So now that I’ve cobbled together some crumbs of self-esteem from a divorce 4 years ago that I never thought I’d have, I’m faced with a new reality. The sex scene. At this point, I’m not even looking for my next life-partner or even a boyfriend. I just want someone to rock-my-world for one night. Is this too much to ask?
Why spend all this time at the gym and juice bars (I don’t even like juice!) to get back to some semblance of attractiveness when there are no “good” men anywhere? And that investment in botox and skin resurfacing and all the other beauty maintenance I’ve done really only buys me a couple more years of decent looks before it all goes straight to hell with bloody menopause! Then I’ll be lucky to land some geriatric who invests heavily in Pfizer Pharmaceuticals.
Aaah! The plight of the 40+ year-old divorcee… My most recent encounter could hardly be described in any tangible terms. It was “the sex-weekend-that-never-was” with my 29 year-old stud, “Jake-the-Hotness”.
I really set a new low. Even for me. (I’ll spare your readers my sordid past with strangers in Vegas hotel hallways).
So…this is why I’m going to hell FOR SURE:
My little rendezvous with “Jake-the-Hotness” was dependent on his grandmother passing away…thereby forcing him to drive home for her funeral, and stopping off to do a little mattress-dancing with me along the way.
I got all prepped for a naughty encounter including leg shaving, deep conditioning, full body exfoliation, and teeth whitening.
Then the next day the whole thing was called off because…. get this…: SHE DIDN’T DIE IN THE NIGHT as he was told she was expected to do.
How many levels of hell further down will I go because when he said she didn’t croak, I was actually disappointed?
It took me a few breaths before I could force out some pleasantry like…”Oh! Well THAT’S good news, right?”
After that he seemed to want to reassure me by telling me that she’d have to go soon.
So, I told him if anything were to “happen” with her, that I was free both Saturday and Sunday, but not Monday — because was I flying to Copenhagen. Thank goodness for work.
He told me he’d keep me posted on her condition and I found myself in a black mood that night.
I mean, really! I was actually wishing some old lady would kick the bucket just so I could get my rocks off. (To mix a few metaphors.)
Needless to say…neither metaphor has happened.
Now here’s where it gets REALLY sad…
I just got the news from an old friend, “Chris-the-Software-Guy” (whose wedding I was in and whose fiancee insisted I wear the world’s most “memorable” bridesmaid’s dress.) I will interrupt here, Catherine, to let your readers know you nicknamed that dress the “Purple Porn Gown”.
Well the dress (which has been re-purposed as a bed and is now very much appreciated by my stepmother’s cat) lasted longer than the marriage.
Chris’ wife left him last week. He’s supposed to be out this way on an extended work training thing and since he’s suddenly single, I told him I’d come see him. Ostensibly it’s to “check in on him” to see if he’s okay…but he and I both know very well what will really happen if we end up in the same zip code, both single.
It’s inevitable. I really like him, but would never get into a relationship with him. We had a one-night “thing” back in college and the poor guy isn’t exactly gifted in bed. Okay, he was lame. Yet, I’m still strangely, ANIMAL-Y attracted to him. Always have been.
Oh well. It’s as they say. Even cold pizza is still good pizza.
The strange part is…I could end up with a sex-traffic-jam next month with either Chris or Jake. (Jake and I are still trying to put together a rendezvous.)
And yet somehow I feel like the stars are aligned against me: Ever. Getting. Laid. Again. EVER! So, although there are a couple irons in the fire…I suspect I’ll get no play at all. How did this happen?!
Maybe I’m being punished for being so “active” in college.
God’s not even letting me have a comeback tour!