Saturday, May 14, 2011

Outside Looking In

It's coming up on a year that I'm physically separated from my wife and in my "post-modern" bachelor digs in the Far West Village. My OK Cupid date who I brought home with me this week referred to it as "Po-Mo".

"Very cool, very PoMo," says she.

I hear it as very cool, very homo. Am I feeing defensive, curious, or just cranking GaGa up way high on the Nano?

We took the dog out and wandered by the river. Here on the edge of the island, Manhattan tides leave daily marks. Rotting wooden pilings visible ten feet above the water during my early morning run are all but completely covered by the dark, night time, ocean fed waters of the Hudson. I like my date. But she's not the domme girl of my dreams. I'm outside our easy conversation; looking in.

My kinky dance partner is so hot. We really rumba and she totally rocks. But the dance floor is as far as it goes. Earlier in the week as we said goodbye on the subway platform she hugged me. As we parted I pulled her back, arm around her shapely waist, like the dance floor leader I pretend to be and kissed her straight on her beautiful full lips. She seemed unmoved. Undettered, I swore I'd repeat it after our Friday night class and add a quick little two step tongue.

But face to face with cold reality it's just not there and I'm left ouside looking in.

She-Who-Visits calls regularly and tells me how much she misses me. We haven't seen each other since September. Starting next week I'm in Miami for ten days. She even told me she was checking air fares. But this week when I asked if she'd be coming up it was clear she would not. Nose pressed eagerly to her window, my hot breath fogs the view. She's but an illusion - and I'm outside looking in.

My wife and I have stopped fighting. She's dying what will be a slow, horrific death. We are deeply and unexpectedly connected despite our separation. In bittersweet dismay, I am tragically and gut-wrenchingly delivered home. Inside her terror looking out, I seek a connection which is, for now, just as well out of reach.


Her Majesty's Plaything said...

Hi Advo:

Just sitting here on the couch reading your blog as Her Majesty reads the instructions to her new exercise machine. (Our basement is the exercise machine graveyard. Will this one survive?)

This is a wonderful post. I was once again reminded of how well you write. Also reminded of how incredibly confusing relationships can be. Also of how complicated women are. Also of how much I don't miss dating.

Once upon a time I had a few techniques for dating. They are even deader than most of Her Majesty's exercise machines. God help me if I had to resurrect them now. Even if I managed to dust them off and breathe life back into them they would apply only to vanilla scenarios.

My son is very good looking, suave, smart and sensitive. He is already quite the lady killer. Some of what you describe here sounds like what he might call be consigned to the dreaded "friend zone". Apparently once you have been confined to the friend zone it is difficult to be viewed as anything other than a "nice guy" and a friend. In order to find the secret trap door back you must be incredibly resourceful, dashing, masculine and debonair. I don't think being a subbie really fits into that equation.

Your journey continues my friend and I for one really enjoy reading about it. Happy hunting! ;-)

advochasty said...


Thanks for the compliments. I actually think that with these two women the dreaded "friend zone" is where I chose to be or have chosen. My momentary efforts to find the trap door are the foolish folly of spring.

At least the juices still flow.

I think it is certainly true of me that I mostly don't have game. I'm a submissive with good subbie guy game; but little "knock-her-down-and-fuck-her" suave.

She's gotta want me and go for it.

I figure at least this way, I'll know for sure when I run across Ms. Right.

Her Majesty's Plaything said...


Sounds like a plan. And yes you have *great* subby guy game! ;-)

Aarkey said...

I have to simply echo HMP - you really are a gifted writer.

The detached feeling of being outside looking in is something that I know. After my first heartbreak and again after my divorce, I experienced that. And frankly, I learned to consider it to be a healthy thing. Call it corny, but it was "self-loving" - and that's something I needed more of.

It will be good to see ya this week. Be well,


advochasty said...

Aarkey -

Thanks! I needed that. Spent the evening trying to "lead" on the dance floor. Sometimes I'd hit it and sometimes I was ... outside looking in - at my two left feet!

I need me some Florida sun. This May is total tease and denial in NYC - and not the good kind. Grey, chilly, rainy. Need me some sun, son! See ya soon.