The Legos of Love

"I'm sad," I said.

'You're sad?'

"Yeah."

'Why are you sad?'

"Because the guy I really liked moved away and my Dad is having surgery. Everything sucks right now."

'We could go to Teardrop.'

Sheldon always knows what will cheer me up. 

Always. 

Months ago when I found out my Dad was sick it was right before a date with Ireland. 

In fact, I'm pretty sure that right as my Dad said the word "cancer" into the phone Ireland walked up. 

It was only our second date. 

I didn't know what to do. 

Crying in front of a total stranger is not exactly my ideal way of spending a date. 

But I was in Northeast Portland. 

I was at least thirty minutes away from home and I didn't want to leave.

So after I told Ireland the news I just changed the subject immediately.

Thank GOD I'm an actress. 

I don't know how normal people deal with life sometimes. 

Acting is my armor almost every day. 

I think that's why I was so sad when he moved. 

Ireland. 

His flight was the same day as my Dad's surgery. 

And he was standing beside me when I got the news. 

How could I not think we had some significant cosmic connection crossing our paths?

And it didn't help that he was the first man I'd been with since Sheldon. 

I didn't mean it to, but that made Ireland way more important than he should have been. 

So when Sheldon offered to treat me at Our Place, Teardrop, it was like he was offering to take me to Disneyland. 

Only instead of a castle and cartoon characters, it houses my favorite sazeracs and our happiest memories together. 

Teardrop was where Sheldon first said I Love You. 

And he didn't know, but it was also where Ireland and I had our first date. 

Ireland's idea. 

Another cosmic coincidence, I guess. 

We hadn't been there in months, Sheldon and I.

Ages. 

Not since my birthday, so like nine months. 

I felt loved even that he suggested going there. 

We've known each other almost three years. 

He knows me. 

When we got there he picked a table with a bench in the back so we could sit next to each other. 

If I didn't know better I'd say he was planning to seduce me. 

But that's always what my ego thinks. Everyone's in love with me and everyone wants to sleep with me. 

I know most of the time I'm right, at least about the latter, but I still feel like an asshole for thinking like that. 

Maybe they're just trying to be nice, Reese. 

I always call myself Reese whenever I screw something up. 

Way to go, Reese.

Nice one, Reese. 

I have no idea why. 

No one ever calls me that. 

If anyone ever did I'd probably think I was in trouble. 

'Did you hear me?' Sheldon woke me from my reverie. 

If people actually knew how many times I stopped listening to them talk and started having my own dialogue with my inner monologue instead I'd probably only have like three friends.

One of them would be my Mom. 

'I said if we were married I know what I'd get you for Christmas. Well, it'd be a sort of pre Christmas present. Like, maybe I'd give it to you around Thanksgiving.'

So many parts of what he just said made my mind reel. 

If we were MARRIED??

Where the hell did that come from?!

When we were dating he always said he didn't know if he EVER wanted to get married, let alone to me. 

Now he was planning presents for if we WERE married?

And not even for a holiday but for a PRE holiday?

What the hell could he be talking about??

"Ok. What would you get me?" I was dying of curiosity. 

'A Lego. Advent. Calendar.'

Sheldon smirked proudly. 

People think I'm exaggerating when they haven't met him but he is literally a real life Sheldon Cooper from 'Big Bang Theory.' 

And you know that smirk of a smile that Jim Parsons does when Sheldon is really proud of something?

That same smile was on my Sheldon's face. 

I tried not to laugh. 

"Why do we need to be married for you to give me legos? I thought it was gonna be something really romantic or really dirty. You're such a weirdo."

And for months, I sort of thought my birthday present was gonna be a Lego Advent Calendar. 

I'm secretly a five year old and it did look pretty cool. 

Every day leading up to Christmas you got to put together a little lego figure. 

And they were all really girly things too. 

A white kitty. 

A purple chair. 

Even the main girl on the box had red hair. 

Dammit, Sheldon. 

Now I wanted one. 

But I couldn't buy it for myself. 

He'd made such a big deal about giving it to me and I felt like I couldn't take that away from him.

Even though I really didn't know if he was gonna buy it for me anyway. 

And then earlier this week he confessed something. 

Everyone was sold out of the Lego Advent Calendars. 

How sweet, I thought. 

He's looking for one to buy me. 

But leave it to a guy to wait to the last minute to do something. 

I checked and he was right. 

Lego. Target. Walmart. 

No one had any. 

I was a little disappointed but it didn't really matter. 

It was silly anyway. 

Did I really need a Lego Advent Calendar?

And a couple nights ago he came over and told me Cartier had done something and I better take a look. 

Cartier went to the bathroom on the carpet for the first time since I've had him a few weeks ago and I'd become a paranoid android about it. 

"What did he do? Did he go to the bathroom on the carpet again?"

'You better come take a look.'

"Where?"

'Behind the couch.'

"I can't see anything!!"

'I think it's like, underneath.'

Frazzled, I pushed the couch forward and there it was. 

The Lego Advent Calendar. 

He'd found one. 

And he didn't want to tell me where but he left the price tag on. 

It was from the little indie toy store we used to always go to downtown by the food carts. 

I remembered suddenly how my Dad searched everywhere to find me a Little Mermaid Barbie doll when I was a little girl. 

'The Little Mermaid' was the 'Frozen' of it's time. 

And Mom said he went to countless stores before he finally found one. 

This was pre Amazon. 

I was so excited and so happy seeing that purple Lego box on my floor I felt like a giddy child. 

I couldn't believe it. 

For many reasons. 

I hugged Sheldon so tight I nearly squeezed him to death. 

'It's from Cartier,' was all he said. 'He left it for you.'

Because even when he wanted to do something loving, Sheldon wasn't comfortable with the intensity of his love. 

It's one of the many things I adored about him. 

And one of the many reasons we never worked as a couple. 

But love is often so very complicated. 

And I hadn't felt more loved by him than the night he took me to Teardrop.

Which is also the night he brought up the advent calendar in the first place. 

Which I know is another mere coincidence. 

Because Life is full of them. 

And they are grand. 

Confessions of a Bad Girl Part 1

Breaking The Rules. 

Is being Bad Better?

Part 1.

I spent my twenties as the queen of blue balls. 

I never had sex with guys right away. 

And if I'm honest?

I hardly ever had sex. 

I was a lady and I was searching for Prince Charming. 

And Prince Charming would never rush into having sex. 

He was a gentleman after all. 

And no man marries their whore. 

And then one day I turned 30 and I realized something. 

Prince Charming was really fucking late. 

Where the hell was he?

I never thought I would have sex on a first date. 

I mean hello?

That's for Sluts. 

Who does that?

You don't even know each other!

I mean. 

Gross. 

And then something in me grew curious one day and I decided I wanted to know what the fuss was about. 

So I had sex on a first date. 

And you know what?

It was really fucking fun. 

Sex with a stranger is definitely a different kind of high than sex with a crush. 

I'm not saying it's better. 

I'm just saying it's different. 

Somehow the stakes are raised and things are more unpredictable. 

You're seeing the inside of their room and their massive comic book collection all the while thinking, I didn't get a nerd vibe from him at all.  

So I had this first date that was unexpectedly fantastic. 

There we sat, him gazing into my eyes the way all guys do, as if to say, So you wanna? Huh? Come over? Now? How about now? Take your top off!

And my Ladylike Instinct kicked in, and said, No, You shouldn't. You shouldn't have sex on the first date. What if he never calls you again? You're setting yourself up to get hurt. 

And then suddenly I heard my voice say it. 

"Let's go."

We stood outside of the bar, kissing in the rain, like some scene in a movie, our mouths both in disbelief as they clung to one another that this was already gonna happen. Audible sighs escaped his mouth and I knew I was making him feel like it was Christmas. 

I left afterward. 

This was all new to me and spending the night felt like an even deeper level of intimacy I wasn't ready for. 

I fell down the rabbit hole yes, but I wanted to still be able to reach the rope so I could climb out. 

"You don't have to go, you can stay," he told me. 

'I know.'

But I wanted to go home. 

The next day I waited to hear from him. It's amazing what a difference good sex makes to forming attachment. Bad sex, we don't really care if they text us. But good sex, and we're looking at our iPhones so much it's like we just upgraded from a Blackberry. 

I wanted more. 

I gave it almost 48 hours and then I grew restless. I texted him a selfie. Because when a woman is seeking validation there is nothing like the subtle TELL ME I'M PRETTY! Selfie to get what you need. 

Immediately after I sent it my Ladylike Instinct kicked in again. 

Why did you do that? You know you're not supposed to contact him first. Let him pursue you! He is going to get bored with you and you're making it all too easy for him......

Sherwood Forest chimed in. 

He texted.  

**by the bye that is my favorite text tone for a guy. It literally sounds like the processional for, "hear ye hear ye, the Prince has arrived!"**

As we carried on with some trivial conversation about Halloween I started to feel another urge kick in. He'd told me he had to work late all week, as servers often do. And I wanted him to know I was down for a booty call because really that's how I'd saved him in my phone: GREAT LAY. 

But my damn Ladylike Instinct smacked me upside the head. You can't do that! Why don't you just tell him to think of you as his giant whore?! He is not even going to want you when you're making it so easy. What kind of relationship.....

And that was just it. I didn't know if I really wanted a "relationship" with this guy. 

Did I want him to be my relationship status on Facebook? 

Did I even wanna date exclusively? 

I'd had another great date the same week and had no idea where that would lead. 

I didn't really want to have to make a choice anytime soon. 

I kinda wanted a fuck buddy. 

So I sent him a text letting him know he should text me after work sometime. 

And he said that could be arranged.

And that's when it hit me.  

I was going to break ALL THE RULES. 

I was going to do everything wrong, everything all the books told me not to do and see what the hell would happen. 

Would the books be right?

Would I get my heart broken after he grew bored with me?

Would my feelings change as the sex continued?

I wanted to find out. 

And I decided I'd keep a blog about it while it happened so when it was over you could experience it with me. 

And decide if it was all really fucking fantastic or really fucking insane. 

He'd told me a story about his worst date ever and it was just a massive train wreck from the start. 

But he just kept hanging out with her, going from one venue to the next. 

"I just had to see what was gonna happen. I just had to know where the chaos would end!"

And that was the moment I thought, this kid's really gonna like me. 

Cuz I'm fucking insane. 

Men Don't Want to be Great Lovers

I've only had one great lover my entire life. 

I haven't been with an unconscionable amount of lovers. 

But I've known enough to know whose rubbish. 

Men. 

Are. 

LAZY. 

I blame myself, in part. 

It's all become too easy for them. 

The poor hunters are bored senseless. 

And to satiate their stirring they start their counter each night they go out:

Will I be able to get another one this night?

You see it's not that they aren't capable of great sex they just don't care about it. 

For men it's all about the quantity. 

Quality is a word they've never thought to even spell. 

Now quantity sex is fine. 

Lots of new partners has its appeal. 

There is a thrill in the unknown, the unexpected, not knowing what may or may not happen, being impulsive, giving in to your desires the second they pulsate through your body. 

Instant gratification. 

There's just one problem:

First time sex is never GREAT sex. 

Oh sure, it's fun. 

It's SEX. 

But you don't know each other yet, as partners. 

You haven't learned yet what really turns them on, which positions they like & despise, you may not even know their middle name. 

Shame on you. 

So maybe you'll dial them up again and even sleep together a second time. 

And second time sex IS better than the first. 

But it's still not great. 

And even if you think it's great, it's not as great as it could be. 

Because you both still haven't learned. 

How could you?

Learning your partner takes time. 

And this is the problem right here:

Men are not interested in giving you their time. 

They will give you their body, give you their bravado, they'll even happily give you their money, in shot after shot, if they think it will help their count tracker to increase. 

But once they've raised their number that's where they stop. 

Where are the great lovers?

I'm not looking for a boyfriend. 

I'm not looking for a husband. 

I'm looking for a lover. 

A real lover. 

Shouldn't that be what every man wants?

To be so insanely satisfying that every woman who crosses their sheets uses them as the compass for what it means to have great sex?

Shouldn't THAT be what makes men feel like men?

So the next date I want to sleep with I'm just going to say, Sure. Let's fuck tonight. And then I will assume since, I'm sure your experience speaks to this, that we may, at most, have sex another 2-3 times, mediocre at best, because you have no interest in getting to know me as a partner and what really turns me on, you just want to feel like a man & say you scored tonight. Your place then?

I blame Tinder, in part, for turning men into compulsive addicts, searching greedily for more, any, no specifics, no requirements, just someone else. Anyone, anywhere else. Their focus on the Now lasts 45 minutes. 

If you're lucky. 

The horrifying part of the app is that it shows right on your profile when you were last on. 

So you can see that the guy you hooked up with last week, was on 20 minutes ago. 

And you thought the reason he hadn't texted you back for the past few hours was that he was busy with work. 

It's a fucking joke. 

My real frustration is that I thought I'd found one, a lover, that is. 

Someone who had the potential to become great sex.

He made me laugh.

He was sweet. 

But he lacked time. 

I wasn't worth his time. 

One day a week. 

That's all I really even need, if I'm honest. 

Sure, more could be swell, but too much time turns into an obsession. 

Have a life.

Be busy. 

But don't put the fantasy before the real woman in your bed. 

I've been cast in the role of the Other Woman plenty of times. 

But at least that was opposite another warm body. 

Not an endless cyber void full of mostly cancelled dates & minimal sparks. 

To be given the fuzzy end of the lollipop because boys would rather gain notches than the skills to satisfy any of us is repellant. 

I cannot bear to get stuck with another man child. 

Where are the real men, the real men who know what it is to be a great lover?

I'd do him straight away. 

And twice in the morning.