I’m Letting A Man Have All The Power

This isn’t like me and I need to reel this in, fast.

Dating at least two men is my MO. I’ve never met a guy who satisfies all requirements. If two wrongs make a right, maybe two red flags equal a green. I keep my emotional attachment low.

I began dating Jonah. He was very sweet to me but the red flags were endless. I only date men with kids; his children were estranged so he had all the time in the world and didn’t understand the struggle of co-parenting. He’s a very “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” kind of guy, oblivious to the reality of life for people generations away from his 51 years of age. He voted for Trump the first time and ranted how he hated talking about politics (oh cool, because you’re a privileged white guy who doesn’t think worrying about others matters). He seemed to be combative while simultaneously exalting the virtues of having a positive attitude.

Then I met Jeremy and a cartoon lightbulb went over my head. This is what I want to feel. The limerence, the butterflies, the excitement, the initial giddiness one feels when they meet someone they like. I had to break it off with Jonah. Even if things ended with Jeremy, at least I’d recognize how I should be feeling instead of begrudgingly dating someone because “I don’t know, there’s no reason not to date him”.

I wanted to break up with Jonah but he had a date night that he spent two weeks planning. I figured it’d be a nice dinner and then I could do my typical breakup procedure a few days later. Except it was a $500 dinner and talks of plans months from now. How was I supposed to break up with someone after that?

Fortunately, I had an out. He kept asking me to hang out and I was, legitimately, too busy to see him.

Jonah flipped out via text. “Are you telling me you can only see me once every 7 to 10 days? That wasn’t ever communicated to me,” he angrily wrote.

“I figured the fact you only saw me every 7 to 10 days was the indicator that I can only see you every 7 to 10 days. Seemed kind of self-explanatory,” I replied.

That was my out. Jonah insisted that he could be okay with my limited schedule but with the help of a guy friend, I crafted a message that said very firmly that I wasn’t okay with not meeting the expectations of others and that I didn’t want to pursue things any further. It worked.

Lesson learned: when you want to end things with a guy, ask another guy to craft the text. They speak Bro Talk.

Meanwhile, I remain blissfully giddy about Jeremy. I tell myself that it could end any minute but I wouldn’t care because I’m stoked to have this happy feeling with someone again.

Except I do care. I care too much because I’ve let Jeremy have all the power.

Occasionally, during sex, Jeremy growls that I’m done fucking other guys. I’m not boning anyone else, but he doesn’t know that. I purr back, “okay, but that means you are done fucking other chicks.”

Somehow this led to an ongoing joke (“joke” using the word loosely) that he has a harem of women and I’m the head of it. I can’t tell if he’s so far removed from dating anyone else that it’s hilarious to him or if he’s banging other chicks on the regular and this is his way of dodging the topic. I assume it’s the latter.

Typically, at this point in dating, I’ve hooked the guy. This is unknown territory for me. I maintain the upper hand by never feeling as strongly for them (not at first) as they do for me. It’s not an easy skill to remain stoic but having an Avoidant Attachment style helps to keep me in check.

When Jeremy doesn’t have his kids (but I have mine or I’ve got other plans), I panic and wonder if he’s with The Unknown Possibly Non-Existent Other Women. I temper the pace of my texts to not seem overly clingy when he’s not around while also prodding at his evening plans.

It’s driving me insane. But it’s too early for the DTR talk. That’s a talk around the three-month mark. Patience is a virtue that I lack.

For fun, sometimes I go into my Hinge account and peruse the profile of people I’ve dated. I’m curious when they change their pictures or writeup. Vance changed a picture and wrote that he’s looking for a “long-term life and empire-building partner, does that even exist?” I find it fascinating, the dating life of people I’ve left behind.

I scroll through Jeremy’s profile to see if he’s updated anything. A great way to see if a guy is still actively dating is to check for changes in his profile. Until today, there hasn’t been any.

Until today.

Jeremy changed a picture. He changed a picture this week. My panic goes into overdrive. Is he actively looking for more women? How many of us are there? Am I just a placeholder? I feel sick despite knowing that this is my own doing. This is the casual dating phase and I got hooked too soon.

Fuck that. Time to change the narrative.

First, I set my profile back to “active” and swipe right on a few guys. I know they’ll all respond because dating apps are always in women’s favor. I need the mental power of knowing I’m in demand, even if I don’t do anything about it. Plus, a guy knows when other men are sniffing around. Even if it’s digital, I need the aura of desirability.

There’s a scene in Clueless where Cher buys herself chocolate, and flowers, and writes love letters to show how desired she is. Temporarily going back on Hinge is my version of that.

It’s Tuesday and we’ve got a date planned. Jeremy texts and tells me to bring hiking clothes, a swimsuit, a dress, and toiletries. He attempts mystery by saying no further information will be provided until I arrive.

I’m not fucking around when it comes to this competition bullshit. I take three hours to get ready.

I look spectacular when I arrive. Jeremy tends to leave his door open and tells me to come inside because he’s showering. I holler as I enter because it still feels odd to barge in on someone when they’re in the shower (must be nice to be a guy and never worry about rape).

He walks around the corner wearing only a towel. Goddamn, there’s nothing hotter than a muscular guy out of the shower. Jeremy’s dark blond hair is wet and his tanned skin glistens, making his blue eyes pop. We discuss potential plans and agree to get dinner first, then head to the pool to swim.

Jeremy takes off his towel to change and I insist that he slide his cock into my mouth. “I was going to wait until later to fuck you,” he mumbles while he’s in my mouth. I back away.

“Oh, we’re not having sex now. I just wanted you in my mouth for a bit. I want you to make me beg for it later.” Phase 1 complete: remind him that I’m spontaneous when it comes to sex and leave him wanting more.

We walk into his kitchen and I have a surprise. He asked for help weeks ago with my craftiness to make custom stickers for his kids’ water cups because he was sick of endless cups laying around. I asked a friend of mine, who is a queen at epoxy and crafting, to make five custom cups.

Jeremy’s jaw drops. “This is amazing…seriously. This is the most thoughtful gift.” He gushes about how this will make his life easier. Phase 2 complete: remind him how sweet and thoughtful I am. Secretly, I also want him to have a regular reminder of me around his house if this relationship ends.

We hop in his massive truck and head to a casual place for drinks and pizza. There’s a heat wave but the weather cooled a bit, enough for us to sit outside. I’m wearing a low-cut sundress, which is most men’s kryptonite. We have a fun time drinking and eating. Phase 3 complete: be fun and uplift his spirit.

Getting back to his place, he suggests swimming. There are two pools where he lives but no one’s ever there. While swimming, we keep chatting and talking nonstop. I begin kissing him and Jeremy insists it’s time we head back to his place. There’s no phase here; I didn’t anticipate the pool and honestly, it was a pause in my plan.

Back at Jeremy’s house, he wants to go in the shower. Ugh, my flat-ironed hair and heavy eye makeup aren’t conducive to water spraying all over them. I take a deep breath and think, “fuck it”. This is the next phase: be as kinky and sexy as he wants.

In his tiny shower, I get on my knees and start sucking. If I weren’t buzzed, I’d be annoyed with shower water pouring on my face. I stand up and comment on the mirror from his clear shower door. Jeremy tells me to press myself up against it, porn-style. I’ve never seen my boobs squished against glass before. He’s holding the door closed while he’s banging me from behind and looking in the mirror.

It’s a lot of effort to not slip and fall during shower sex. Just sayin’.

We take the party to his bed. Loads of fucking and he finishes. Phase 5 complete: make him feel like a sex god while he drains his balls.

As we lay in post-coital bliss, we engage in random chit-chat. Jeremy jokes again about my being the head of his harem. I bring out my secret weapon. “Oh that’s cool, you can be the coach of my roster,” I say.

“Wait, what?” he stammers.

“A roster. You know. You’ve got a harem for chicks. I’ve got a roster for guys. But you can be the coach.” Jeremy has no idea if I’m joking or not. Phase 6 complete: make him panic.

We continue talking while laying naked in bed. Jeremy says he wants to see what other guys on Hinge are like. I know his game; he wants to see both my reaction to him getting my phone as well as what messages I’ve gotten from other men. I could tell him “no” but instead, I toss him my phone. Having swiped earlier on loads of guys, I panic about the influx of messages I know I’ll have when he opens the app.

Luckily, Hinge flags each message with a Your Turn label indicating you weren’t the one who wrote last. This makes it look like I’ve got loads of guys wanting me while I’m just so overloaded with requests to even engage.

I open Jeremy’s profile on Hinge because we chatted earlier about how men list their job titles. “Oh, I guess I did put Project Director on my profile,” he comments. I scroll down and there it is: the new picture.

I call him out. “Look at you, updating your photo.” I tease. I immediately feel him tense next to me. Yeah, bro. You asked to see my phone. You opened this can of worms. You’re a guy and you’re an idiot when it comes to online behaviors. The final phase is complete: the realization that he could lose me.

We talk a bit more and I tell him I need to go home. Jeremy asks, “You aren’t spending the night?” Uh no, I don’t spend the night unless asked well in advance. Plus, it’s a Tuesday; I’d never assume I’m staying over on a work night.

I bail out and drive home.

Only time will tell if I’ve regained my power.