rabbit hole: an absurd and improbable world inhabited by many strange characters

I started this blog with this post in mind: to expose myself to the point that my past actions no longer have power over me. It has taken me almost 2 months to build up to this.

The day I received the letter from my agent rejecting my manuscript, I took action. I needed to get drunk and fuck – there’s nothing like a little, or a lot, of alcohol and sex to make a person forget his or her troubles. So I called Dexter, D,up. It was a Thursday, and it was a week after I attempted to set him up with my best friend which I subsequently sabotaged.

Whenever I’ve decided to have sex, I’ve had sex. And I like sex a lot. But because of this, I am meticulous and methodical in choosing my partners (I will never sleep with a guy who verbally states he is great in bed. Like class, if you have to say you have it, you automatically do not). Bad sex is not better than no sex. Bad sex is bad sex, and I’ve discovered certain indicators of how a man will perform in bed. As an athlete and one who is friends with several talented athletes, I understand the refusal to play beneath a certain level of skill. It’s simply not fun and it actually brings down one’s own game and enjoyment of the sport.

“Meet me at the Grill at 9.”

“I have a softball game in the city. I won’t be able to make it until 1030.”

“I’ll be gone by then. You really don’t want to miss me.”

“I should be able to get there before 10.”

Dexter showed up around 945. I was annoyed that I had to wait but I was determined. For all our months of flirting, for every moment we had shared intimate details about each other, all I cared about was having sex. I was already drunk by the time he arrived. And I was sitting on a stool when he walked up. We made smalltalk for a few minutes until I revealed a pivotal piece of information.

“I’m not wearing any underwear.”

I was wearing a skirt. I wasn’t messing around; I had my agenda. He dipped his head down so he could get a glance. For a minute he was dead silent. For a moment I thought I had completely turned him off with my bawdiness. Silly me. He asked if I wanted another drink. I said yes, so we went to the bar and while we were waiting, he asked if he could kiss me. I said okay. Ten minutes later, we had finished our drinks. He asked if I wanted to leave.

“Yes. But we need to go to your place.”

Why? Because my ex-boyfriend, with whom I had broken up with a week earlier, was still living in my apartment.

The details of the night aren’t important. What is important is the next morning, he called me a cab and escorted me into it, slipping the driver a $20 and telling me he’d call me a few hours from the airport, which he did. I remember this part clearly, because this is what a man who knows how to take care of a woman and knows how to take charge does. The day before, his divorce had been finalized and he was flying back west to pack up his house and move everything into storage.

That weekend my ex made a last ditch effort to get me back. He had booked a hotel room in the city and made dinner reservations and was so emphatic about the whole thing, calling it “our goodbye” that I agreed. But I had already moved on and I was just going through the motions of even caring.

When Dexter returned on Monday, “we” began. We had our first date, which lasted for hours and for the life of me, I cannot remember what we talked about but we talked for hours. We spent every evening of the week together. A week later, I told him I thought I wanted to marry him – the girl who got panic attacks at bridal showers and looked forward to weddings solely for the open bar. He said he felt the same. He gave me the keys to his apartment.

Everything moved very quickly and we both dove head first into the relationship. Looking back, my relationship with Dexter was a formula for disaster. I hated my job at the time, I was dealing with the setback of rejection from my book, and I hadn’t mourned the loss of my previous relationship with S, who was one of my best friends for 5 years. It probably didn’t help that Dexter was coming out of a very difficult period time in his life, but I cannot make any assumptions on his behalf.

To be continued…