July 19 2015, not quite a milestone.

I almost had sex Friday night.  Many people I chat with know I haven't had sex since I was seventeen, and by sex I mean being intimate at all with another human being. Anyway it could have happened but it didn't, because of me.

He's exactly the kind of guy I'm attracted to.  Confident, sophisticated, well-groomed, and a gentleman.  Perfect guy, really.  There's no way he'll ever find my blog so I can say his name is Eli.  Eli works with artists to find NEA grants for their projects, which I think is cool, though I don't completely understand how that works.  Eli took me to dinner at a Mexican place in Oak Park called Maya Del Sol.  I was there once before with my dad and I liked it a lot.  And I liked it again this time.  I had fish tacos...pescados whatever.  Eli and I had great conversation.  He's sort of a nerd, talking about science stuff a lot, but I like that.  Eli told me about Pluto and the satellite thing going on right now.  I wish I knew more about that.

I should have invited Eli in when he drove me home, but I didn't.  I know it sounds stupid now but I became afraid of my own motives.

You know the metaphor of being laden down with emotional baggage.  Well I'm carrying something like 200 pounds of old bricks, each one the same, each one for a guy who had sex with me during high school, each brick earned to get attention.  I was a slut for attention.  It hurt me then when I understood what I was doing and that's why I completely stopped having sex.

I'm now twice the age I was when I stopped.  I should have let go of all that long ago, but I haven't.  Friday night was the first time I really had to confront those feelings, and I found them right where I'd left them.  So I didn't invite Eli in.  I didn't feel ready.  We didn't have sex though we both wanted to.  But I think we left it open.  I'm pretty sure he wants to see me again.  I hope so.  Is Eli someone I could get serious with?  I don't know.  I think I could want that.  Maybe.  I hope he's patient.  It's so complicated. 

As much as I'd like a partner, as much I like guys, as much as my biology still tells me I need a mate, I'm still satisfied wallowing in my horrible perversions.  I can still get out of breath, literally soak my panties when I fantasize.  I am not done with that.  I want more of it, for real, not just in fantasy.

My poor kitty Ben is looking at me suspiciously.  He was already an older cat when I adopted him.  Ben came with a lifetime of wisdom of watching humans so he can probably tell when I'm troubled.  Okay, he can definitely tell when I'm opening a can of tuna.  I hope he doesn't know what I think.

I know this is a different kind of post from me.  I hope it's better than nothing.  I've been working on a bottle of Merlot tonight and now I want to forget about Eli for the moment and pollute myself really bad.