gone without for 6 years, and this girl woke up my heart. I suddenly felt joy, pain, and desire again. I felt, almost, greatful to her. Lets make the attempt, and "put myself out there" as she said I should do. So I had a couple unproductive in-person meetings thanks to the OKCupid, then got a little lazy with that, knowing I can come back to that attempt, say, after the holidays.
Over the past month or more, she and I became "just friends." I knew I had no chance with her, but that was OK -- we enjoy each others company, we started talking more and seeing each other more often, and she's fun. Sometimes I can make her happy. Sometimes I can console her. Occasionally we fight. Plus, she kind of needs a friend outside the power structure that has taken her into it's bosom, because I don't judge her, or try to "improve" her, or crack the emotional whip.
We had been talking a lot. I had been learning a lot about her. Getting to know the history more, beginning to learn the provenance of various pieces of baggage. Plus, she's not dating anyone, is not in love with anyone, she gets her "enthusiasms" but none right now, so it's pretty painless to hang out with her.
But this weekend, she calls me up. We meet at the bar. We hang out for hours, it ends up just us two together, me massaging her here and there, talking intimately about many things. And because she does feel comfortable with me at least that I don't judge, and she knows I also have things one can't be perfectly proud of about my life, and don't lecture her, she gives me the latest revelation out of nowhere:
Yeah, she hasn't had sex in a year or more since Mr. Pick-Up artist's days. Oh, she says, "but I fooled around with someone a couple times since then." Turns out it was twice, turns out the mystery man (which is not Mr. Pick-Up) she's only known from "the neighborhood" for probably a year or two -- this was not a man from her past. He went down on her. On two separate occasions. And she wasn't drunk either at the time. And yes, it had meant nothing to her. I know that's true. And it happened this summer.
So yes, although the news was a little surprising, it wasn't that surprising. Even half-crazy women with relatively low sex drives "get the itch" now and then. And they get it scratched. And I was around at the time. She liked me, she thought I looked good, she found me funny, she told me I had a "hot fucking bod." Why didn't she let me scratch her itch for her? I was there for it. Because fundamentally, even though she did really "like" me for a while (and she came to me first, I hadn't chased after her) when her occasional urge came up, I was entirely undesirable, unattractive, un-sex-worthy.
Major butthurt. Trust me, I'm a young-looking 41. Maybe at one point I'll put up a picture. Women may find me handsome enough, fit enough, fun enough, funny enough, and fundamentally good enough. But they are no longer attracted to me. So suddenly, this girl has gone from being a wake-up call to the heart who made me want to "get myself out there" to someone who has driven a final nail in the coffin of any hopes I have for affection. I had had some hope, because after all, she's beautiful herself, and she appreciated a lot about me. Now I hve none, because when it counted, I was a great big DNW.
So anyway, at the time, this Sunday, when she let it slip, she did try to walk it back when she saw how it sucker-punched me, but I know it was true. She's not THAT good at making up stuff. And if she is, she's not that cruel.
We left each other amicably on Sunday. I was not angry at her at all for telling me, and I didn't think less of her as a person -- why should I have? We did not fight.
I called her on Monday, basically to let her know for sure I was not angry, but was hurt. I caught her at a wrong time over the phone. We ended up fighting. Let me quote from the denoument of my email to her today. At the end of our screaming matches by cell-phone late last night, she said she'd never speak to me again.
"I caught you while you were busy with money business, and you were focussed on that and yelled at me. That was OK! I know your money issues are a major, major concern in your life right now, they're serious, and you get a lot of stress over them, so I don't blame you! Then you called back, to apologize for shouting at me, but ended up shouting again, so I called you back to get a chance to say what I wanted to say. And as I said to you then -- I was not angry with you. You are right, you owe me nothing. You are your own person, and you have every right to live your life your own way. And I know you have major issues, including the money issue, that cause a lot of stress for you. So I totally understand why it could be that on that Monday evening you were just not up for dealing with me right then. That's all fine --
BUT, when you laid down that line about "I'll see you when I'll see you at the bar" -- meaning, don't call me anymore, I can't be bothered with you, that I resented! Because a friend (me) was hurting, you decided to just cut him off. Sure, I try to console you as best I can over your issues, but when I have an issue, that's your cue to turn your back on me. That's not right. And then when you said so DISMISSIVELY things along the lines of "Look, this is nothing, everyone worries about not being desirable now and then. I can't be bothered with this." Well, when you did that, when you so casually minimized my issues and my feelings, that was not right either. I try to be sympathetic to you. For once, I have a concern that's eating ME up inside, and you dismiss, minimize, and blow it off. This is what makes you a bad friend. This is why I am OK if you never talk to me again. This is what made me angry.
You had things bothering you on Monday, and you couldn't deal with me right then? Fine. Just say that. But DON'T dismiss my pain, DON'T minimize my issues, and DON'T cut me off as a friend just because I'm hurt - over something that YOU had made the mistake of telling me. You're not the only one with problems, princess. You're not the only person who matters in this world. Just because I'm not carrying your crosses doesn't mean that the cross that I bear isn't crushing me too. But you'll never understand that, not now anyway: you're a very desirable woman for whom romantic affection is not so important. You can get it if you want it, but you don't want it that much. I'm a man who no-one wants who wants to be able to share affection with someone, and it's killing me that I can't. Since my position is different than yours, you cant' imagine I have any real problem at all. If it's not in you, it doesn't exist to you.
And yes, as I said in a message you may or may not have heard from last night, you won't understand what I'm facing until you get older. It will happen to you too. Give it 5 years, 10 years, 15 years at the most. You'll reach a time in your life when you won't be young and pretty anymore, when you lose your looks completely, and when the world stops paying you attention -- when men will stop telling you "you're beautiful inside" because you won't be beautiful on the outside anymore. And it will hurt, more than you can imagine. As you have told me, you go to the bar because it's a distraction, that's all. A distraction from all the serious issues you face. What will happen to you when the distraction disappears? What will happen when men (and women) stop flirting with you? What will happen to you when you aren't adorable anymore? I half suspect, and I fear (yes, I fear it, because I don't hate you) that will be the point at which your existence will finally become completely untenable and you will reach your end. Loneliness is real, dear. Being always unwanted hurts. You'll know it someday too. You will."
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