Two Months

Today marks two months since my first date with Mr. J2.

On November 19 we met for dinner and the rest is history.

Two months – that’s pretty significant in a lot of ways.

I can honestly say that this is the longest I’ve dated anyone and haven’t found something I didn’t like about them.

What I mean is, this summer I dated Mr. M and it lasted just shy of 8 weeks. He kind of started to lose interest, and when I called him on it, he admitted he didn’t really want to go forward but he also said he didn’t want to stop. So I decided for him.

But even when we were dating there were things I didn’t like about our ‘relationship’. I didn’t like that after 8 weeks we had only had two all-night sleepovers. In fact, at the end, we were pretty much only seeing each other for sex – at least the last two weeks that’s what it felt like.

Plus he wasn’t really into kissing. Not sure if it was just kissing me, or in general. The sex was okay – he was well endowed and quite adventurous – but like most men in his 40s he had some issues in that department. We had a pretty good sex life and did some things outside of the bedroom but ultimately it was just a summer fling.

Previous to that was my ill-fated attachment to Mr. R. We’re still friends, and in fact he will be in town next week and I want him to meet Mr. J2. I’m not sure if that’s because I want Mr. J2 to meet my friends or I want to rub it in slightly to Mr. R – because if you read back my blog to this summer I developed an unhealthy attachment to him, no thanks to his words and his actions. In looking back I am very glad that nothing came of it, that we just had a summer fling, because no matter how well we get along, ultimately we want different things; he wants to live in his cottage on the lake year-round, and I need to work for at least 20 more years before that’s an option for me.

But I digress…

Previous to Mr. M and Mr. R was Mr. K. We dated for two years and I ended things with him a year ago.

Wow. A year already. Time flies.

I knew we were not well suited from the beginning. Sex with him, the few times it happened, was the worst of my entire life. It was worse than the time I lost my virginity.

No shit. It was that bad. We only had sex about 4 times, all within the first three months we were dating. Then there was nothing for two years.

But even in those first two months, I knew we were not well suited. There were times I was disappointed and ended the evening in tears; he didn’t invite me to go with him and his buddy to celebrate Mr. K’s 40th birthday. Instead, I got to take him to dinner then sent him on his way.

(Now I am all for men having their guy time but it was his birthday; if I indeed was his ‘girlfriend’ then I should have been included in the evening as more than a chauffeur. That’s all I am saying)

Many times I was left behind, or had to wait for him, or had to drive him someplace. Even now I joke with Mr. J2 when an email from Mr. K comes in – it invariably is all about him and rarely does he ask how I am doing. Some thing don’t change.

Last night was a rough one for me. For some reason I was in tears for most of the evening, and sleep was fitful at best.

(And not because I watched two more episodes of Making a Murderer)

I started to have doubts. Okay, I am starting to have doubts, maybe that sounds better. And the doubts are not about him, they are about me. Can I do this? Can I be a step-mother again, and live in a house with the ghost of another woman? What if the kids like me now but then they don’t when I’m a regular fixture? I hate not seeing Mr. J2 when he has the kids. I hate not staying over. But I know it’s the way it needs to be for how, because it’s still new. Does the Ex’s man stay over when the kids are with her? Probably not as she still maintains that they are ‘just friends’.

Maybe it’s the prospect of a long cold winter ahead. Maybe it’s the prospect of what could be – but these past few days have found me more aware of the small things that frustrate me in my own life. The roommate who never quite cleans her kitchen mess up properly – leaves crumbs and tea stains on the white counter; her boot mess by the front door as she doesn’t put her wet boots on the carpet, she leaves them on the floor so now there are two nice salt and snow stains on the ceramic. The fact that the roommate has never, ever washed the floors in the three years we’ve lived together. The way that the roommate changes the channel on the tv if I am gone from the couch for more than five minutes. The way she has let a bottle of cooking sauce leak on its side for a week or two on her shelf in the fridge with no effort yet to clean it up or even put it right side up. And let’s not even talk about the way she complains about everything just to complain – last night I actually laid in bed thinking about what it would be like if she moved out. I thought about moving my stuff back into the master bedroom and how nice it would be to have all my space back – to not be forced to watch tv in my bedroom, especially when So You Think You Can Dance or Survivor is on.

Sure, these may seem like small things but they are just a few of the things I notice now, after having spent so much time with Mr. J2. I would especially miss the $600 in rent she pays me, and the $140 utility split we share. But if she left I would be able to cut down on cable and maybe only go to internet, thus saving a ton of money.

But again… I digress.

I know I am making more of this than there is. I know my brain is trying to sabotage me. For the first time in a long time, I am actually happy. Sure, not seeing Mr. J2 for a week is rough – I mean all I think about this week is if Mr. J2 is too busy to miss me and yet I know that’s not true. I know he misses me because he always finds the time to text me, even when it’s late and he is still cleaning or doing laundry to get ready for the next day with the kids. I know that. When he has time, he makes a point to touch base with me, even if it’s something as small as sending me a heart emoji.

So then why am I freaking myself out? Why am I worried about the possibility of moving in with him, when moving in with him is all I can think about now? Last night I panicked thinking about being a step-mom and living in the house he shared with his ex for 15 years. Because the last time I tried to be a happy family with someone it was anything but. And I don’t want that to happen here.

Is it just because we are at the two-month mark and I really can’t see any negative issues in our relationship so I must make some up?

Why must I stress about things for no reason? Who cares what I make for dinner on the weekend; he will love it and eat it because I made it for him. So why am I stressing about whether to make pulled pork or beef stew?

Why do I do this to myself? Why can’t I just let myself be happy? Every night I haven’t slept in his bed, since Friday evening, has been shitty sleep. Not just because I miss him but because I can’t shut my mind off thinking about him.

It’s the middle of January and it’s cold here. Fucking cold. Wear-my-snowpants-to-work cold.

I need something to look forward to. Sure, a winter vacation would be nice but that’s not going to happen. Christmas, as wonderful as it was, is far behind and the winter is stretching out long and cold ahead. Is it just that I need to plan, to organize and to have something to look forward to? And moving in with him, while it’s been discussed but not decided upon yet, is the most logical thing for me to organize?

Or do I just have way too much time on my hands? (This one gets my vote)

What’s that old saying? Idle hands are the Devil’s playground? So I’m lonely and bored without him so I spend all my time thinking of him and imagining us together which is not making me feel any better since all of that is still a ways away.

It’s like I need AA – one day at a time.

If I can just focus and get through one day, and turn my mind off, then I might make it through this winter without going crazy.

Or at least not sleep-deprived.

Let’s see what tomorrow brings, shall we?


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