This is embarrassing, as I am sort of falling for BV, but I am dating a lot.  When I say a lot, I mean A LOT.

Five different men in seven days, four of whom I kissed.

The past week:

Friday

I met up with PR, my Punk Rock ceo darling ex.  As usual, I was his band girlfriend, hanging out with him before and after the show.  As usual, he made his intentions known.  As usual, we ended up kissing goodnight.  As usual, he called me darling.  (I wrote an entire post about this I should publish at some point.)

Saturday

I canceled a date with a video game designer as my period had kicked in and I felt just awful.  I also canceled a date with my designated hitter . . . the friend of a friend I’ve been sleeping with since BV and I split up.  He was supposed to have spent the weekend with me while FM was out of town.  I spent the day on the sofa, writhing in pain.

Sunday

I had brunch and did an art show with my Brunch Date, the think tank executive who reminds me of BFD.  After date two, I am convinced he put me into friend zone, especially after he showed me his house and still made no move.  Sigh.

On Sunday night, I saw the friend of a friend.  He came over to watch the late football game, as he does nearly every week.  He’s insignificant in my life, but we have great chemistry . . . and he’s 29 and works out a lot.

Monday

I met up with the Bon Vivant, kissed him, made some rather important commitments (although, not, notably, to each other regarding our relationship) and spent the night in his bed, in his arms.

Tuesday

I woke up with the Bon Vivant. He told me he loved me as he kissed me goodbye, and then climbed into his cab.

I went out with my friends (FM, PRX’s BFF, and his former bandmates) at the same bar I’d been with BV the night before.  I was exhausted and a little freaked out by everything that had transpired.

Around 9, the College Professor started texting me and wanted to come over. We flirted, and I said no, but not a firm no.

Wednesday

I stayed home alone, although I continued to talk to the College Professor via text.

Thursday

I went to a huge party with FM, the Tattooed Brunette, my best girlfriend RA, the Software Developer, and about 10 other very close friends.  I had invited the Brunch Date, who showed.  He’s such a great guy and I think he clicked with my girlfriend the tattooed brunette.  We shall see.

Also, at the party, a rather important executive woman asked me, “how do you know [PR’s band]?” I said, well, I dated one of them.  She asked which one, as she had worked with two of them.  I said, “PR” and she gave me the “really?!  him?!” that everyone always gives me.  He’s a notorious playboy, and I am both older and considered much more attractive than he.  But, still, she said, well, I guess I can see it, in that way that everyone always says when they really mean “uh, no.”  Sigh.

I always hate those conversations because people always judge you by your romantic partners, who you choose to date saying so much about who you are in the world, I suppose.  And, at times, I date people others would find surprising: PR, who was once referred to in a national fashion magazine as both endearing and an asshole (he is, indeed, both); BV, who my friends think is awesome and hilarious, etc., and yet, at 10 years my junior, perhaps a surprising choice; etc.  You expect me to be with BFD or LP or any of my distinguished rock star exes, but probably not a much younger, wildly successful guy you think is not handsome enough, too?  Weird.

After the party, the college professor invited me over “to cuddle,” which is exactly what I did.  I showed up at his house, he led me to his dark bedroom, and I spent 90 minutes cuddled up with him, eventually making out with him, with the proviso we’d not be having sex.  Which we didn’t.  He wanted me to spend the night.  I begged off, and had him drive me home.

Also last night, I mentioned to my best girlfriend RA what had happened with BV.  She handled it really well.  She was very supportive about it.  She believes I know what I am doing.  As do I.

I had a nightmare last night that I saw BV walking out of a restaurant we’ve been to before, which he and I each frequent separately (and where I’d been having drinks with FM that evening).  He was in a navy blue long-sleeved t-shirt, and he walked out of the door and I called and then chased after him but didn’t find him.

I am afraid he is actually in town, that he never got on the plane.  It scares me for two reasons.  First, I am concerned about him and the ENTIRE reason I persuaded him to go home is so that he could get his head straight. Second, if he’s in town, and he is not telling me he’s in town, then things have gone horribly awry with him and with us.

I already checked my phone to see if I somehow had his best friend’s number in my phone from when we met in August.  I don’t, but I’d be tempted to text him at least to say, please tell me BV is home.

I nearly counted the windows up to see if his lights were on.  I told RA that’s what I was thinking, but we both knew that was borderline stalkerish.

I sent him a text yesterday, a simple, hey I got a thank you email from that party we crashed on Monday.  No response.  Not unusual for BV, no matter what, but I am slowly freaking out about it.  And trying really hard to keep it together.

And, in the interim, I am going out on dates with other men, filling the hours.

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