It happened three times this week.

Three different times, three different men texted to tell me they could not keep their commitment to meeting with me.

Two gave me a couple of hours notice.  One gave me minutes to inform me he was painfully tired and could only have a couple of drinks.  I told Mr. Young we could skip it and he took the option.

If you need a man to leave you alone, just call me.  Let me at him for a week or two and he’ll never bother you again.

I promise.

Just call me Man DDT.

I walked to my favorite bar after I got my bra back from Mr. Young. Wasn’t gonna waste a shower.

I don’t know what to say.

This will be short.  Peyton is in the shower and the dog needs to be let out.  The Neighbor seems to have stopped stalking me on AFF, which is nice; I’ve bought a ticket to Eroticon 2016, which is giving me heart palpitations.  Anyone want to donate to my travel fund?; and I’ve suddenly run out of things to say here.

It’s not that I don’t have thoughts and feelings, it’s just a little complicated.  I’ve promised a piece of writing for someone else (my first guest post) and everything I’m thinking and feeling should go into that, not into little fragments here.  It’s also complicated because I’m trying to be patient with my feelings.  Maybe he’ll come through, maybe he’ll show up figuratively speaking.  Of course “he” here isn’t just one man, but multiple.

The thing of it is, I’m not at all sure what men think and I’m even less certain of what they think about me.

I feel like a blind woman on a ship at sea in a storm.  In other words, I feel wholly incapable (no offense to the blind people out there who steer ships through storms).

I wait, I rush, I open up, I close down.  Nothing seems to work to wriggle out of a man a little human decency and respect.  I don’t speak their language, clearly.  I know enough to know that I can’t control others, only myself, but it’d be nice to have a 1 + 1 = 2 equation from time to time in regards to dating.  You know, I do a nice thing equals a nice thing back.  I text, he texts back.  I enjoy the sex and want to have more, he enjoys the sex and wants to have more.  Instead the equation looks more like this: 1 + 1 = hahaha FUCK YOU.

So, yeah.  I have nothing to say at the moment, but didn’t want continue to ignore my favorite place in the whole world: this blog and all of you.

I’ll be back soon, I promise.