- Do I just cut to the part where he told me he’d broken his penis?
- Or that he’d recently be arrested for drugs and spent time in jail?
- Or to the bottle of G* in his coat pocket?
- Perhaps the first picture that he sent to me, of his whips and chains as part of his BDSM practice?
No. Lets start in the driveway outside the gate of my ex boyfriends home – my home for a while. In Magic Man’s giant grey pick up truck. He’s kissing me and I’m thinking “What a great f*&king night”.
The first time I came to LA, it was my honeymoon. The time after that it was to try and save our marriage. Most recently, I was visiting my ex from last year on route to see my sister in NYC. So many alternative lives in one and I’m not even half way through.
When ex went to a party and I was home alone, I did what any self respecting writer who’d been binge watching Girls did, and I rejoined Tinder. Time to test the waters and catch an LA fish. And I found one completely my vibe. Tall, dark, Jewish and handsome, with an ’S’ surname! He had soulmate written between the lines all over his bio. Day one we texted, day two we spoke and day three, we met up.
I’d been at Soho house with ex which is one of my most favourite places in the world. Like entering a time warp reality, I remembered in precise detail, the decor choices, layout and the feeling state I was in the last time I’d visited: with my then husband. This was my kind of place, with my kind of people and I’d thought – we could make it work. Almost a decade later, I was back, with an ex who’d I’d dreamt of falling in love with and moving to America for, awaiting the imminent arrival of a tinder random I’d fished out 2 days prior. The possibility of life changing experiences, always in the air. The reality of failed ones creating the grounded support. Forever hopeful, I went to meet fate face to face.
Ex walked me down to meet mid week magic’s date:
Date: Cool shirt man
Ex: Hey thanks, your waistcoat’s better!
Date: Look it’s not a competition…
Ex: But if was, you’d win
I grinned ear to ear. Awkward is the best start! I love this shit. I want to write it all down. And I do.
I wore a leather dress. I love a man who’s so specific in his tastes that I get to character dress up for. “Do girl next door today”, “Do sporty”, “I want a short black dress with stockings”. I’m direactable. And hollywood’s a great place for directors!
My date took me to the magical academy for a night of magic shows. Such a brilliant choice for my witchy ways. Red wine and magic – I mean!? Joyful.
And the stories! He was filled to the brim with them. Entertainment for days. I told him how I wanted to write all about it – so much juice with the squeeze. “Just be with me in the moment” – that was tricky.
He flirted with a tattooed woman who’s boyfriend sat next to us. I liked the giant bow in her short hair. I didn’t like that he flirted with her in front of me. He explained I shouldn’t worry because we had rapport and that was just attraction. I like it when you you get an overview of how your potential relationship would play out on date one. It’s either a massive time saver in the longevity of your dating timeline or points to exactly what area’s you’ll be working on should you choose him as a chapter. Shadow integration / childhood wounds 101. Teach me, show me more!
After my written exploration into women’s relationship between sex and men, it seemed fitting that who I’d find next is the one guy with a broken dick. I didn’t even have to wait for his impotence excuse this time – I got it while his pants were still on.
I was interested and attracted to him because he was such a character.
And that’s how I like my men – blog ready.
I’d asked him to follow me to South Africa on our first conversation so mentioned it again. Don’t think he’s coming but I really like the idea of a man traveling across the world for me. Conceptually. (As ex pointed out, that’s exactly what was happening in New York the next week, which was true. Why is it so easy to ignore the obvious? Or is it that when our desires manifest, they turn out differently than expected?) But this wasn’t New York, it was LA and the focus for the evening was Magic Man. He had lots to say; many alternative theories which were super interesting to listen to. Highly aware and super intense – it’s a great combo.
The point of this story is that I had a great date and often do. I write about how they (the collective male as interchangeable, replaceable commodities) do something to fuck it up. And they do. But what I do: is allow them space in the first place. And I know why I do it: they’re interesting, until they’re not. I like to blame them for my boredom. I match their rejection disclaimers with my ‘writer’ disclaimer.
We both get what we want.
This is equality.
There are so many other things to look for than love. Love is all around us constantly and consistently. It’s in and around me. It can not be found, contained in a man. There is not an oke with a magical love kool-aid, waiting to quench my thirst. I’ve got the cup, I can fill it up and drink all by myself and I do. What I want is not going to be found in another. That’s not to say that all my meaningful, respectful relationships are gender dependent – if anything, I’m liberal, so by all means: men are welcome too. But I cannot pretend that the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is a unicorn man. I am the rainbow.
Down the yellow brick road I’ll walk, ultimately on return home. I’ll happy engage and accept the heartless, brainless, emotionally terrified and good little dogs on the side. But I am done, putting anyone else’s trajectory ahead of my own. I can no longer be threatened smaller with the ideas that no man will want me, when I want me. You’re never lonely, when you’re connected to yourself. And anyone who questions that has clearly never experienced the power that comes from being plugged in and connected to the source of their core.
Watching these ‘maybe this time’ stories unfold in realtime , is one of my greatest treats in life and until they no longer serve a purpose, I’ll keep dating when and whomever I choose to. Life is made up of a million moments and these precious various moments, are all we have.
I’m a Facebook kinda girl.
Ex didn’t think it was a good idea to see Magic Man again. It’s pointless and unkind to lead someone on emotionally or sexually or in anyway. But the real reason I didn’t want to was this: he hadn’t accepted my Facebook friend request. This, ladies, is a can of maggot worms. It means: he’s hiding something (read someone: read, girlfriend). Called by any other name, the connotation of girlfriend is that he doesn’t want her asking questions about a random new ‘friend’ from South Africa and doesn’t want you seeing all their pics together. I know this to be true. So when it came down to, do I, don’t I, of the the red flags and drug deal breakers … Facebook my dear friend was the final call.
Until… until he called me on it. The closest thing to a break up / make up fight I’ve had in a long time. I loved how vulnerable it made me feel. So, as usual, with all the red flags warning me away, I decided to dive into the deep end, ready for the delicious realisations that awaited me in the murky waters of the underworld. What is life, but a journey of alternative experiences. If you can’t face yourself in the mirror, what can you face?
(*G: Not just a date rape drug)