Here's hopefully the last thing I'll mention about English Tom. He sent me an email when I was down in Arizona. Basically, it was a Dear Jane letter. It was long, it was drawn out, and it was complete and utter bullshit. But, I took it in stride, agreed to remain casual friends, and even sent him some pictures of my trip when I got back. It's a sad chapter to be sure, but the butterflies no longer plague my belly, and the hurt is slowly but slowly ebbing away, so I can't complain (too much).
Regarding moving on, last night, I met up with my prospective FWB, dubbed Marlboro Man 2 (or MM2) because he likes to smoke just like MM, the very first guy I ever dated off of OkC. Against my better judgement, I agreed to meet him for drinks AT HIS PLACE at 6p. I know. Insane, right? But, my gut said he was a good guy. Get this, he lives about 10 minutes away from me. I texted a girlfriend of mine when I found parking and then promised to text her again in 2 hours. I brought over a bottle of Syrah, a baguette, some salami, and condoms (because you never know). He drank bourbon on the rocks, I polished off my bottle of wine, dinner was the food I brought, and we proceeded to try and get to know each other. On a certain level, I think we did (no pun intended) because I didn't leave till about 10:30p and we talked a lot, so that's over 4 hours of conversation. MM2 is incredibly astute, which unnerved me at times. His bullshit meter was in tip top shape. I don't think I'd ever want to date someone like that because you feel very vulnerable and exposed. Whatever walls you're used to having up, you know in order to protect yourself, is quickly spotted and questioned. I've dated someone like him before and it made me quite neurotic. Basically, it always feels like you're unarmed in a battle of wits. But, as an FWB, I think he fits the bill very, very well. He's incredibly sexual. Very dominant. We didn't end up using my condoms (or his) but we did kiss and sort of grope each other once or twice and he's an amazing kisser. Possibly the best kisser I've ever met. We're talking the right amount of fervor, of tongue, of pressure. When he kissed me, he'd grab a handful of hair and firmly hold it. He wasn't pulling it, mind you. That'd turn me off. The firm hold indicated to me that he was in control and I loved it!
We did a bit of texting today but so far, no plans to meet up again. I'm sure it'll happen but I'd rather not initiate it. We'll see.
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