The Pump and Dump – Worst Thing EVER or Blessing in Disguise?

Step away from the phone. It's not gonna ring.

Based on what I’m reading out there in the blogosphere and what I’m hearing from my lady friends, getting pumped and dumped is the very worst thing that can happen to a woman.  What is a pump and dump you ask?  Well, it’s when a lady and a gentleman go out on a date (or two, or three or however many it takes) and get down to the sexy time and then the gentleman fails to call the lady back.  Or fades out.  They never see each other again, no more sexy time happens and the lady runs to her friends/the internet to cry FOUL.

Obviously this happens to men as well.  I am ashamed to admit that I am guilty of perpetrating a few pump and dumps in my time.  (Why?  Well that’s a whole post on its own.  I’ll give you a hint:  It rhymes with “Rad Mex”).  It’s not something I’m proud of because EVERYONE deserves at least the courtesy of a “thanks, but no thanks” text/call.  However I don’t see a lot of men, either online or in real-life, complaining quite as vocally as women do about this phenomenon.  So this post is mostly aimed at the ladies.

So ladies – I’ll let you in on something.  This is so, SO far from the worst thing that can happen to you.  I don’t need to go into all of the various disasters and calamities that life throws our way, but in the grand scheme of things, having someone not call you back after sex is just not a big deal.  In fact, it’s a GOOD thing.  A good thing?  What?  No I’m not high.  Lemme explain…

This guy did you a FAVOR.  He did you a huge solid.  Because this was not the dude for you.  And aren’t you glad that you found this out early rather than 6 months down the line when you’ve become all attached and lovey-dovey with him?  You are now free to roam about the country to seek another victim.  Uh…man.  Of course I meant man.

It doesn’t even really matter WHY he never called back.  He just didn’t.  And that is perfectly OK.  You can’t control the actions of others.  There is no strategy, no trickery or magic you can use to make the dude call you back.  In fact you don’t WANT a call back, not from someone who is not the right fit for you!

What you can, and should do (yes I am going to tell you what to do) is ask yourself one question – WHY am I so upset about this?   Why is this person, that you have known for maybe a couple of weeks, that has invested NOTHING in you, having such a profound effect on you?  Why are you letting this virtual stranger dictate the way you feel about yourself and your worth as a human being?  STOP.  You don’t have to do this to yourself.  Be disappointed.  Joke around with your friends, complain a little bit.  But then realize that you are mourning the loss of something that was never there. This guy was never real.  He owes you nothing.  But guess what – you don’t owe him anything either!  Not a thought, not a word, not a text.  Forget closure.  His not calling back is all the closure you need.

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before…

Today I am feeling nostalgic.  I want to look back at the  fine young gentleman that I spent time with over the past year-and-a-half.  You were all so very lovely and I will remember each and every one of you fondly.  This is my love letter to all of you.  

The French Boy

You taught me exactly what NOT to put  up with in a relationship, and how to stand up for myself and what I need.  Self-respect was a stranger to me the entire time we were together but I have found it once again by remembering how low I felt when I was with you.  You taught me the importance of letting go when something is not working, of paying attention when one’s words and actions contradict each other, of honoring the little voice inside that is screaming that things just ain’t right.

However, there was also so much good that came out my time with you.  Being with you showed me that I have the capacity to open up and love someone, even if I didn’t choose very wisely when I gave that love to you.  Your feedback that I was too cool, too detached and too busy protecting myself was spot-on.  Allowing myself to be vulnerable, to let a man know how I’m feeling  has brought me to the wonderful, peaceful place I find myself in today.

You are truly how I got my groove back!  You reminded me that I wasn’t just a mom – I was a woman.  A fucking sexy one.

The Body

I imagine that this is what you look like right now

While our time together was cut short by the fact that you accidentally got your ex-girlfriend pregnant right before we met, I still enjoyed you.  Sneaking into your house, where you lived with your parents was exhilarating and made me feel like I was back in high school again.  You had a rockin’ ass body and I hope you’re enjoying fatherhood!

Soldier Boy

God Bless the USA!

Supporting the troops took on a whole new meaning when you allowed me to buy you several Jack and Cokes and then take you home for a 21-gun salute.  I learned more about the war in Afghanistan and Iraq from spending a few nights with you than I did from reading countless news articles over the years.  I saw the pain and the haunted look in your eyes when you spoke about your time there, a pain I knew existed in abstract but never saw so up-close.  You were also the first Republican I ever went on a date with.  You taught me that I can never, ever again go on a date with a Republican.  I thank you for your service, both at home an abroad.  You made me feel so very patriotic and proud of the fine young men and women representing us around the world.

Big C (and Not-So-Little C)

I think I will miss you most of all.  Your charm, your wit and way with words, your amazing cat, your amateur gangster rap (which was actually quite good) and of course, the ridiculously mind-altering sex.  Had you been a few years older, I would have seriously considered trying to turn our once-a-month marathon sessions into something more.  You are more talented that you realize, and it makes me more than a little sad to know that we have eaten our last basket of french fries at 1 o’clock in the morning.  You taught me that casual does not have to be disconnected and disrespectful.  You put the “Friends” in Friends with Benefits.  But please – do not EVER grow back that horrific mustache.  That thing almost prevented you from getting laid once and it will prevent you from getting laid in the future. Trust.

Baby C

I will never look at my backseat the same way

Thank you for giving me the experience of being aggressively pursued.  Nobody in the history of all the men I’ve known has come  at me with as much swagger, confidence and persistence as you.   No matter how many times I told you that you were “too young” for me, you wouldn’t give up and you made a great case for the old adage that age really doesn’t matter.  You showed me that a mini-van, although dowdy on the outside, can be turned into a first-class shag-wagon with the flip of a switch.  You’ve got some serious game little man.  Now go forth into the wilderness and use it!

The Last Boy (for the foreseeable future, that is)

Thank you for giving me the chance to be the pursuer and to fully live out the cougar fantasy.  You resisted me for months and right when I was about to give up, you finally gave in to my advances.  The way you looked at me – a mixture of fear, fascination and lust, was intoxicating.  Never have I felt so powerful, so in control.  You handled me in bed with a skill and tenderness that was astounding for someone as young as you are.  I felt like a total goddess in your hands!  Our time together was short, and I bet you’re kicking yourself for not surrendering to my many attempts at seduction much sooner than you did.  You’re gorgeous, sweet, and musically gifted.  I’m so very glad that you were my last stop on the cougar express.  What a fantastic way to close out this chapter in my life!  I know we’ll be running into each other many times in the future, but I have no doubt that you will handle things with maturity and respect.

The Reluctant Monogamist

This looks nice and all, but is this really the ONLY option?

My last foray into normal, society-approved monogamy ran concurrently with the 2010 baseball playoffs, in which my SF Giants were, at long last, victorious in the World Series.  For those that don’t feel like doing the math, this means that my last traditional, exclusive relationship lasted all of 6 weeks.  It happened in the usual way – girl sees cute boy in bar, goes up to him and tells him he looks like Matt Damon.  Boy tells girl she looks like Christina Ricci and buys her a few drinks.  They end up back at boy’s apartment where, shirtless (because he works out obsessively and wants to show it off), he serenades her with alternative music from the 90’s with his beat-up but gorgeous acoustic guitar while she lounges on a balance ball in just her underwear until the wee hours of the morning.   Sex happens.  Several times.  Boy drops girl off at the front door of her hotel, so she doesn’t have to participate in a pre-dawn walk of shame and promises to call.  Girl is indifferent because while the sex was fairly good, the 9-11 conspiracy theories were not.

A mere 6 months had passed since the end of my decade-long marriage and I had absolutely no intention of getting into a relationship.  Turns out, he was in the same boat.  Just a few months out of a serious relationship in which he had been living with someone.  This thing had rebound written all over it – for both of us.  So why, in the name off all that is holy, did I say yes when he proposed we start seeing each other exclusively?  Looking back I realize the following:

• He asked the question while were laying in bed, having just completed the pole vaulting portion of that evening’s bedroom Olympics.  I was in a good mood, full of hormones and dopamine and all kinds of nice orgasm-y feelings.
• We had only been dating a week or two.  I was caught completely off-guard and thought for sure that he wouldn’t bring it up that quickly.  And I had no plans to have the DTR talk.
• It was so damn nice to have someone in my life again, even if I felt the timing was off and that there were things about him that gave me pause.

So when he asked me if I was seeing anyone else, I lied and said no.  Be honest dear reader – you would have done the same thing!  Who the hell wants to tell the sweet, naked man lying next to them that less than 24 hours ago some other dude had zambonied the ice rink?  You know, the one that is telling you how amazing you are and that he doesn’t have any desire to see anyone else?  We became a couple right then and there.  Yet there was so much reluctance in my acceptance of his offer.

The legitimacy of having a significant other that is conferred upon you by society is a heady thing.  I was wrestling with feelings of guilt, shame and just plain feeling like a failure from my marriage breaking apart and this was an easy way to say “see – I’m not a loser after all!”  This made all those bad feelings go away.  The cute little back-and-forth messages that we posted on each other’s Facebook walls, the good morning email that was always waiting for me when I got to work, the goodnight call if I wasn’t staying at his place, the little shelf that he cleared out for my stuff – all of this felt so familiar and affirming.

Let me out!

Not so nice – the suffocating, frantic feeling that I was trapped.  TRAPPED!  The one weekend during our short relationship that we didn’t spend together (he went out-of-town), I literally had to have a girlfriend cock block me when we went out that night.  She had to confiscate my phone so I didn’t text the French Boy or the Tortured Artist.  If she found me at the bar talking to a man, she would come right up between us and pull me away.  She did all of this at my behest because I just didn’t trust myself not to cheat.  I didn’t even have the balls to tell the others that I was seeing someone, you know, just in case.  I knew there was something terribly wrong.  I knew that he was not a good match for me and I also knew that I didn’t want to be in a relationship.

He dropped the bomb on me right after the World Series ended.  It’s almost as if we were under some kind of spell, and once all the excitement was over, the fog was lifted.  That and his ex-girlfriend had called him to “congratulate” him on the win.  I wasn’t with him that night.  Not that it would have mattered.  The call would have come at some point and it would have made him pause and think about what he was doing.

There were so many reasons that he was wrong for me.  He was an addict that had a few years prior, lost everything due to his addiction.  He had anger issues and would punch and throw things.  He regularly trashed his ex-girlfriend.  He was a lawyer.  All of these things and more were revealed to me in the short time we were together.  But despite all this, I was still devastated when the call came.  I had seen it coming.  Sensed him pulling away.  It didn’t make the blow any easier to take.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks and I was feeling mostly OK about things.  Never gave in to the temptation to send just one little text, or email.  Didn’t check his Facebook page or check if he was on IM.  Just when I started to feel balanced again, he emailed me to invite me out to dinner and a show.  Just as friends.  Stupidly (and I knew it at the time) I agreed.  That’s when the flirty drunk texts started.  Again, stupidly, I played along.  Dinner turned into sex of course.  Only this time, I made it clear that I had the right to date other guys and vice versa.  He agreed.  What he didn’t know is that I already was.

The next month or so I spent chasing the dragon, trying to get back to that high I experienced when we first met.  Trying to get the cute good morning emails started again.  Trying to get my stuff back on that shelf.  All the while I’m banging the French Boy again.  Everything came to a head one night when he, drunk again and alone  (which I think is probably a terrible idea for someone with a past addiction to drugs) he texts me, telling me to come over.  I tried to be discreet, really I did.  But he wouldn’t let up.  I finally had to be blunt with him.  “I am at another man’s apartment right now.  I can’t come over.” He was furious.  I never heard from him again.

I have since come to realize that I had always been in relationships for the wrong reasons, not just this one.  For validation.  For status.  For feeling like I was “worth” something.  I would completely give up myself, ignore what I needed, and accept any and all faults in the other person just to keep that precious thing alive.  No wonder when around the 2 year mark (which seems to be the magic point in time when all of my relationships start to fail) I would start to feel restless, and resentful and unhappy.  You can’t pretend forever. You can’t sit by with your needs un-met and expect a relationship to last.

It’s not easy to navigate in a world that values and supports a lifestyle that hasn’t ever worked for you.  So I have two

You can get with this...or you can get with that

choices – 1) Figure out how to operate within the existing system of monogamy in a way that  doesn’t completely crush my spirit and make me feel trapped or 2) Define my own way of being –  of loving and living that allows me to be myself.  And no, I don’t mean allows me to fuck whoever I want at the expense of someone else’s feelings.  The past 2 years has been my attempt at following the 2nd path, the one where there is no guidebook, no support from society at large, no “rules”.  As you have read, I’ve stumbled along this path.  I’ve gotten hurt.  I’m sure I have hurt others, although it was never my intention.  But I just don’t know if I can see myself taking that time-worn and well-traveled route.  Can’t see myself stepping in line again and giving up all that makes me unique just so that I don’t make people uncomfortable.

For now, as I encounter situations that Emily Post certainly can’t help me with, I stumble along, always trying to behave ethically and always trying to be up-front with the men that share my time and space with me.  And maybe – just maybe, I can find someone who understands me and shares my worldview.  I know it won’t be easy.  But I’ll continue to search.  And have amazing, awesome sexy experiences while I do.

L Goes on a Date with an Anti-Semetic, OCD, Homophobic Misogynist (who likes the Goo Goo Dolls)

I just had to share this post with you guys. Fits in nicely with my Bad Date Chronicles, which, for better or worse, I have no new material for.

Petworth's Finest

It’s common knowledge that I don’t have the best track record with dating. JB and I broke up via text message and he dropped off my belongings on my porch with a post-it. Seriously. My subsequent flame turned out to be married with a kid. Oh, and his wife was seven months pregnant. That was unfortunate for everyone involved.

So what will 2012 bring? Well, I have already had one failed date. But at least this shit is entertaining! It was so bad that I have decided to provide you with a glimpse into our conversation. I’m going to break it down by his…qualities.

Scene: Looking Glass Lounge. Clearly I could not go to Meridian Pint because J the bartender would just make fun of me endlessly. And I would look like an alcoholic to my date.

Date: We will call him the Engineer. Attractive, well dressed, drinking…

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Taking a Dump – The Ethical Way

Today I officially and, leaving absolutely no room for interpretation, gave the old heave-ho to this guy and this guy.  How do I feel?  Relieved?  Empowered?  Smug?  No.  I feel totally shitty and kind of shaken.  I mean, as exasperating as these two were, they were, at the core, truly nice human beings.  I dated each of them for roughly 2 months a piece, although in retrospect I let things go on for about a  month too long.  Why is it that I give so much latitude, benefit of the doubt and graciousness to those that dump me, but I have no such charitable feelings about myself when I do it to others?

Let’s face it – nobody wants to give out bad news to another person.  I HATE confrontation.  But I realized recently that I had stayed far too long in many situations, not just relationships that were doing nothing for me, or were even damaging me in some way simply because I was too afraid to speak up and assert myself.  Because I was so, so afraid of someone being mad at me or not liking me.  How in the world has it taken me almost 35 years to start getting over this mindset?  How have I been so deeply programmed by bullshit traditional gender narratives that I didn’t even realize I was doing this?  Am I not a kick-ass feminist?  It’s time I started acting like one for fuck’s sake!

It would have been pretty easy to pull the fade on these dudes.  I mean, even the most thick-headed and socially clueless person figures out after a few weeks of unanswered texts that the other person is just no longer interested.  Pulling the fade just isn’t my style.  It’s been done to me PLENTY of times and while the prevailing wisdom out there in the murky swamp of internet dating advice is that this is a perfectly acceptable way to end things, I just can’t bring myself to do that.  I may be a slut, but I try to practice my sluttery in ethical ways.  These fine gentleman, while ultimately not the right fit for me, gave to me their time, their hospitality, and occasional use of their lovely cocks.  It’s the least I can do to end things cleanly and without question, right?  It’s what I would want.  (You listening Karma?  I’m doing the right thing over here.  Throw some good shit my way you bitch!  Just kidding.  I love you).

Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to repeat this wretched process 2 or 3 more times before I lose my nerve!