Yesterday's travel photo? It was Ireland. :) I think I'll take a break from that for a while. You guys are too good at it, and I'm running out of less-than-obvious photos!
On to the continuing saga that is Carmen's love life (like the sands through the hourglass . . .). Some of you have been asking about what happened with Plan A and the HH. I've been trying to sort it out in my head for the last week, as it's complicated. (Warning, long story alert, and it's very personal, so you may not want to read.)
If you're keeping up with the story, I asked the HH out on a date. He said yes. He thought he said 8:15, I thought he said 9:15. He waited. We had drinks. Nice time.
The next weekend, I came by the pool late in the evening as he was getting off work to see if he wanted to get some ice cream. He'd never had hot fudge sundaes before. Again, nice time.
Then I went to Vegas. I got two emails from him while in Vegas. Sweet, right?
I came back from Vegas, it was his last day at work, as our pool closes on Labor Day. We made plans to see each other again before he left. Again, very nice.
He called on a Wednesday and we made plans to get together on Friday. We were going to go to my house and get a pizza and look at my Vegas pictures. (No, that's not a euphamism for anything.) We had fun - he was allergic to the cat (my actual cat, you perverts, ha.) who hated him. He stayed late, and drank a LOT. He was flirting and flirting and asked if I was sleepy. I said "Well, you have two choices. I can take you home and I can go to sleep, or you can kiss me." (Brazen, aren't I? Dude, Plan A was needed here.) He said he was shy (proves to be not true) but he took the bait. Then the problem started. All I wanted was a little Plan A. Maybe much later some Plan B. It went from no Plan A at all to something akin to assault.
I know Europeans have a very different view of sex than we Americans, but seriously, there was nothing attractive about it. He was rude, very crude, and went straight from Plan A to Plan Z and a half. Huh? Ok, he was really drunk, so I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt here. Plus, my hormones go all berzerk around him, so I tried to go with the flow. To an extent. When it started to get really intense, I used the "no condom" excuse. When he starts insinuating that the cat get involved (again, my actual cat), I took him home.
For some insane reason, I hung out with him again on Saturday. We went to the mall. He cooked me dinner. It was really nice. He was back to his old self again. See? It was the alcohol. Ok. Now we can have some nice, normal, Plan A. Um, no. I got the brush off. The walk-you-to-your-car-two-cheek-kisses-and-a-hug brush off. OK, now I'm confused. But, he did keep asking when he would see me again. He was working at another pool the next day. I could come by. I kept skirting around the issue, cuz I was a little confused, but said we'll see.
The next day was beautiful. So I went to the pool. Hung out all afternoon. He cooked me dinner again. It was really sweet and nice. Then the next thing I know, he's drinking again. Then he looks at me and says "I think you f* me tonight." Um, no. Who thinks that is a turn-on? I explained to him that would not be happening. Which he didn't listen to. There's a language barrier here, so I tried to make sure he understood. Plan A was ok. Plan B might be ok. Plan Z was out of the question. After which he says, now get this.
"I understand, but I don't care. That's not what I want." And brings out a condom. Which was the excuse I used previously, so now that defense is gone.
That's when it gets a little sticky. I suppose this is where, in a court of law, it makes it hard for victims to get any justice, because want and facts start to blur. Did I want to kiss him. No doubt. My hormones were doing all kinds of flips. BUT I specifically said what was acceptable. He didn't care, and then became very aggressive.
Thank goodness that I go to the gym and I'm building my strength, because I was able to try to keep things under control - using physical and psychological means. I resorted to some tactics that I'm not proud of. However, he had the strength and the power to change the stakes very quickly, had his brain not been fuzzy from the beer. At one point, he said "F* me or S* me or get out. So I did - get out, I mean. Thank God. I was scared at the time, and more scared after. He tried to insult me by calling me "abstinent." I'm like, no, I just don't want to sleep with YOU.
I got home, and had an email saying he hoped I wasn't very angry, just a little. Stupidly, I replied that I was VERY angry (I should've just let it go) I've gotten emails and 2 phone calls since. His excuse, not that there is one, is that he missed his ex. Then, he stopped making excuses and just said "I'm sorry." Which is better, but I just don't know.
And I also know in my head that this isn't true, but I FEEL like I'm so stupid. That it was all my fault. That I deserved it. I asked him out. I brought up the Plan A. I saw him again after the first time he was a baboon. My confidence has taken a real blow since this happened. I feel dirty - like 100 showers are in order. That no man will ever want me in a kind, romantic way. That I'm relegated to crappy guys like this forever. Shoot me now.
The moral of the story, is always listen to your cat.
Planet Brenda has a good post about the art of saying no. Which makes me feel slightly better. Hers is much funnier, with pictures. :)