As of now, I am still in a relationship with AM. As of now he is also in a relationship with another person.
I got a text from him last week while he’s away visiting family.
“Just because I don’t always call or text, doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of you.”
He hardly ever texts while he’s away because he likes to be off the grid. And the fact that he texted me that was groundbreaking.
“I miss you.” I texted.
“I miss you too!” He replied back.

I felt a moment of happiness seeing that, but my mind goes to “He’s probably texting her the same thing.”

Does 4.5 years matter to him? Did everything we went through mean anything to him? Those Covid years, the years of seeing him every week consistently- the way we kiss, the passionate sex, going to shows, laughing, getting drunk, our long talks late into the night. Does it mean anything to him? I’m not sure. Is what I value what he values?

He tells me that “I don’t have to worry” But I do worry. Do I trust him? Sometimes. He’s never done anything that was untrustworthy, he’s always been consistently trustworthy. But yet, I feel a sense of dread in me. I’m scared. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to get hurt. But I love him. I love him so much it scares me.

I hate rollercoasters. Aside from the fact that I’m deathly afraid of heights, I also hate the feeling of going from a sudden high to a sudden low. You coast through the flat parts knowing what’s about to come and you can feel yourself slowly ascending to the top of a hill, and the momentum builds until you reach the top. It pauses slightly before hurtling down, and you scream. Your body feels as if it’s about to be wrenched from your seat as nothing but a thin buckle keeps you anchored in place. And as you reach the bottom, you feel drained, the feeling of almost dying to death electrocutes your body.

I rather prefer the carousel. It’s like riding in a dream. Pastel painted horses prancing slowly to music. The pace is gentle and kind. But carousels are for children. And life is not gentle nor kind.

AM told me that he’s dating someone else- and that he wants to try being polygamous and still wanted to be with me at the same time. I felt like was riding the rollercoaster, at the top of the hill, paused, and looking down on the inevitable ride down. I felt my breathing become panicked, my body felt as though it was about to die. We never did talk about being exclusive, in all those 3.5 years of dating.

There was a bunch of other things that we talked about and he became vulnerable, we spoke honestly for the first time. But I could feel all my old demons coming back. “I’m not good enough,” one said. “He’s going to use then leave me for her.” said another, “Don’t trust him, he’s like the rest of them.” one whispered. AM told me over and over, “You have nothing to be worried about” Tell that to my demons.

I’m tired. I keep going back and forth on what I should do. Should I leave? Or should I take a risk and try this? I think back on the 3.5 years we had, and he has been nothing but consistent and honest. On one hand this could make our relationship stronger, on the other, it could break it. I don’t know if I’m ready to ride the rollercoaster. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough.

My dad died when I was 8 years old. I only remember little snippets of of him, and they look like old polaroid pictures in my mind. I remember he was intelligent and soft spoken. I remember him in his Army uniform carefully polishing his black boots with black polish that he warmed up with a bic lighter. I remember my dad taking me to collect caterpillars in an old mayonnaise jar watching them spin their cocoons, then later releasing them as beautiful monarch butterflies. I remember I was a daddy’s girl.

Every night we’d have this ritual when he’d tuck me into bed.

“Goodnight, I love you..”
“I love you”
“I love you too”
“I love you more.”
“No, I love you morer”

When my dad got sick, no one could really tell me what was going on. He would go in and out of the hospital. At that time, because my dad was in the military, he’d be away weeks at a time, so I was used to it. When he would come home from the hospital it was like he was back from one of his Army trips, except he wouldn’t have a souvenir like a large Turkish dollar the size of stationary or a doll dressed in a kimono. He’d just be very tired sleeping on the couch the whole day with my mom feeding him and fussing over him. Then one day, my dad got a fever so bad, my aunt and my uncle had to fill our bathtub with ice and have him lay in it while they called the Veteran’s Hospital. I am not sure, but I think that was the last time I ever saw my dad.

I read a book recently called The Loss that Is Forever and it basically talks about how children develop ptsd after losing a parent. I never thought that I was that particularly affected by my dad’s death, but lately I’ve been realizing that the trauma I experienced has been affecting me throughout my life. This is especially apparent in my relationship with men.

Men, in my mind, always leave. Don’t get close to a man, because they will disappear.

In my relationship, I was always waiting for them to disappear. And because I knew they would leave, I would not let myself get too close to them, and I would always be prepared.

One time after not hearing from AM for four days, I wrote him off as gone and I was devastated. He clearly died- or maybe ghosting me. AM texted me after a few days apologizing and explaining that he got caught up working on a big painting- and when I said “I thought you were ghosting me” He asked, “Why would I do that?” He’d been consistent for 2 straight years and wouldn’t just disappear. “I don’t know..” I replied, “I just feel like you might disappear.” He didn’t understand that they all eventually disappear, and you will too, I wanted to add. Sometimes, I like to delete his contact information on my phone, just to prepare myself. My therapist made a really sad face when I told her that. I know it’s sad, I thought to myself, but I just don’t want to be surprised… again.

Who: AM (Early 40’s, Aquarius, Artist, The Last One Standing)

I met AM sometime in late 2018 while I was going through my “experiment” of power dating (and sleeping) around. At first, nothing really stood out to me, in fact, he really wasn’t my type. Blonde, blue-eyed, a bit of a bro- but with better music taste. To me, he seemed like he just arrived from a small town in Indiana that still had a Soda Fountain shop and a Woolworth’s. I didn’t really think much after the date except that he seemed like a nice, normal, but slightly boring guy- and left it at that.

He would randomly text me to hang out and invite me to shows. At that time, I had been involved with MM (and 3 other guys) and also involved in 3 music projects, so my life was very busy. I barely paid any attention to AM and really didn’t bother getting to know him other than casually. One random night after going to a show, I decided to see if I could sleep with him… and I did. It wasn’t very mind blowing, or eventful. In fact, it was awkward and he wasn’t very good.

Because he lived near me and it was convenient, we’d hook up and hang once in a while. The sex got better but it was like McDonalds coffee. Not the best- but you drink it anyways because it’s the nearest thing. Sometime around the 4 month mark I had to end it with AM because I was going through some heavy trauma with MM (more on that later). I reconnected with AM 3 or 4 months later hooking up again, and then… the pandemic hit.

There was a lot that happened those 3 years. It’s too much to write and process, but basically what happened is that I got to know AM. What happened was that I started to really like him. What happened was that I let myself become soft and vulnerable for the first time in my life.

We’re dating, but not exclusively. I am not seeing any one else. I can’t possibly.

I told myself that after this, I’m done. I can’t take any more.

He’s the last one standing, and the last one I’ll ever let in.

Who: Chef (OKC, 48, Aquarius, Professional chef and Former James Beard winner)

Where: A small restaurant in Williamsburg

When I think of chef, I don’t like to think about the bad things that happened. Instead, I like to remember the first time I saw him. I had first connected with him on OKC in early 2016, and though our messaging was sparse, I already knew I liked him. He was the first guy I asked out. “What are you doing on Thursday?” I asked, “I’m going to xxxx restaurant, care to join me?” “Sure!” he replied, “I’m coming from work :)”

“Bring your chef uniform!” I joked. But actually I wasn’t- I have a thing for chefs. Perhaps it’s because I wanted to be one.

I was running there straight from band practice. I was 10 minutes late- but he texted he grabbed us a table. It was 9 pm and eerily quiet. When I got close to the restaurant I could see into the window and saw him sitting and studying the menu. He was, quite frankly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. We had the best time talking about food then we moved on to drinks at a nearby bar. I leaned over to kiss him and it was like everything stood still for a brief moment. There was nothing else but me and him. We subsequently ended up dating for 3 months, and I can’t really get into too much detail, but I’ve never felt anything like that before. I let him in. I would have given anything to be with him and for the first time on my life, I looked at someone and wanted to have a life with them, marriage and kids. I would have given EVERYTHING for it. Things did not go well, and we stayed friends for almost two years, but it got to be an emotionally abusive relationship. “I love you” he would say, “I want to be with you…. but after I fuck more chicks” he’d add.

I cried so, so much over chef. I wanted to believe him badly- I let him fuck me over emotionally again and again. But in the end, it wore me down, and I had to cut him out of my life completely. I’m still getting over it and I promised myself that I would never let anyone get to me like that ever again.

I am a pessimist but I’m trying to, as of lately, not think so negatively- especially when things are going well. I always expect something bad to happen once I get too comfortable.

D is seemingly perfect. We’ve been out 3 times and every time we go out- I feel like I’m in a movie from the ’40s when chivalry was still alive. The sad part is I’m not used to this- it’s almost like I’m a rabbit that was locked in a cage for 12 years, while having mascara put on me 12 hours a day- then was suddenly let out into the outside world where lipliner on a rabbit is not a normal occurrence. D is a fucking gentleman. He took me out mini golfing, he bought me dinner, he MADE dessert, he opened the car door, he held out his hand to help me up a step. He dresses nice, he smells nice, he LOOKS nice. He is the hottest MAN I have ever gone out on a date with. But wait… there’s something else…

“Let me see it” I said after we finished dessert and a few cocktails, “I want to see ALL your tools.” D grabbed me by the hand and took me to his bedroom closet, then flicked on the light. There, on the far end of his closet, was a wall filled with bdsm paraphernalia- Ropes, collars, gags, whips, handcuffs, spreaders… you name it. “Oh hello…” I breathed, “Baby’s home!” I pushed D out of the closet and closed the door on myself- I could here him laughing on the other side of the door. When I opened the door he was unbuttoning his shirt, “Care to take a shower with me?” I just stared at him for a moment and stammered, “I uhhh.. hehheh” Jesus Christ this man is gorgeous. Ok play it cool, be calm. “Ok,” I said unbuttoning my dress, “You can soap me up.”

Two hours later:

You would think that, after all that- it would have been a mind blowing experience. But sadly, it was not. D blindfolded me, tied me up, lightly whipped me, etc.. But something about it was so contrived. It was almost to manual. He said he dommed lite because he knew it was my first time. But there was just something missing. Here was a rich, chivalrous, attractive man bdsm-ing me, and I hardly felt anything. It was too 50 shades a grey, it was too romantic, it was too sugary. I slept over, and he made me breakfast the next morning and we had a fantastic conversation about music and life. He dropped me off and told me, “till next time.” I’m not holding my breath- If I hear from him fantastic! If I don’t, then it’s ok. He’s too good to be true and I don’t think I can handle that right now.

To me, bass playing is a lot like swimming- If you panic, you could fuck up, or if you start to struggle, you can easily wear yourself out and drown. The best thing to do is: Don’t Panic!, Get yourself into a dead man’s float- arms out and your mind calm.

In the 8 years I’ve been playing bass I’ve probably played around 50-60 shows. I should be used to it by now, but I always struggle with anxiety and stage fright. I always have to psych myself out and try not to think about what other people might be thinking about me “Oh god she’s a terrible bass player.” “What is she wearing?!??” “She is a fucking hideous fat troll..” Yes, I think these things.

I played guitar in a few bands when I moved to NY 11 years ago. Back home, I played a lot of folky stuff then switched to electric after moving to New York. I grew up listening to classic county, but in high school I listened to mostly punk, post punk, goth, rockabilly, grunge and a lot of riot girl. My bff was in a punk band in SF and when he moved here, he asked me to play guitar. I switched to bass after two years to replace a flaky bass player who was in a ska band on the side.

It’s way harder then it looks… First off you’re the middleman between two personalities- the drummer and the guitar player who are, IMO sometimes diva personalities. You have to mesh two things together. You have to listen and observe, pick up on verbal cues- stand slightly back, sometimes in the shadows, so you can see and hear the entire band. Another thing about playing bass is that you have to be comfortable with yourself. Low notes are primal, it shakes people- it’s like a huge vibrating dick- You have to be fearless.

I’m not a very good bass player, but I’ve been learning and slowly getting better. Surprisingly, the bass playing is helping with the dating and vice-versa. I’ve been able to keep calm and relaxed (hard to do since I suffer from social anxiety.) I listen, I observe. Sometimes I get to use my big vibrating dick. But most importantly, I’m learning to be comfortable with myself- and being myself- and not worrying so much about what everyone thinks of me. It’s been a really hard and lonely road but my ultimate goal at the end is you he fearless no matter what happens.

I almost forgot about MM. I was hesitant at responding to his text- What could he want after 6 months?!?!

“Oh hey! Yea- I remember… how are you?” I texted back.

“I’m good,” MM said, “Hey I know this is weird- but I remembered you played bass and I’m looking to get back into music, would you be interested in jamming sometime?”

Oh god.. another one of these. I get these random texts time to time from old online dates who are musicians that either want do a “jam” session, or interested in starting up a band. I’ve done it a few times- but it never works out. But at that time, I had been toying with the idea trying to do my own music after 10 years of playing in other people’s bands.

“Ok,” I texted “Let’s do something next week.”

Our first practice was in Manhattan and we jammed for an hour. I decided to pick up the guitar and practiced a simple solo. Surprisingly, it went well- so we decided to do it again two weeks after that. I never thought about MM in a romantic way and never ever thought he was interested in me until about a few months later.

Where: A random practice space in Red Hook, Brooklyn

MM and I, for shits and giggles, decided to answer a Craigslist ad posted by a guitarist who was looking for a bass player and a drummer. “It’ll be fun!,” I said, “It could go either way- awesome and we’ll have other people to jam with, or terrible- and we’ll have a great story to tell!!” MM looked skeptical. It turned out that the jam session was awful, so awful- that we both had a hard time keeping a straight face. As we left the space, MM offered to drive me home. We got in his car and burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh god!” I sputtered, “I can’t believe how awkward that was! I need a whiskey shot after that!” MM laughed and turned on the ignition, “It was horrendous! I think I need a drink too, and talk more shit…but I don’t want to drink and drive though. Hey, my house is along the way and I have booze, want to hang out there?” I thought for a minute. Hmm seems innocent enough, if he was going to murder me- he would have done it by now.

MM and I are sitting on his couch, drinking gin and tonics and listening to music. We’re having a pretty good time talking music and just about anything we can think of. We have surprisingly a lot in common musically. MM is laughing and teases, “Well…did you notice that JL couldn’t stop staring at you?” I take another sip of my drink, “What do you mean? Like my bass lines were so awful that he was looking at me in shock?” MM got up to mix himself another drink, “No, he was totally checking you out! I think he likes you..” I blushed, “Uhhhh… No, I’m pretty sure I had something on my face or something- like a booger maybe.. god!! I don’t even know..” I trailed off as he lightly put his hand on my back and went around my seat to sit back down.” Oh. My. Fucking. God. I suddenly noticed how cute MM was. He smiled and squinted his eyes. He has really nice eyes.. blue grey. MM turned toward me and said softly, “I think we make a good rhythm section, you looked really hot tonight, I like your leather pants.” We leaned forward slowly and kissed.

It turns out we really do have really good rhythm together. It turns out that he has stuck around. It also turns out that I really, really like him. BUT… it’s complicated.- We’re not meant to be together.

He’s what I needed at that time, and I didn’t expect it to get this far- But it has. He helped me get over someone- and I used to jokingly say I was looking for someone to break my arm so I’d forget the pain of a throbbing toothache. But MM might be a full body cast. I’m not sure what else I can break to get over this one.

Who: D (48, Virgo, well-known Grammy nominated sound engineer, hot as fuck, loaded, wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy out of my league, and what the fuck is he doing going on a date with me????!?!)

Where: Some swanky bar in Midtown filled with gross Businessmen drinking dirty martinis and eating bloody steaks.

Here’s an embarrassing secret- I actually like the movie “Pretty Woman” starring Julia Roberts as Vivian, a hooker with a heart of gold who meets, on the streets of LA, Edward, played Richard Geare- a loaded businessman who is secretly unhappy with his life. Edward runs into Vivian when he borrows his friends Ferrari but doesn’t know how to drive it properly. She offers to show him how to drive it and also offers her “services”- and the rest is history. They fall in love, She learns how to do fancy things like eat escargot and shop on Rodeo Drive. She also teaches him how to be a normal non-rich human being like walking on grass without shoes on, and enjoying bubble baths. They live happily ever after- Pretty convincing plot line right?

I’m a few minutes late to the date because I had to come straight after practice. It’s humid, so I’m sweaty- and my hair is a hot mess. I have no idea what to expect. D messaged me on Tinder out of the blue.

“I find female bass players super sexy.” he wrote, “Hi.. ;)” Just for the record, I am far, faaaaar from “sexy”, in fact, I am super lame, awkward, and weird.

D’s photo seemed innocuous enough, they seemed like old photos. He was cute- but not really my “type”. We messaged back in forth for a few days until we finally exchanged numbers. “My name is Dxxxx Fxxxxxxx” he texted, “Want to grab a drink tomorrow?”

Bingo! Let’s look him up Google! Hmmm- oh wait a minute… *sees current photo of him with salt and pepper hair* holy fucking shit!!! He is soooooooooo hot- Hello Daddy… wait a minute *clicks on an article about him* No!!!!! he’s famous?!?!? Multiple articles of him pop-up mentioning him working with top artists, and, wait a minute… he won a Grammy? Photos of him at the Grammy awards with a semi-famous Hollywood actress appear. I can’t go out with this guy. He is way out of my league- I’m a nobody.

I sit there staring at my computer screen.

I hate the fact that I think like this. I’ve struggled with major self-esteem issues all my life- and one would think, that at this age, I’d have a handle on it. I’m a lot better than I used to be, but it still feels like it’s always there- hovering over me like a grey cloud.

I sit up straight and text D back, “Sure! where would you like to meet and what time?”

It’s starting to rain, and I’m carrying some gear since I’m coming straight from band practice. D texted that he just parked the car. Wtf he drove here?? I’m waiting, and trying to psych myself out of being so nervous.

He’s just a normal person- True, he is a Grammy-award-winning person, but he shits just like the rest of us…except maybe on a toilet made of gold…in a house filled with Grammy awards.

I can feel my makeup sliding off my face from the humidity, so I turn to look at my reflection in the glass to try and fix it somehow.

“Hello L…”

I turned around, and I kid you not, I almost gasped from his gorgeousness. He was impeccably dressed in a button down shirt. Oh god! Business casual. I mournfully stared down looking at my outfit, black shift dress, denim jacket decorated with pins of my favorite punk bands, and motorcycle boots. God, I am so out of place.

“Hi!” responded shyly, clutching my bag filled with bass pedals.

I’m sitting at this fancy businessman bar eating, drinking, and shooting the shit with D. We’re talking music. I find out how he started out in the industry and how he started his own company. He seems really down-to-earth and you know what? He’s gentlemanly. He’s attentive, asking me if I want another drink or if I’m ok with the food. He even sits up when I go to the restroom and moves my chair over for me when I’m about to sit back down. Who does this nowadays???? I’ve only seen this done in “Pretty Woman”!!!!!!

Finally, we’re winding down. I’m surprisingly comfortable around him, so when he leans over for a kiss, I don’t hesitate. “Need a ride home?” He says.

Upper West Side, NYC:

I am on a balcony that is overlooking the Hudson River. Every room in this apartment is immaculate and stylishly decorated for a minimalist look. Obviously I am not home. To make a long story short, I hook up with D. But it’s weird, he’s almost too perfect- like he popped straight out from a Harlequin romance novel. I go out on a second date with him a week later and find him to be genuinely charming, though a bit anal and maybe a tad bit boring and too eager to please in bed. It’s almost as if he’s a bit submissive. Ugh another one. This world is seriously lacking doms.

I don’t hear from D for over a week and I write him off. It’s ok, his perfection just stresses me out anyways. Until one morning I get a text from him, “Hi baby girl… ready to get tied up now? ;)”

Oh shit. How’d he know?!?!??

Hello!

You might recognize me from such roles as: The Ex who dated your current boyfriend for 8 years (as of 2 years ago), and, The Ex who helped him become a responsible adult by- helping him fix his credit, teaching him how to pay bills online, and, the Ex who put up with his grumpiness and general bitterness at life, and, the Ex who tried to open up his mind by taking him on-out-of-state trips, and, also- a starring role as the concerned Ex who encouraged him to pursue his art and who got him a job working at an art store when he was miserable at his job working at a liquor store. You might ask yourself, why did you stay with this role for so long? Well, I loved him, I believed in him, and I accepted and saw his bad side along with his good. I was with him for the long haul. In other words, I was an idiot.

Hello again!!

Let me tell you about his role. He is 44 year old man-child with no responsibilities, working with 23 year olds and living the “Williamsburg, Brooklyn lifestyle.” His life is filled with $4 Pabst beer and whiskey shot happy hours then going home to 700 square feet of living quarters, shared with two other roommates  (in which he had to throw away most of his comic book and toy collection because there was no room), $16/hr paycheck-to-paycheck, viagra popping, burned out, midlife crisis filled neurosis. And let’s not forget his starring role as: A cheating asshole!

He may or may not have mentioned it to you. And, if he did, I’m sure he said that he suffers incredible, incredible guilt. And, I’m sure he also says that we drifted apart- All of which is true. But that is no excuse for cheating on someone you claimed you “loved” or someone who did so much while expecting so little.

What is also true is that you will never get him to take anything seriously because of this one simple fact: He is a coward. He is scared shitless about being an adult. So unless you want to feel like you’re dating a teenaged boy- complete with his “art”-which is basically terrible, sad, and pathetic bdsm fetish illustrations that he has no guts to actually do himself irl. (Yes, the sex is, and will always be utterly boring and vanilla with him- you will always be the dominant one) I suggest you keep your options open and don’t waste your time with him. He will never, ever change. You will always be waiting for him to catch up. But hopefully, when you find out he’s a lost cause- it won’t be too late for you to start over again.