Opposite of Center: Why I don't have a girlfriend

I fell asleep last night completely by mistake EARLY. I'm still on London time, physically.

Those who know me personally know my watches and clocks are set to GMT: Greenwich Mean Time. It's about 6 hours ahead of Chicago. It's hard for me to actually know the current time of wherever I'm at because it doesn't matter. I tend to go by the sun's position during the day (sun is above me, time for "lunch"). When it comes to meeting people wherever I am at, I give them a range of times based on GMT and let them figure it out. In Chicago, though, I do set my phone clock to local time, because my friends hate when I tell them 6pm (or 18:00) and that's noon for them.

This morning I woke up at 4:30am (10:30am GMT). I decided to head into the office, sign paychecks (my one really good talent), put a sign on the door that said "Grab your check and take off at noon" and met up with a friend for breakfast at 6am. It was a fast day. My friend happens to be a woman who is in the same industry as I am in. There are about 32 people in the world that I am aware of that do what I do. 3 are women. 1 is sexually ambivalent, we're not sure if they're a he or a she, and we're not interested in digging deeper.

The woman, who I will call Cass, has done the same job as I for about 10 years longer. She's pushing 50, I would assume, but her cosmetic surgery keeps her face looking like she's in her 30s, and her body is rock solid. We generally only hang out at odd hours. Our favorite thing to do together is to eat a slab of protein and go rock climbing (the real rocks, not the fake ones at a gym). We've both injured ourselves numerous times, but thankfully our high metabolism and strong physical constitutions allow us to heal faster than most.

Today I noticed she was online (it's rare) so I popped her a question at 5:30 and asked what country she was in. Conveniently, she was in Chicago, her base of operations in the States. We decided to meet at our "secret diner" (I have a lot of secret places that I don't share with my out-of-industry friends) and have some greasy slabs of protein and maybe go and navigate some of the city if the weather held up.

I haven't seen Cass in over 10 months. The last time we met we were competing on a job pretty much against one another. This happens in my industry. Picture the guys from Gross Pointe Blank who had a friendly animosity towards one-another. That's how my trade is: we're enemies on the job, friends after work. That job ended up being profitable and successful for both of us, which isn't that rare when you consider that each of our clients had completely different goals in mind. I like that kind of work.

So Cass pulls up in her anonymous, easy to miss 10 year old car (a staple in our industry) and parks right behind me. She looks fantastic, as always. There's something incredible sexual about a woman of her age who walks with confidence, is built like a tank under her skin, but seems frail and lithe from the surface of her body's appearance. I always smile when I see her.

Cass is Euro-bred, so our welcoming gesture is always a kiss. There's never been more than a greeting kiss. From what I know, she's been with half of my other competitors, a common element when a job is over and one of your friends or foes happens to be a member of the opposite sex. James Bond (not what I do, mind you) always sleeps with the enemy woman or the consort on a job. Anyone who works in international circles on short term projects is familiar with the open-sexuality of both men and women.

We talk about upcoming projects, compare notes on our recent successes, discuss the intricacies of international law and financial matters, laugh about the destructive personalities of some others in our trade, and generally have a great time. We talk about a common topic thread of ours: the lives of loners.

I don't feel lonely often. I know I did about 4 years ago, but it passed when I attempted my hand at a serious relationship and realized that it's almost impossible for me to give a women 100% of what she'll need. They're out there, but they're rare birds that don't cross my path that often. Cass asks me if there is any ONE special person in my life, and I admit that I'm conversing with someone who I am attracted to, but that the likelihood of a serious deep-down boyfriend/girlfriend relationship is closer to zero percent than 50 percent. Lately I've been pushing away people who obviously want true love, soul mate unions and/or marriage ahead.

Cass has a guy in every port. Most guys in my industry have a woman in every port. It's actually very normal for the jobs we do. We find ourselves in the same towns here and there, and many professionals will work hard for the job cycle and then take a month off and shack up with someone, letting them know that the relationship is temporary. I go against the flow even here, not being able to successfully juggle more than one lover at a time.

She asks me why I didn't pursue the woman I felt I could openly and fully love those years ago. I told her that she's blind to the reality of 99.9% of the citizens of the world: they need roots, not just their own roots but to intermingle their roots with the roots of their significant others. I have no roots, not even my small apartment and old cat. My cat has traveled with me before when I have long contracts (anything over 10 days). My apartment can go into full shut-down mode, with only the housekeeper visiting thrice a week to dust up and make sure there's no problems.

"Why would that stop you from dating?" Live moves too quickly for me to actually get to know someone well enough. "You have a lot of time." Never in the same city for long. "There's always here, Chicago." Chicago is my love, my mistress, my wife. She'd be a jealous woman if I focused on one lucky lady. "You need to think about the future, too." That's true.

She's right. The day will come when my body and mind decide it's time to move on. Cass is a unique lady, able to keep her mind and body sharp even as age robs most people of their abilities. I may be just like her in that regard, but I have other goals and dreams for the future. Children? Maybe, but not certain. A farmhouse near a river with fields of grain and cattle? Definitely an option. A place to stay in a variety of urban cities? Yes.

But finding someone compatible with my lifestyle is slim to none. I have a problem with girlfriends that I refuse to overcome: I can't date people seriously that complain about every little thing. In my industry, we're trained to pick up on actions that people process that externalize their weaknesses. Many people will complain about everything in life as an externalization of their own self-hatred. They hate their jobs, their friends, their money situation, their lives in general. Instead of packing up their problems and addressing them, they blame everything else.

I can tolerate that with friends. For the rare few who I accepted into my love life, I can tolerate REAL complaints from random things that are hard to fix instantly but have an effect on their lives. But when it's one complaint after another, I have to break off and move on. In this supposed recession, there are far more complainers than happy people. So I have far more friends than I can handle well, and far fewer possible lowers or companions or consorts or mistresses.

We talked some more about the various options, but none of them smacked my eyes and brain and heart open enough to say "Yes! That's a good idea." Then it hit me: I'm just not interested. I love sex, I love wooing and courtship, I love dating in general. I'm a good boyfriend when I'm in a fixed location, but I'm not ready to make that commitment to anyone or anyplace just yet. If I'm horny, I'll find a lover who I am compatible with. If I'm lonely, I'll find a gal pal who can chill on the couch and watch movies or play cards or cook with me. If I need adventure or excitement, I'll grab one of my many unemployed friends and hit the road for 3 days.

Overall, I can't think of what's missing from my life. The need to be needed? No, I have that. Many people rely on me, and not just for business. Love? Not really, love is expendable because MOST relationships confuse love with lust or crushes or mutual need for attention.

We finished our breakfast and decided to wander to a local book store that was just opening its doors for the day. We wandered together, laughing at some of the fictional novels that obviously are written by amateurs with no knowledge of reality. That's always something to laugh about. A mob friend of mine tells me him and his guys laughed for months when the Sopranos was on, it was that off and wrong. A buddy I knew in the CIA used to laugh about the spy thrillers in theaters or novel form, how off it is. I'll always say the same thing about 100% of "self-help" books or "get rich quick" books that don't do anything for the reader except for inspire confidence. The problem with that is how much the confidence crashes when the person doesn't really get any help, or get rich, after following the book's dictations.

We have a final hug and a pop of the lips as we decide to part ways, both of us wondering if we'll see each other again as friends, like this, or as foes, as we had 10 months ago. I'm glad I saw her, realizing how different my life's path has gone compared to others in the industry.

Even though she makes more money than I do, has better connections, has more lovers, nicer apartments throughout the world, I realize one thing about Cass when I see her: she's just not happy. I am. I am so content in my life. My options are endless, and I take advantage of every day. I'm not overworked, I don't have the ridiculous responsibilities that the average middle class citizen has (school debt, credit card debt, high pet costs, crazy utility bills for their huge homes and old apartments, mortgage debt, gigantic health insurance bill). Even if I made a quarter of what I made now, I'd still be comfortable. I'd still be happy.

And that's what pushes me forward: I can continue on this adventure called life and never feel like I've wasted a day. No one holds me back, and no one I know or love or fuck or spend time with throws me off my game. Even my worst friendships and relationships have been beneficial in reminding me of the overall feeling of being content that I have, that so many people want to duplicate.

And that's how I'll close this: you can't duplicate my contentness with things, or with relationships, or with sex, or with drugs or drinking, or with degrees or raises or new job titles. You can't duplicate it by moving to a new town or country, or by going on vacation for a week. You can't grasp it with your hands or your mind or your heart. It comes from bringing closure to each of life's common stresses individually. It comes from being responsible, very responsible, for a very short period of time, just enough to put to rest many of those common stresses.

I was lucky. I ended the most common stresses between the ages of 17 and 21, when most people were getting degrees that they don't even use right now. I was blessed, am blessed, that I could spend those 5 years working hard so I can have the life I lead today.

Do that, today. Don't worry about guys or gals, don't worry about jobs or responsibilities tomorrow. Figure out what made you sad in recent years, and find the top 5 items that repeatedly make you sad. Then fix it by making sure they can't make you sad again. Take a year of very hard work, get 3 jobs if you must, turn off your cell phone service and your cable bill and your health club membership and eating out, but address it TODAY so that in a year or two (or more), you can put that stress to rest forever.

Baptized in her Love, Part I

It may seem lately that most of my recollections and thoughts on previous and current lovers is mostly sex without emotion. That's completely untrue. As Stace discovered last month, I really do love everyone I sleep with, everyone I am friends with, everyone I work with. It's hard not to love an individual for their individuality, even if it is persistently and consistently a negative person.

But there were those past lovers of mine who I loved intimately, and not just in terms of their individual passions. I prefer to call this love adoration rather than love. For me, love has 13 implementations or categories, and I call none of them "love" other than in the generic term.

My first adoration was Mitch. She was the one that got away, if you will.

I had a good friend, Jewels. We were really close, although Jewels was 3 years my senior, I was 17. Jewels had a crush on me and I never realized it. To this day, I can never tell when someone has a crush on me, until they admit it years after it's too late to do anything about it. We hung out constantly, and we'd talk on the phone for hours.

One night, I called her house and a gal answered. She didn't sound attractive. We talked for over 2 hours about random literary items, including jokes we both thought were funny. When Jewels finally snagged the phone from Mitch's hand, she told me to not do that. I had no idea.

I saw Jewels that weekend, and inquired about Mitch. "She's fat." How fat? "Fat enough." Oh.

A few days later, Mitch called me on my phone. This was before Caller*ID, so I had assumed Jewels gave her my number. I later discovered she stole it from Jewelz' daytimer. Quality. Mitch and I spoke on the phone for hours for 2 weeks. Not every day, but at least a few times a week. I never wanted to meet her, because of my superficial lack of respect for large women (in terms of dating, not necessarily for friendship).

Many weeks later, after our phone calls had subsided for who-knows-what reason, I was at the local movie theater meeting Jewelz and a bunch of her gal-pals. Immediately I ended up talking to the prettiest, tallest gal there (of course). We spoke for about 20 minutes when the gal goes "Waitaminute, you're not Sane, are you? Jewelz' friend?" Ummm, yeah, what did she say about me? "Nothing. I'm Mitch!"

Flabbergasted. That's what I was. I went from a sly, confident 17 year old into a blubbering, salivating idiot. She laughed. "What's wrong?" Ummmmm, you're not fat. Note: I never say "umm." Ever.

"Who said I was fat, Jewelz?" Yes. "She has a crush on you I think." Oh. It made sense, really it did, but I denied the crush for many years. So Mitch and I talked, deciding to skip the movie that everyone was seeing and see an artsy flick starting in 20 minutes. Jewelz was NOT happy, but she let it go.

We had our movie date, and after the date we went for coffee. I walked her home (she lived in my parent's home town) after we shared a cab to that coffee shop. At her door, she looked at me longingly so I kissed her. She practically melted in my hands.

That spring, I asked if she wanted to go out more often, and she jumped at the chance. Mitch was the prettiest gal I had ever dated, and possibly to this day the prettiest gal I had ever seen. Over time, we shared our lives with each other. She was a model who actually traveled for shoots. She finished high school through tutors, and was pursuing a slow college degree in management so she could start her own model management company.

And she was adorable. I fell for her hard, not because of her looks, but because of her person. When we'd talk on the phone, I still pictured her as a slothy, unattractive, overweight gal. In person, she blew my mind with her muscular but feminine frame. She towered over me in heels, and neither of us minded.

We kissed, often. We held hands, constantly. I met her parents and they loved me to death. At 18, I started my direction to do the job that I do, traveling the world in search of customers. Her parents were in the airline industry, so they traveled as well, and we shared stories of odd airports and odd cities and odd customs.

Around 2 months into dating, she took her shirt off for the first time. I almost came in my pants her body was so perfect and gorgeous. When I went for her bra hooks, she pushed my body back for a moment and looked at me and then admitted it: "I'm a virgin." Uhhhh, no you aren't. "Yes I am." Uh oh.

So I refrained from removing her bra, and continued to just kiss her. The bra came off, eventually, and it was when I had learned that letting a woman lead by her showing HER desire is a good thing. It's not a hard and fast rule, but it's a rule that keeps women wet and wanting me constantly, and not just in bed. Mitch admitted to me that she would've had sex with me that night she wanted me so badly. We didn't fuck, but we did spoon naked. It was lovely, and my adoration for her grew.

She traveled, often, for work. She'd bring to my house photo shoots and final products. I never really had a problem with her career: models have a short-lived job life, and many end up falling away from good incomes quickly in life. She pursued college so she'd have a reason for the hard life of traveling for photoshoots, being a puppet and a doll.

I was the first person she gave head to. It took some training. She had her first orgasm with me (first other than her own) and she delved into masturbating more on my request. She loved my body, she worshiped my odd face and my short height. She adored the fact that I adored her over her mind and her passions and not her body or her face. To be honest, I am superficial, but I am more attracted to passions than looks. There are many, many gorgeous women who I wouldn't even kiss, because they have no goals, no passions, no desires.

But still, there was no sex. I had decided to do things correctly...

Continued in the next part.

She's gained weight, lost her sexy?

Seems the 3 or so guys who read this site (tell your friends, boys) prefer to email me than leave comments. If you have a Blogger account and want to leave a comment without it pointing back to your Blogger account, just use the Anonymous feature or Name/URL. It works fine and you stay anonymous.

One regular reader emailed me yesterday regarding my post about keeping a woman's sex drive high by doing unsexy things. His email said:

I love my wife and want to have more sex, but she's gained weight. How do I keep thinking about her rather than other women?

Honesty is good and this is a problem a lot of men face, married or not.  As I've said in previous posts, the first thing to work hard to do is get rid of the porn.  Porn is a great part of my life, but I'm single.  When you don't have a woman's body to release into (or on, in my case), porn is a very distant second place.  If you do have a woman in your life, porn should hit the road.  Increasing your own sexual desire can have an effect on her, if you focus that desire properly.

But what do you do when your size 4 princess became a size 12 queen?  The first thing to do is look at your own body: did you gain weight, too?  The pot calling the kettle black is a problem we guys face that is hard to realize.  When I gained weight many years ago (in a long term relationship), I didn't even notice it until I hit 30# over my ideal weight.  It took seeing a photo of me to say "Wow, I'm fat!"  She had gained a lot of weight, too, but I didn't bring it up.  Instead, I curbed my starches and sugars, picked up a set of cheap weights at Target ($20 maybe), and spent 10 minutes a day on my upper body.  Not a lot of work, but enough to get some definition going under my layers of fat.

I burned off those 30# in about 12 weeks, and I added enough definition that she noticed.  She was touching me more, and whenever I was working with my shirt off, she noticed definition in my back.  Many women will find a man's back muscles more attractive than arm, pec, or ab muscles.  It's an odd internal glitch in our ladies.

Once you've tackled the porn situation and focused on your own weight gain, you can work on the next step: make her sexy in your mind.  Porn can be a great burden on finding real women attractive.  All models are airbrushed, even the so-called amateur teens (most likely 25 year olds with makeup and good lighting).  Once the porn is out of your system, how about using HER pictures for the times you're alone in the bathroom or the bedroom and need to take care of your own needs?  I'm not talking about raunchy photos or nudes, just photos of her when you found her most sexy: that smile, working in the garden, or the candid shots taken from when you were dating.  Even if she's gained 50#, she's still the same sexpot you knew years ago.  Use it to your advantage.

There's a funny side effect of using your own lady to jerk off to: if she catches you, she'll get really mad and then when she finds the source of your passion, she may be out of her clothes in 5 minutes flat.  That'll solve your problem then and there.

I still believe that masturbation when you're sexually frustrated in a relationship is a bad idea for men.  It does reduce our sex drive quite a bit.  Fighting the urges give you a little more drive to find a solution to your predicament.   So far, I have had 2 long term relationships where the sex drive dried up because we were both so busy.  I put that to an end by working discretely to find a way to make time.  The best thing I had ever done was remove the TV from the bedroom and living room.  Grab some books or magazines to replace it.

If you don't waste 3 hours a night watching Friends and Will & Grace re-runs, you might be surprised that both your bodies respond to the boredom with a desire for sex.  Instead of watching TV, grab those books or magazines.  Give her short glances and watch her read (it's very very sexy).  She'll catch you and might take the hint that you do find her sexy.  It might not be great sex (that's your doing, fellas), but it's sex.  Getting your foot in the door (or something else) is a good way to getting your future sex life comfortable.

Her weight gain should not be a problem for sex.  The biggest turn-off is not weight, but how she dresses and carries herself.  If you can approach her body, in clothes, without seeming horny or gross, she'll still melt for you.  Don't be afraid to hug her regularly in thanks.  Don't be afraid to take a photo of her today for your wallet and one for your desk at work.  If she complains about being overweight, tell her that she's lovely and you're just as into her now as you were then.  If you dumped the porn, started jerking to her photos, and are working on your own weight problem, you'll mean it.  She'll believe you.

Lastly, kiss her more in the morning before she's fully awake.  No, not tongue-down-the-throat kisses; just smooch her forehead (or her hair even), stroke her hair, run your fingernails on her shoulders and arms and hands.  Non-sexual touches for men can be discrete sexual advances in the woman's heart and loins.  Morning sex is always a fun side project, which can satisfy both of you for the turbulent day of responsibilities ahead.

Reminding her of her needs in the bedroom

This is part of an ongoing series on dating (even in marriage).

I was a little bit shocked a few weeks ago when I started to see more married women visiting this site, emailing me questions and sending me really positive criticism or even compliments. I don't write for you, I write for me, but I absolutely love the input. It helps me more than you can ever know.

When some people said they visited from another Momblog, I decided to take a look. As luck would have it, she had given me a link and a really nice run of compliments. I'd like to address some of that today.

She says,

But it also reminded me of a few things I had forgotten. Things about passion and lust and meeting needs and all of those things that we sort of check at the door when we start a family.

This is something that aggravates me about marriage lately: checking your needs at the door when it comes to raising kids.  Yes, kids are a handful.  Life is expensive; both time and money are needed in great quantity.  Responsibilities inside and out of the house are just overwhemling sometimes, and it leaves little time to dress sexy or even find the energy for sex once you both put your heads to the pillows.

That's all bullshit.  I'm sorry, but stop.  You're passing this on to your children, and it's going to make their lives WORSE than yours.  I'm not calling anyone out in particular but the men in the relationships.  Men, it is our duty to encourage a sex drive in the women we love, or at least the women we're with.

You don't encourage a sex drive by grabbing their tits and ass and saying "Wanna screw?"  You know when you do that?  When she's already crazy about you in bed.  And here's a little secret: no matter how tired and overworked a woman is, a positive sex drive can erase all of the frustration and tiredness.

Want to increase her sex drive?  Stop trying to be sexy.  Get rid of your porn, first.  I love porn, and use it when I really need fast release.  If I'm with a woman sexually and regularly, the porn hits the road.  "But I'm not getting laid!"  Of course not, all that incredible sexual tension you have could be shared with her, but you're leaving it on a Kleenex when no one is watching.  Stupid, stupid motherfucker (literally, in the case of you dads).

Want to increase her sex drive?  Do things without her knowing (other than masturbation, which you shold do with her knowing and her starting first).  Take the trash out BEFORE she asks, and don't even mention it.  Try to cheat on your porn and your sports games with household tasks.  I'm not kidding, you morons.  Women will catch you in the act eventually.  Don't be all cutesy and try to get her to notice, just do it.  Those socks on the floor?  Make them disappear forever.  Ram it into your thick skull that socks on the floor are things that 3 year olds do.  Go from foot to hamper.  Don't let her see you do it.

How about the crap in your office or studio that is everywhere? Organize it little by little.  Don't do it all at once, make it disappear in about 2 weeks.  Don't add more, and take away a little at a time.  The garage you've been promising to organize?  Clean that up too, chump, but do it slowly, so she doesn't notice all at once.

If a bulb is blown, replace it before she ever knows.  Imagine how less stressed your gorgeous wife (and maybe your kid's mom?) will be if she never sees a blown lightbulb.  You can go a step beyond this, too: pay the bills when you see the envelope open on the kitchen table.  Just sneak it out when she's not looking, put a check in the mail, and file it away wherever she files it away.  If she asks, just say you took care of it.  Don't say when, don't say why, don't say how.  Just do it.

When she's cooked you dinner and you've finished it, rather than hitting the living room, go and clean the dishes and pots and pans.  Then take out the trash immediately.  Do you know that garbage can be thrown out BEFORE the bag is full?  Try it, it's not against the law.

Ok, men, so now we've worked at reducing their stress level about 3%.  It's miraculous what it will do to her life.  She sleeps 6 hours a night, so 3% of 18 hours is about 30 minutes.  Guess what you can do in 30 minutes?  No, not yet, but it's a window of opportunity.  You've got a new step to take: touch her.

I don't mean tits and ass you celibate pervert, I mean touch her in a way that counts.  The next time she tries to fly past you in route to wipe up baby puke from a bib, stop in front of her and look at how beautiful she is.  Her eyes and her face, bubba.  If she gets mad, grab her hands, stare at that gorgeous face and smile.  Don't say a word.  "I love you" is a ridiculous thing for a man to say.  I only say it in response to the same.  Don't tell her she's beautiful, SHOW HER you think that.  If she hits you for blocking her vomit run, laugh.  When she walks past you, THEN check out her ass when she's not looking.

If you have to stare at your wife's body, do it in a way where she can catch you but it could be a mistake.  Act smitten (trust me, you'll become smitten doing this).  Peek at her through reflections in mirrors or windows.  Don't stare, just peak.  If she catches you, smile.  If she doesn't, look away fast.  Getting busted acting like a 15 year old with a crush can send those floodgates pumping.

A woman who has forgotten her sexuality gets there because her man is a boy, or maybe a eunuch.  You are probably one or the other.  Words don't work here.  Grabbing her inappropriately has the oppositive effect because she'll think "Great, this guy fucked me for all of 7 minutes, and now I have a kid because of it." Sorry, but quickies will get you babies.  Long, drawn-out, passionate lovemaking with days and days of build up and cute glances and lust in HER eyes will be something she equates with personal feminine release, not masculine release that ends up making her feel fat and want to suck on rocks from the garden for 9 months.

If you don't understand a word I'm saying, drop me an email with your address and your work hours.  I'll fix her for you.