Ex Drama and the Information Guidelines

Saturday, after our dress shopping adventure, Mr. Curls was supposed to meet up with a friend of his who he hasn't seen in quite some time. The friend was at this other guy's house with a group of people and the plan was for Mr. Curls to meet him there.

After we got back to my house, and after I reassured Mr. Curls I wouldn't feel ditched, he headed off to meet his friend. Twenty minutes later, my phone rang. Caller ID said it was him and my first thought was, "huh?" and my second thought was, "uh oh." I figured there was no reason for him to call me unless his plans fell through, right?

I answered the phone and could immediately tell by the sound of his voice that something wasn't right.

"What's up?" I asked. "Did your buddy bail on you?"

"No," he sighed. "Worse. I'm not sure what to do."

"What happened?"

"My friend just called to let me know my ex is there." That meant his most recent ex. The ex who, just last week, had some chic pretend to be her to dodge getting served divorce papers. Yes, that's right, the lady's a nut job (my words, not his). Important lesson, my friends, this is why you don't marry someone you've only known for five months. As much as I like Mr. Curls, marrying that gal was a really, really stupid thing to do. Now he's paying the price.

"Ah," I said. "I see."

"My friend went to his buddy's with someone else, so he doesn't have his car. He doesn't mind leaving, but I'd have to pick him up and I just have a bad feeling that she'd follow him out or something and..." he let it trail off.

"Yeah. That would suck."

"Except, I was supposed to hang out with him tonight and I was really looking forward to it and now my plans are wrecked." The part he didn't say, but that I understood was that this was yet another way she was having a negative impact on his life. Bad enough she won't cooperate with getting a divorce - it's not like she actually wants to be with him, not like they've even seen each other in months, etc. - now she had to ruin his plans to catch up with an old friend.

His reaction to the whole thing was like he'd gotten sucker punched. Part of me felt a little unsympathetic given that whole marrying someone he'd only known for five months thing and the fact that, when it comes to hasty romances like that, there's often reasons why people rush in and those reasons aren't often good. So, a little bit of just deserts. But, most of me cares for him and sees why he did what he did and though I think it wasn't his brightest idea, it comes down to being human, etc. etc. The majority of me just felt bad for him.

In the end, he decided to just take a rain check with his friend and avoid the situation completely. No need to set himself up for drama, and I was glad the timing worked so the ex got there before him and his friend was able to warn him. It sucked that he couldn't hang out, but it would've sucked more if he had already been there when she walked in the door.

We talked on the phone again once he got home and we talked a bit about what I needed/wanted to know about the situation at this point. He's told me the broad strokes already, as well as a few details that are important for me to know - like how she screwed around on him, confessed, and how he went to the doctor the next day to get a full STD panel which, thankfully, came back clean. But, as I told him, I don't really want details, particularly not now.

I feel like I know what I need to know for where our relationship is, and I reminded him that he should tell me anything else that would be important, but I don't want all the gory details. I don't want to know what their wedding was like, or plans they made for their life together, or any of that type of thing. It's the sort of information that wouldn't have direct bearing on our relationship and the sort of thing that can get under one's skin and fester. I don't want to spend a lot of time thinking about how he loved his exes. It can't do me any good.

We talked about what I wanted to know. He talked about wanting to protect me from the drama, and I appreciate that. He got himself into trouble and, one step at a time, he's getting it sorted out. I neither need nor want to get involved.

Different couples have different ideas about what they need to know about each other. There are those who want to know everything about everything. There are those who look at the past as the past and the only important part is today onward. For me, I'm somewhere between, but with a healthy appreciation of Cliff's Notes. I don't need to know everything about the 2nd ex. I know the wedding was hasty. I know the marriage itself was viable for about four months. I know that by the time they'd known each other a year, Mr. Curls was beginning to realize he'd gone down a bad path. I know that as of the time he and I met, one of the things he wanted more than anything else was to be finished with this person and move on and have a life she had no part in.

I also know that the experience made him take a hard look at his issues and the choices he'd made to get him into that situation. He's determined not to repeat the same mistake and we've talked more than once about the benefit of taking it slow and really getting to know each other before we do big relationship things. We've talked about how being in a relationship with someone for over a year is a good thing to do before planning to get married. Sometimes one has to learn things the hard way, but the important thing is that those things are learned. In this case, he just had to learn it the really hard, painful, disastrous way.

All I can say is Yay! for the vasectomy, 'cause the last thing he or I need is to have this person involved in his life as baby mama #2. Thank goodness for small mercies.

Now I Have a Shopping Assistant

A while back, I was telling Mr. Curls about my friend's wedding in May. I happened to mention needing a dress.

"Oh yeah?" He said.

"Yup. I'm going to have to go shopping."

"Want company?"

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Curls volunteered to go dress shopping with me.

Yesterday, we hopped in my car and toured the shops. The last time I went shopping for a dress with someone was when I was a high school freshman. The friend I went with got bored and annoyed with me and it wasn't fun. Going into the shopping adventure with Mr. Curls, I was a bit nervous about how it'd go.

It took until the fourth shop before we found anything for me to even try on. I have to say, I was impressed. Mr. Curls was very patient about the whole process and there were a few times when he was the one who picked out a dress for me to try on. I must add, the comments of, "Ooh, I really like that one on you" and "You look really good in that one" made me smile. He was good moral support, and very helpful when it came to having someone around to hold dresses for me. Also, he wasn't just humoring me. He was actually interested in helping me find something I liked. It was an unusual experience for me. Fun, though, definitely fun.

The dress mission took about eight stores before I found a dress that would work. Now I've got a dress for the wedding and now I know who to take shopping with me.

What's Sex? What Isn't?

I'm a big fan of City Girl's blog, and I'm totally flattered that she's got a post up that responds to a comment I left the other day. Go read the post, it's a good one.

In short, the conversation is about the definition of sex. Most people can agree that if you give someone a kiss, that doesn't count as sex. Most people can agree that if there is a penis in a vagina and an ejaculation, that's sex.

It's the degrees in between that get fuzzy. For City Girl, the difference between fooling around and sex is penetration: "I define sex in a Clinton-esque fashion. (And, by Clinton, I mean Bill, not Hillary.) Did a guy penetrate me vaginally or anally with his cock? If so, then we had sex, and I’m carving another notch in my bedpost. If not, then I did not have sexual relations with that man."

At the end of the post, she asks her readers what their definition of sex is. For me, sex is based on the sex organs. My definition of sex includes things like hand jobs and oral sex.

On the logistics, City Girl and I differ. The interesting part, though is that, in a way, we agree more than we disagree. Even though we draw the line differently, we draw it for the same reason. The border between fooling around and sex for both of us is based on emotion. She said, "I can disconnect my emotions from hands and oral, but I can’t disconnect from traditional or anal sex." My emotions get tied in a lot sooner than hers is all.

And Then There Was a Vibrator

Sunday night, after Mr. Curls had dropped off the boys with their mom, I went over to see him. This was the first time since I got my X-rated mail that he and I had a chance to be together privately. When I got there, he was pretty worn out from running around with the boys all weekend and the first thing we did was cuddle up on the couch. After the "how was your day" chit chat, I got brave enough to mention what I'd been thinking ever since I walked in the door.

"So, how tired would you say that you are?" I asked, oh-so-nonchalantly.

He gave me the look that said he knew exactly what I meant, then he said, "Oh, you know. Why, is there something in particular you had in mind?"

That's when I started blushing. "Um, well... Um. You know that package I mentioned? I, uh, brought it along and was wondering if you wanted to see what it was."

"Really?" He said it slowly, smiling and enjoying watching me squirm. "Hrm... that's interesting. Yeah, I think I might be kind of curious."

A couple minutes and significantly less clothing later came a bit of show and tell and then a bit of other things.

"So, what do you think?" I asked him afterward.

"What do you think?" He countered.

"I like adding it in. You?"

"I like it. It was interesting to feel the vibrations through you. I liked that. I especially like that you like it."

The experiment went well. I'm glad. Not just for, ahem, obvious reasons. I'm also glad that I was confident enough with him to even bring up the sex toy idea, much less use one. We're getting each other figured out and I'm getting more comfortable with taking something that had, for years, been a solo activity and turning it into a team sport.

Meeting the Kids *Dum Dum Dum!*

"Are you nervous?" Mr. Curls asked Friday.
"No, not really. You?"
"Um... yeah," he admitted.
I gave him an extra tight hug and sent him on his way.

Saturday, I got to the mall a couple minutes before Mr. Curls and the kids did. I watched them walk up, thinking, "That's them. Those are the kids." Then I gave Mr. Curls a hug hello and got introduced to the boys and we were off to play black light mini golf.

We got set up with our neon golf balls and clubs and decided to tee off in order of height. The nine year old went first, then me, then the other boy, then Mr. Curls. I was entertained that the only one shorter than me was nine. I was especially entertained 'cause I was wearing boots that have an inch and a half heel on them.

Mr. Curls won the first round of golf so I propositioned the boys. "Alright guys, one of us has to beat him this time." They were all over that idea. As Mr. Curls got ready to take his shot on the first hole, me and the boys made faces at him to ruin his concentration. It worked, too. The teenager won round two. As I told Mr. Curls, ganging up on him was a calculated move 'cause I didn't want the boys to feel like I was competition for his attention or such, so if I could be on their side, then it'd help avoid that interloper feeling.

At any rate, after round two, and Mr. Curls carefully recalculating the score card, the boys and I high-fived each other. Golf score aside, it was definitely a win because of how well the boys and I were getting along. After golf, we did lunch at the food court, then the boys went to the game store, giving me and Mr. Curls a minute alone.

"What do you think?" Mr. Curls asked, with just a touch of nervousness still in his voice.
"I think they're very much like you. I like them."
"Good."
"What do you think?"
He smiled, visibly more relaxed. "I think today was a good day."

He called later that night to tell me he'd talked with the boys about meeting me after they left the mall. They said they liked me. By then, I wasn't too worried, since there had been a couple things during the afternoon that told me as much - like the nine year old saying, "You're gonna come back to the apartment with us, aren't you?" So, you know, I wasn't too worried that they'd hated me.

Now I've met the kids. On to the next milestone.

It Came In the Mail, or the X-Rated Package

Mr. Curls and I, in short, have both been out of practice in terms of bedroom shenanigans. This resulted in a bit of awkwardness at the beginning, even a little more so than the typical awkwardness that comes from sleeping with someone new. But, like with many things, practice helps.

"And," I said, "in terms of things to practice, this is certainly a fun one."

He blushed, hid his face in a pillow for a second, then he leaned over and kissed me. "True," he said.

Practice helps, and the other day I was thinking that it might be interesting to add in another type of help. (Gosh, I'm blushing already, I can feel it.) Once, a couple years ago, I ordered a vibrator from Babeland. Last week I put in another order. This time for the Babeland Silver Bullet vibrator. I mentioned this to Mr. Curls the other night, and his reaction was a combination of surprise and curiosity. "Really?" he said. "Hrm..."

Yesterday, my package arrived. Since he was with his kids, I was left to my own, er, devices. I mean, since it was a new thing, it only seemed right to test it out before adding Mr. Curls into the mix. Test it I did. It was the best thing I've gotten in the mail in quite some time. (Note to self: put batteries on the shopping list.)

During our phone chat last night, we got to talking about it.

"In other news," I said, "that package I was telling you about came today."

"Oh," he said. "Interesting."

We talked about sex toys for a while. I almost asked him if he's used them with a partner before, but I balked. I know he's got the exes, and intellectually I know he had sex with them. I just don't want to really think about that. I knew if I asked, he'd tell me, and then I'd visualize and... ugh, just didn't want to go there.

At any rate, the general outcome of the conversation was that he's open for experimenting. He seemed a little nervous about it at first, because I think the first thing he imagined when I said sex toy was strap-on (mostly because of an unfortunate experience he had helping someone move and accidentally discovering theirs when they asked him to pack up some clothes). But, once I described it, he was more relaxed. I told him, "The idea is that it's complimentary."

"Right," he said. "I can see that." Then he paused. "So, did you try it out?"

"Um, yeah."

He laughed, 'cause he could hear the blush in my voice. "Hrm..." he said. It sounded like he was grinning.

Looking at Dead People + Tacky Dining + Blizzard = The Birthday Date

Last week, aka Friday of the snowstorm, Mr. Curls and I trekked to Denver to visit the museum of Nature and Science. His birthday was that Wednesday, yup, his Bday is on St. Patrick's. So, our excursion was a kind of birthday field trip, which was cool. (Side note: now that he's officially 33, I may have made an old man joke or two. That is, until he pointed out that while some might call him a cradle robber, it would be just as appropriate to call me a grave robber, and I've made fewer old man jokes since then.)

It was the perfect day, too, lemme tell ya. Driving through snow to get there was fun. Also, I was feeling pretty lousy from the cold/strep, but I didn't want to put it off 'cause I was looking forward to the museum. Yes, I am a nerd. Sue me. Once we got there, I decided to spring for the extra tickets to check out the Body Worlds exhibit. Way cool, and also surreal. Being able to walk through it with Mr. Curls and see him have the same reaction to it that I did was nice. It's not everyone's cup of tea, and certainly not for the faint of heart, but it was fascinating and he gets it.

After the museum, Mr. Curls wanted to go to Casa Bonita (as seen in South Park!) for dinner. The last time I'd been there was a field trip in third grade and I was afraid it wouldn't seem as cool now that I'm a grown up. Luckily, I had nothing to be worried about. It was way fun. We got a table right by the waterfall/diving pool and got to see the diver do his show while we ate. After, we went to the arcade and played silly games to win tickets and get silly prizes. I am now the proud owner of a set of chattery teeth and a rubber pirate ring that lights up.

Then, the drive home was outright blizzard-y for about half the way. It took an extra hour to get home, plus a stop to clean off the wipers so I could see through the windshield again. Mr. Curls was calm enough about me driving through the storm, which was a relief. There's nothing more fun than driving in bad conditions with a freaking out passenger. There was a spot or two where he got nervous, so it's not like he was oblivious, just that I was careful and he didn't think I'd kill us.

He told me later that I'm now on the list of about three people other than him who he trusts to drive in crappy weather. "There have been times when I've been riding with someone in bad conditions," he said, "and I have literally asked them to either let me drive or let me out."

All together, it was a very eventful day. It was also a day that could have ended with frayed nerves and us snapping at each other, but it didn't, which makes me happy.