If I was a guy, we wouldn’t be having this conversation

I spent this past weekend in Chicago with my awesome pseudo-cousin, J-Mac (I have a lot of “J”s in my life, deal with it). I hadn’t been back to Chicago since Ex’s and my honeymoon, so it’s been more than a few years, and I needed some new memories of my favorite city. I spent the first day and a half walking around to my favorite spots, shopping, eating, and then J-Mac got there, and we got down to business.

J-Mac was one of my bridesmaids, and that was the last time I saw her, although we have spoken quite a bit since then. But still – we had tons to catch up on. She filled me in on her dating stats, I gave her the lowdown on Jay’s annoyingness, it was great. But at one point, I started feeling kind of guilty. I told J-Mac that I felt almost like I had been using Jay for sex. From the beginning, I hadn’t really been that into him, I wasn’t over-the-moon attracted to him, and we didn’t talk that much. But the sex was amazing and I hadn’t had any for so long that I was like a fiend getting my fix. I kept this dialogue up for long enough that J-Mac turned to me at one point and said, “So what if you were using him for sex?” She left it just like that, and I started pondering this. Was it really such a bad thing? I mean, I hadn’t led him on to thinking that I was more into him than I was, and aren’t a lot of relationships based on sex? That’s when I said it.

“If I was a guy, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I would’ve just said, ‘Yeah, that was hot, sex was good, but I’m moving on.’ And while I don’t want to be the equivalent of a misogynistic pig, I don’t think there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about saying that I like sex, and that while this guy was great for sex, he wasn’t really good for anything else.”

And it’s true – sex is a totally normal, valid form of physical contact, and as long as all parties are consenting adults, than why would it be weird to see someone just for the sex? Again, you’re not leading this person on, you’re not promising things that you have no intention of following through on – you’re just having some laughs and lots of mind-blowing sex. I don’t see anything immoral or unethical about that.

J-Mac just looked at me and smiled and gave me a hug. “I knew you’d get there eventually.” I love that girl. She knows her stuff.

– Finch

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I just don’t feel like I’m there with you

So from the same CL listing that brought me the fleeting joy that was Catcher, I was able to snag another fish. Long after all of the responses had come in, I received another one, incredibly long, with a picture. I was feeling pretty bored, so I went ahead and read through it.

OMG. This guy was perfect. 6’4″, 250, former football player. Played for Miami in college, Kansas City Chiefs in the pros, a little NFL Europe, had amazing dreads and tattoos. He waxed philosophically about string theory, and discussed the complexities of rap in today’s world. I was hooked.

We email back and forth for two days – as in, 48 hours. We then exchange phone numbers so as to text each other (he lived about 75 miles away from me). I had told him that I was going to be packing for my trip to San Francisco, so texting would be easier for me. Now, this was a Tuesday night, and I was not leaving until Thursday morning. This will become relevant soon.

One of the first things he texts me is this little picture which says “Don’t chase people. Do you, work hard, and the people who are supposed to be in your life will find their way to you and stay there” (or something like that). It was truly exactly what I needed to hear right then.
“Thanks! Perfect message for me!”
“FYI… I fall hard.”
Um, what? I don’t know you. I understand falling in love with someone’s personality over the interwebbings, but please. We have only been speaking for two days. “Okay, well, I usually wait until I meet someone to fall for them, so…” “Oh yeah, me too!” Liar. Now I’m a bit weary, so my responses are not coming as quickly as possible. Finally he asks me to send him pictures and texts throughout the day while I am in SF so he “can feel like [he] is there too.” No. I am going on vacation to a city I have never been to and I will be with R, one of my best friends ever. I am not wasting my time texting someone I don’t even know.

The next day, I made all of my co-workers supremely jealous with details of what I was going to do, and where I was going to go whilst on my adventures. I completely forgot about football guy. Thursday morning I woke up bright and early to head to the airport. While I was waiting for my flight (I like to get there ridiculously early and hang around the terminal), I checked my emails and…

I just don’t feel like I am there with you, baby
Are you okay? I’m so worried about you! I haven’t heard anything and when I tried to call, I kept getting a weird message. Let me know you got there safe!

Oh wow. Now we’ve gone into crazy stalker mode. I don’t know why my phone would not let his calls through, but for the first time ever, it earned the moniker of “smart” phone. I deleted the email, determined to just ignore him, and went on my way.

Except that, when I landed in San Francisco, there were five text messages from him and three new emails. Well, both Verizon and Yahoo make it easy to block people, so okay, blocked! Good – I can now enjoy my vacation. Oh, what is this text from a new number? “I really miss you.” Guessing that is not from one of my friends, since none of them are creepy. And what is this email from an address I don’t recognize? Oh, it’s a picture of a teddy bear and a candle. “Already buying you gifts!” Okay, more blocking.

In the end, I only had to block three email addresses and the two phone numbers. And, thank the lord above, he never got my last name or a real picture of me (my face was pretty well blocked in the one I had posted). Is it any wonder I am crazy when these are the kind of guys out there???

– Finch