Well, that was disappointing. One disappointing interaction seems to have been swapped for another. History seems to be constantly repeating.
I reread the last messages we exchanged, and try not to let my brow furrow. (One tries not to when you can’t afford the botox). I am perplexed, and I suppose a little annoyed. At him, not me, for a change. Realistically with his 45 years, and my 34 I had thought us both more mature than this but clearly I was wrong. With anyone else, this would be the end. A faltering confused exchange (yes, I’ve been here before) and then the radio silence. As though he has been snatched up into another world, or in the case of those men I really couldn’t think the worst of. Dead. Yes. Back when this first started to happen, in the early days of me being overly enthusiastic, of wearing my heart on my sleeve, when these boys and then men, first started disappearing I really did think the worst. I didn’t realise then that what you like or love will run away when chased, and although I couldn’t see how a few texts were chasing, the realisation is dawning on me that less is truly more.
But Scott isn’t dead. Scott is all likeliness is probably painting. And by painting and just getting on with his life, Scott you are digging your own grave.
In truth, part of me would like an apology, because if this was a conversation in public, it really would look rude. But somehow with technology, manners seem to have gone to hell. So really I shouldn’t be surprised at all this now. By creating distance through messaging you protect yourself from harm, and in doing so, hurt others.
If this was anyone else, this would be the end of it. Like another casualty on the field of war, I would take the loss, tot it up and then proceed to swipe on this app or that. But as I lay in bed last night, the horrible realisation hit me. I wasn’t looking for potential on a dating app. I was looking for him.
Scott has been in my life since I was born. When I was a baby he was a teenager and now, even though the distance seems to shorten as you get older, at times I still forget that although he looks to be a man, inside he is still a boy. Age is but circumferences around the sun. It is hours breathing air and living, but that does not make you an adult.
When you realise that the earth doesn’t revolve around you. Then you start to grow up. But then you realise that to a point we are all winging it, and then you know the score. You may become an expert in your field, a master of your trade, but that doesn’t translate to an adult In the world.
I’m sad, of course, I am. I had hoped for more. For better than this. But really? Hasn’t my gut, my intuition been warning me that something wasn’t right? The old me, the hedonist, would have plunged in with no second thoughts. ‘Live life with no regrets!’ would have been her war call as she tore off his clothes, and began to ravage him. I would have seen this whole thing as my once chance and based my choices on the unknown and the known. The fact that he is single now, but might not be later. The fact I might die, the fact we all might. I was a girl who lived by absolutes and was passionate about my choices. It meant I saw and did quite a bit in my thirty-four years, but it came at a cost. There were tears, there were cuts and bruises, both to the physical me and to my heart. I was a ball of energy, a firework exploding this way and that. Sparks flying, colours burning. So much, so fast, so soon.
Years later and like a bomb, dust is still settling around me and those I love. Friends have come and gone, exhausted
It’s getting better. My intuition. Although, according to B, if I really want to make an improvement in my intuition I should stop having fluoride in my toothpaste. But that means another spend, and right now, I need to be trying to be sensible with my finances.
So what is to be done about Scott?
I want to message him;
I am bit disappointed that you disappeared on Sunday with no explanation. Unfortunately, it confirms my belief that as much as it would be fun to mess around, I think our interactions of an intimate nature are best kept at a distance in a party environment to avoid confusion and messiness. I want to be your friend. I am trying to be your friend. But it’s hard when communication dies without explanation.
I hope your week gets off to a good start.
But realistically? Realistically? Would that get me anywhere?
Realistically? Realistically? He is probably just busy, or self flagging himself for being so bad. Who knows, but he is unlikely to be dead unless painting fumes have got to him.
What happened if you are interested is this.
On Sunday morning, after such fun and frolics on Saturday evening, I started the day by sending a selfie. The kind of selfie, which I believe is artistic. Soft lighting, good angles, and taken in my bra.
[10:48 AM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: Have a great positive and productive day x
[10:54 AM, 6/30/2019] Scott: Thank you. You too.
[10:55 AM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: And don’t worry 😉 you’ve been Captain Sensible for a long time, I can wear the uniform for a bit now 😉
I am trying to make it clear that one of us knows what they are doing. I hope he gets the hint that I like to dress up. The subtly of uniform play I hope entering his head.
Later off on my walk, I realise with a jolt that he doesn’t want me because he loves me, he wants to fuck me because I am safe bet not to reject him, or hurt him. Unfortunately, in doing so he is lining me perfectly up to be hurt. What he needs, I realise in an epiphany is a fuck buddy! Someone just to screw. No complications, so history, so connections, just a vessel for his cock to thrust into.
I decide because I like to be helpful, is that I should point this out. So as I trot around the trail on the common, I suggest the one person I think might fit.
[11:48 AM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: Are you ok good enough terms with your ex gf that you could see if she just wanted to be fuck buddies?
[12:12 PM, 6/30/2019] Scott: God no way! She repulses me.
I am surprised by this. I can’t imagine it’s a physical repulsion, but maybe it is through her being a certain way. I search for clarity.
[12:13 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: Lol 😂 seriously?!?
[12:17 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: But surely she was shit hot?!?
[12:22 PM, 6/30/2019] Scott: Was!!! That is the keyword.
Now, this is where I get confused and bear with me, as this is how it is in my confused hepatic encephalon. I read something. Then don’t understand it. I didn’t read the ‘was’ – I read the shit hot. I read ‘Shit hot is the keyword’. Yes. Literally, that is what I read, and because I am still trying to remember language I look for clarity on this. I really was sure ‘shit hot was one word’.
[12:23 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: Two? Is shit hot one word?
It’s at this point Scott realises we are going off the track of pleasure and mutual gratification and turns the thought process back to the night before. I had sent through two images but thought he had gone to sleep so deleted them
[12:25 PM, 6/30/2019] Scott: Out of interest, what did you delete last night?
[12:26 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: You missed it? I thought you had gone to bed and although I wake up with no regrets I don’t want you to wake up and be uncomfortable
[12:28 PM, 6/30/2019] Scott: I missed it! I would not have been uncomfortable. I like watching you. Can I see what you sent? Rather curious and a little turned on at the thought.
I want to turn him on. I want to know I am attracted to someone. It’s a confidence thing. A needy thing. A desperate desire to know that I count and that I can affect how someone feels. so despite my best intentions, I send a teasing message and decide I will resend them.
[12:41 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: And distract you from your painting?! That would make me a truly awful person!
[12:54 PM, 6/30/2019] Scott: I don’t think so. Show me. I want to see.
[12:56 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: You are so cheeky! Nothing from you! Not even a torso shot for me to run my eyes over in a totally non politically correct way? 😂 Equal the field with at least a topless shot and I will consider it… 😜
[1:08 PM, 6/30/2019] Scott: You will get a lot more than that if I watch you play.
[1:30 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: Unfortunately, not a video 🙄
I prewarn him. Then send the two images. One is of my nipple, suggestively appearing over the top of a dress top. The other is me on my knees on my bed, the vibrator just visible between my legs.
[1:33 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: Disappointed?
Now he sends a picture of his erect member. It’s shiny and so smooth and straight I want to lean into the picture and run my hand, and then my tongue down and then his shaft. I try to imagine him in my mouth. He is big. Big enough that to try and deep throat him I would really need to get my head at the right angle. He likes it hard and fast and already looking at what I would be contending with, I’m not daunted by such a prospect, but I am realistic that I would tire quickly. His palls are neat and compact, an easy target for first my tongue and then my mouth. I imagine the sensation of holding them in my mouth, My tongue caressing them,
[1:34 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: That darling is a thing of beauty 😘
I forgot to mention that while all of this was going on I was baking. My mothers birthday is today and so I was in the midst of project ‘cakes’. The first recipe for a coconut and lime cake had been a disaster. The cake had not risen and had left the oven a flat, inedible disappointing biscuit which was promptly thrown into the bin. So right that moment, as we were exchanging delightful little pleasantries I was in the process of creating buttercream, which too my horror was much more butter than I could ever have imagined. The recipe was asking for 450g of butter which was a whole block, and don’t’ get me wrong, I realise sometimes you need to be decent with ingredients. But two blocks of butter on the icing of a cake? My arteries were seizing up at the thought. Instead, I was now slowly adding little by little what I reckoned to be around 35- 30 g on top of the 250g and so when my phone binged, pinged, made a noise I did not drop my baking things I continued on my project.
When I eventually got to my phone the second image he had sent had been deleted.
[1:43 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: Oh no! Not fair!
Nothing. And then the first image of the risen serpent was gone too!
At a loss, I go into the garden, a dollop of buttercream on my finger and take some suggestive selfies with it in my mouth and buttercream.
[1:45 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: I was playing with buttercream!
Nothing. And now I am confused, worried. Was saying it was a thing of ‘beauty’ too much?
[1:51 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: Meanie! 😜
We are celebrating her birthday today. Yesterday, and I really don’t need the stress of family friend going awol but he does. For no reason except his reason and I am left dangling. A girl who has sent several provocative images to this man, and then out of nowhere been blanked out.
[4:13 PM, 6/30/2019] Daisy: Ok 🙄 well just let me know you are ok some time? Please? And that I didn’t say something that made you run away? It’s all just fun darling x
But I know I won’t. Whatever has happened, whatever has occurred I will never know. The only certainty is that if I message him again I will look desperate and he will run away further, so instead, I will get on with my life and learn for the 1800ths time, to trust my bloody instincts.