The Booty Call

For the past month, I have been struggling to determine which direction to take this blog into – love (or lack there of), moving (presently: still), politics (ew), or sex and dating (hmm…).  For over a year, my life was focused on moving and where to go next – where I belong.  Not to say I have exactly tackled that notion but for the moment, I am content.  What happened last week seems to be a natural transition into some moderate level of relevancy in my life.  This is happening.  I am single.  Lord, save us all.

Being single marks a strange turn in my life.  Yes, I did it for the past year but let’s face it, I was living with my mother.   If you knew her, you would understand the responsibility it takes to peacefully coexist with that woman on a daily basis is an entity unto itself.  Prior to living with A, I was with The Ex.  It’s difficult to even remember life before that so naturally to be alone (finally), has presented itself with a strange level of challenges and triumphs.  And I must say, I am relishing in this single embodiment.  My apartment is currently a disaster but it’s all my mess.  I occasionally allow Skordo to sleep on my bed with me.  I have been watching seasons of House for over three weeks now and dammit, I pity the person who tries to alter my remote control state of mind at 1AM on a Tuesday.

Then comes the bizarre scene that is dating.  Allow me to make this clear: I hate dating.  It’s confusing, annoying, I can never figure out what to wear and is there protocol on what I am supposed to eat when out to dinner?  My last name is Burger.  I eat.  A lot.  I refuse to nibble on a salad just to look dainty.  Embrace me and my cholesterol level.  I hate the awkward first kiss, the “when should I call/text?” game (which is an entirely annoying system unto itself), and the general game that dating is already.  One would think that you could sell yourself better than a used car salesman sells a car.  No.  This is not the case.  Or maybe my forehead is still reading: I am judging you for your continual truncation in text messages, your clear needy behavior (I get it, you’re single.  I am too.  I’m planning my week, not my year.  And no, I’m not ready to meet your mother), and I know if we were to have sex, I would probably not want you there in the morning.  Wow.  This is hardly an online dating profile…

And then comes sex.  We have all been there.  There is an undying level for intimacy that doesn’t pass whether you are single or attached.  Many of my single friends (excuse me, the three of them) and I all have that go-to for, well, sex.  It works.  It’s emotionally painless, and requires little to no effort on a grandiose scale.  But what happens when someone new suddenly makes you into the booty call?  Someone you may very well be interested in and willing to pursue on a further level?  Someone you would actually want there in the morning to have coffee with?  My married friends, I commend you.  Still not jealous, but good work.

So I am at work on Thursday night.  It’s moderately slow and I look over and see the tell-tale red light flashing on my phone.  This is normally a spam e-mail at this hour so I was pleased to see the text message icon flashing.  Let’s call him CH (gold star to the first person to figure that out).

CH: Hi

Me: Hey.  How are you?

CH:  I’m good – you?

Me:  Working

CH: Stiff drinks for us then huh?    haha

Me:  Yes, absolutely.

CH:  When you off? (This needs a verb!!!!!)

Me: No later than midnight.  Too late?

CH:  Probably not text me when ur done. (Again, truncation…painful)

Many of you are probably already catching the error here.  And yes, I did too.  Immediately.  But in my work mind, I kept going until I realize oh shit, this is a booty call.  I get off work and am home in bed (alone) by one.

2:41AM CH: You up?

No.  I am not awake.  Nor am I going to wake up, get in the shower and shave my legs only to get off, get a couple hours of sleep, and do what I know to be the walk of shame to my car outside your very nice waterfront condo.  Herein lies the problem:  I liked this individual.  Not that I want to dive into some massive relationship but I would have pursued a few more evenings and the “let’s see where it goes” game.  Yeah, I can put myself out there for that.  I think I can handle it.  So how do you appropriately tell someone you don’t look at them as the booty call without scaring them off?  I have other people I can call if it’s just that.  I just like being near you.  And for some reason that makes me want to gather the answer, you intrigue me.  This is Mary, signing off from Disasters in Dating.  I’m not shaving my legs for a week.