Helpless chick, anyone? Anyone?

The weather’s finally broken so it’s not godawful to sit outside. The three of us, on V’s patio, discussing the hows of attracting the opposite sex. When you are single and not attracting the oppostie sex, you begin to wonder how it ever happens. How do you go from, "the weather's getting nice" to "take off your clothes"? And how can I help along that leap?

You know when someone's attracted to you, or at least think you do. The worst thing is when you are caught and so find someone trying to back away. It's usually not terribly delicate. "We should grab lunch sometime." "I have a girlfriend." Uh, okay.

As a married woman--and yes, last time I checked with the attorney I still am!--I could fly safely under that radar. Use that attraction when I wanted to and still avoid the hideous pitfalls of rejection. I have a ring. See? A wedding ring.

I've finally stopped wearing the thing. Hello, hideous.

Like someone thinking you're attracted to them and you have no idea where they're getting it from. My neighbor, for instance. Lovely fellow. Irish. Ancient. I now and have never had any interest in shagging that. But I found out recently from a mutual friend he thought I was coming on to him. And if he could be that deluded, well, couldn't we all?

At some point in the course of our patio discussion T, referring to knowing me before and after my husband left tells me, “It’s like you were invisible before.” Perhaps I was a little more safely under the radar than I suspected.

But I was faithful. And, despite the fact I'm not terribly willing to give much of myself nor do I want too much of another, I still want monogamy. And there's the rub.

Men claim to want vulnerable women. But I've found no success in showing a vulnerable side. It seems to make them run away quickly. I cried on the phone three times yesterday, and the only person who could stay with it was a girlfriend. I even texted someone who's vaguely trying to get into my pants: omg, helluva day. help! Nothing. No response.

T explains vulnerable in an unusual way. He thinks if a woman lets her guard down and acts flirty that she's showing a vulnerable side. Have I missed something? Is that not the dance? Is it not a given that we all need sex? That's like saying showing someone you're hungry equates with exposing your needy side. What's vulnerable in the aftermath of the flirting?

Men abhor angry women. Men worry about hurting women’s feelings. Men are visual. T confirms these things but can’t answer for us the critical piece—what makes them stay? He’s trying to extricate from his current relationship.

There is some sweetspot between strong and helpless. I have no idea what it is.

Old behavior

I get a note from my sister and she tells me about some visitor coming across her stash of L'Eggs pantyhose containers. The visitor's taken apart and stacked the plastic shells when my sister was not in the room, and when she returned she tells her, "I reuse those."

She has a stash? The stash is detectable by a neighbor stopping in for a drink? Didn't L'Eggs stop making those plastic eggs years ago? What on earth could you reuse those things for, anyway?

She told me this as a way of making fun of herself.

Happy birthday to me

It's only taken 40 years but I'm finally throwing my own birthday party. All the weird birthdays past--no more. If only there was someone to invite I'd like to sleep with. Oh well. On to bigger and better things. Or at least other things.

Another one bites the dust

I don't know if here I'm talking about the one night stand a few weeks back or the first man I've met in this town in months who's been attractive to me. I mean really attractive. Let's take it one at a time.

After London I was thinking about a post slamming the sexual prowess of the Jewish American Male. On the occasion of said one night stand, I was bored even before I'd had an orgasm. It reminded me of my first fiance, the inimitable Herr Hyman (ha! I can't remember how he spells it, with an e or an a!). Then I remembered my friend in New York, so that kinda lost steam. Besides, who needs to add to that the frothy stew of hatemongering toward Jews in the climate I currently find myself?

But I do wonder how different a person I might be had things with the Herr worked out. I remember once him asking if I knew the meaning of my name in German. You know those early charged conversations, where a smile accompanies every word, where we look for opportunities to flirt? I responded by asking if he knew what his name meant in English. I have since learned a lot about the fragility of the male ego.

Last night my friend received a text message from a lover. It was clearly an intercept, intended for another. She wanted to reply, confront. Don't do it, I told her. Just ignore it and see what happens, that's the dignity-intact response. But she was eager to do something. If you must, I told her, make it a joke. If there's one thing a man cannot bear it's an angry woman. They will run. Or worse, placate.

Those are the ones that seem to stick for me, the placaters. Ugh. Which I suppose answers my initial question, I'm not different. Not really. How would I have responded in that situation? Would I have been able to even hear my gut response over the noise of the hurt?

Which brings me to the man I just met. Attraction is such a funny thing. Ha ha funny, as in, I think I looked cartoonish twisting and straining to follow him walking into the room. I couldn't really see him, it wasn't that. I just had this gut reaction to his presence. Yum. Still, I think before I even really saw him, I saw his name tag. and that name tag read, yes, "Jeff." Ha! My gut piped up, FORGET IT. But that was squashed in an INSTANT. I sat through an entire lecture hanging on his every word, trying to look a bit bored. Turning his explanation about a chart into a direct flirtation, aimed at me. He described something pumping and drew an up arrow, intersected that with another line then drew and retraced a circle talking about the "great spot." Um, isn't that usually the "sweet spot" on a chart? I can only think of one G-spot, and I wanted to drag him from the room and find it. OK, maybe a Stretch Armstrong doll wouldn't even move that far, but it was a fun lecture for me. I wanted to raise my hand and ask if he was willing to talk dirty. I watched his hands moving, and pictured them moving over me. He had beautiful hands.

Which reminds me, I did find another man insanely appealing, and just the other day, too. I went to a Spanish music presentation at the Intercon. The cellist was HOT. I enjoyed thinking about his hands too, and I didn't have to pretend I wasn't looking because there was loads of distance and that was never happening. This guy's moving here. But I may well be long gone.

And so what? I found myself telling my friend not to cast a bitter pall over the fun she's had with this fellow. Today's moments should not take away from yesterday's. I want to remember all the fun I had with Jeff, if and when I ever remember it, fondly. Same with Geoff. And Jeff I. We are only our moment. Trying to hang onto a good feeling will surely wrest the life from it. There may have been a time I'd try to find a business reason to contact this fellow, find out more. I would have fed more energy into it trying to recreate the good feeling. Then my feelings would be hurt. Possibly crushed.

For this moment, I am in a space where I am finding the joy or the happiness or the sadness only that. Moving on, forcing nothing.