Love.

Zoe and I are an item.  I would have updated here much sooner alas my internet went down and I went away for work yet again, which at the beginning of a budding relationship is torture.  We obviously came through with grace and style all the stronger.  We are very smitten with one another.  She is a wonderful woman.  She is everything that the women of my past have not been.  She not only accepts me but embraces those parts of me which would otherwise be challenging.  I love her all the more for this.  She dances so utterly artfully and entrancingly with my demons.  She quells my moods and challenges me in just the right ways when I get difficult.  She is a blessing.

Zoe is giving me perspective on myself.  I have always described myself as average looking to reasonably attractive.  She is convinced that I am the most attractive man that she has ever met in person which is confirmed by several of her friends and of all things her daughter… Which makes me feel a little awkward.  I mean, aren’t teenage girls supposed to be attracted to hairless, skinny things like Justin Bieber?  I feel like an Armani model rather suddenly.  I would like to use this as an example of the stigma that mental disorders get.  As a caucasian male in his mid thirties, tallish and well made, attractive and intelligent, people give you utter hell when you claim to have or express your problems.  ‘You aren’t a minority, how dare you?!’  ‘You can’t know what it means to suffer, what problem could you possibly have?!’  People get downright belligerent when someone like me has an invisible problem.  If I walked with a limp that would be understandable.  Were I physically deformed in some way there would be empathy and understanding.  So long as I look, speak and behave as I do I just piss people off by being anything less than godlike.  This is where mental health needs to focus.  It looks like anyone.  Robin Williams killed himself.

 

The above aside I am sliding down the slippery slopes of love.  I have decided to no longer chase anything that does not in turn chase me.  If people invest no time in me, that is exactly how much time I will invest in them.  I feel so much better for it.  I have spent next to no time on social media.  There is no room for rubbish people in my mind when I have a goddess occupying most of it.  I was going to make a Facebook post to the effect of:  I once had a woman in my life whom I loved so I shared her with the world, now I have a woman who is my world and I don’t much feel the need to share our life.  But as the line indicates, I didn’t feel much of a need to bother.

The sex is great.  I am a former man-slut (I hate that the word slut has an automatic feminine association, so I am going to use it ambiguously from here going forward) so I have had some practice satisfying women sexually.  Zoe just happens to be really easy to satisfy so it is like a Harlem Globetrotters game.  I feel like the fix is in every time.  My pristiq makes having an orgasm difficult but that doesn’t even bother me at all.  It still happens eventually, the joy for me is in the getting there and let me tell you, if I can make a car analogy about this woman’s body: you get all of the luxury features of a Cadillac in the streamlined little package of a Porsche.  There is no part of her that I do not find alluring.  So much so that I have entirely stopped consuming porn.  This is very big.  I am a porn fanatic and addict.  I will forever be a proponent for pornography, I think it is one of the purest forms of entertainment.  However, since Zoe I have not needed it at all.  She has replaced porn in my mind.  That is the very definition of salacious and lascivious.  This woman was truly made for me.

I see a very bright future in this.  My fear however is that I may end up putting too much of my happiness eggs into a single basket which for bipolars can be kind of dangerous.  That’s a bridge I can incinerate when I feel the need to, crossed or not.

Dating Progress

Things are progressing with the new lady, for whom I am going to have to come up with a name.  Zoe.  I adore that name so this is the one I will use.  Our third date was as previously outlined, which was a surprise because that was supposed to be our fourth.  First we met at a new café in town, a very hip little spot that plays records.  Actual vinyl records, the kind I used to sell at my mother’s store.  They had excellent cappuccino and the food was wonderful although Zoe didn’t eat.  She has a new diet for training and she insisted that I eat seeing as I’m back to my lean fighting weight of one hundred and eighty five pounds.  

After our time at the café we reconvened at her house where she intentionally put on a movie we had both seen, so that we could still “talk”.  If you miss a signal like this buddy, you are benched, out of the game.  Sure enough, we actually do talk for a bit, she has positioned herself in the corner of the couch so that her legs are pointed at me.  A stand-off between us, but with those tight, high-waisted jean shorts on I see this as more of an invitation.  I begin with her feet, which I move to my lap.  If a woman even allows you to handle her feet you are about thirty percent there.  I don’t really go for a legitimate “foot massage” because that is fucking lame and it makes you committed to a task.  The only task I want to be committed to is getting my tongue into her mouth and my hands into her clothing.  I do however touch them and even grip them, occasionally make as though I am massaging her feet but not really getting too involved in it.  

I think most get the picture.  This proceeds up her legs.  Once I am certain through thorough suggestion and body language that she is absolutely interested in everything done thus far, I move in.  I slide right up next to her not unlike a snake actually and I know that I am making this sound predatory and creepy but… It is a hunt.  Whilst positioning my body deftly I simultaneously and with seamless grace bring my face smoothly to hers without ever breaking eye contact.  I think many people are familiar with this movement and have more than likely done it many times but to hear it described it seems strange.  Yet, we do it.  It is a thing of beauty.  I slide myself right into place as my face perfectly docks with hers and locks in a breathtaking first kiss.  Then we make out like teenagers in the backseat of the family Ford Galaxie at a drive-in movie circa 1968.

Zoe is slender and I don’t normally go for those types but she is ringing my every bell.  She has as much of everything that she needs right where you want it and that’s what matters.  She is very complimentary personality wise to myself.  We have similar interests but are not identical, which is great because I like a fine balance.  I don’t like having everything in common with my respective other and I don’t see the point in carrying on with someone who shares no common ground.  Why would you want to?  Even if the sex was good…  

Our fourth date is going to be this Sunday and I’m trying to think of something special I could do that isn’t over the top.  A small gift or token, preferably something useful not just a bottle of wine.  Something that tells her that I was listening.  As of yet she has mentioned nothing that I can think of that I can work from.  She has her likes covered and her needs are before those so, if I do get anything it would be frivolous but I would prefer it to serve a purpose.  I guess I will have to think on it.