Drinking With a Former Flame is a Bad Idea

Like, really really really bad.

It’s 7:30 pm on Monday. I’m driving to a ritzy, gated community once familiar to me. I’m going to see Sean, a guy I dated when I first embarked on my divorce journey.

It’s been two years since Sean and I first met. He’s a bigwig in the medical device industry and makes bank. His house…sigh, his house is gorgeous. He travels constantly for work and when he’s in town, he spends as much time as possible with his kids.

I really liked him. He’s good-looking, 6'3 tall, and a former football player. Sean is a giant next to my 5'3 petite frame and we both physically enjoyed the size difference. Don’t get me started on what that man does with his fingers.

Why didn’t it work out?

Sean never pushed for any kind of commitment and was relatively unresponsive by text. Oh, and he had a wonky dick. I want to make it clear: I don’t care what you have to do to make your man meat hard. Strap a popsicle stick or take a blue pill, I don’t care as long as it works.

After two hours of sex, with only thirty seconds combined total of actual penetration, I vowed to never bang him again. Two hours of constant head to provide sexual CPR on a cock is my absolute limit.

I told him that I was getting serious with someone else and left it at that.

We text occasionally, in my case it’s to send a picture of a wine selection at the store to ask for Sean’s expert opinion on what to buy. A few months ago he asked to hang out, even when I insisted on no hanky-panky because of my relationship status. He was respectful and we had a great time hanging out.

I also left with a shit ton of wine, which this broke bitch needs when visiting others.

Sean asked if I wanted to hang out before he started his new job. “Why not?” I thought. While my heart is with Jeremy, he hasn’t locked this relationship down. He gets no opinion on who I hang out with if it’s not sexual.

I do my makeup but I’m not dressed sexy like I used to. Those outfits are reserved for Jeremy. I wear jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, and a sports t-shirt over it. I’m not giving any sexual vibes; I’m giving “let’s eat pizza” vibes.

After a quick hug and taking off my coat, Sean is quick to pour a glass of wine. He’s annoyingly obsessed with the stuff. His collection is worth more than a brand-new SUV (a Toyota, not an Audi).

As he’s talking, I’m thinking about how much I’ve changed in the two years since we met. I’m still a sarcastic asshole but I have a smidge more confidence. He’s gained weight since I last saw him, which is odd to see on a guy who has the most expensive workout device I’ve ever seen. I smugly think how everything about Jeremy turns me on, his face and body are perfection (yes, his personality too).

We begin talking about dating and Sean bemoans how he’s so far remote that the average woman in this county wouldn’t extend her dating range. I strategize that he should change his zip code because people move all the time, it’s worth giving a shot to seem a few miles closer inland.

Maybe it was me saying “you’re in the top 1% of guys on a given dating app, I guarantee women don’t care if you live this far out”. It’s all true.

The subject of our dating history comes up. I point out how he’s the worst at texting and never made any attempts to make it serious. He never wanted to go out. “You said you were fine with whatever,” Sean replies. “I didn’t think you wanted to go out. You said right on that spot on the couch during sex that you were fine if that’s all this is. I didn’t know you wanted more.”

Listen, you can’t trust me for anything I say during sex. I probably told him he was the best at sex too and I assure you, he’s in the top 5 worst sexual partners I’ve ever had.

Sean asks about Jeremy and I make the mistake of saying that there are no titles because we haven’t DTRed yet. Sean insists that I tell him and I proceed to explain the last time I tried (still to be written up for Medium, don’t come at me in the comments that I need to have the talk). He tells me that trying to hone in on a relationship status when drunk doesn’t count for anything.

He takes my wine glass and puts it aside. “I’m going to kiss you now and you can see how serious you are with this guy.”

I’m drunker than I realize as he leans in and kisses me. I push him back and say, “we’re not doing this” in a non-threatening way. Sean is surprised. “You really mean it with this guy,” he tells me.

I validate that yes, I really like Jeremy and I’m not going to do anything.

Sean reiterates how Jeremy hasn’t locked this relationship down. “You single guys are like feral cats,” I explain. “If I push too much, y’all run away.”

He puts his hands behind my neck and gives me some bizarre massage. He explains slathers me with compliments (not going to lie, that felt great to hear) and tells me that I can demand a firm relationship status from Jeremy.

Sean leans over again for a kiss and I immediately put my hand in front of my face, then push against his neck. His extremely thick, strong, powerful neck. It’s like pushing a block of cement with a feather.

I glance at my phone. 11 pm. I need to go but I’m buzzed to drive. My fear of confrontation and extreme need to make everyone comfortable stop me from making a scene. I also don’t know how he’ll react and fighting off his advances is the devil I know compared to the devil I don’t know: his reaction if things get confrontational.

My attempts to change the subject don’t work. Sean is alternating between slathering me with compliments about how amazing I am (paraphrasing because y’all don’t need to read blobs of text humble bragging about my alleged awesomeness) and trying to kiss me.

He leans in yet again and I push my hand against his neck again to fend him off. This time, he doesn’t move. How the hell is a man’s neck stronger than my hand and arm? A split second of panic goes through me.

I take my hand off his neck and put it over my mouth. I mumble “no” the same way you tell a toddler looking at doing something naughty to stop before they start.

“You said the magic word,” Sean says and pulls away. Geezus fuck, I thought the constant pushing of my hand on his throat was a good enough sign.

Did things end there? Nope. He continued to insist that I’m the kind of woman who has every right to demand what she wants from someone. Sean tells me about how I have the upper hand, which piques my interest.

“I never have the upper hand and am I not supposed to let the man lead? You know…‘if he wanted to, he would’ type of thing,” I explain.

Sean prattles on how rare I am and that in the end, I have the upper hand. Okay, I guess I am humble bragging a bit. He’s giving me a lot of food for thought. My brain is wrapping his words around my thoughts of Jeremy, all while repeatedly covering my mouth with my hand every time Sean tries to kiss me.

“I’m going to just ride it out until he falls in love with me and then he’ll lock this down,” I semi-joke.

Sean replies, “how long have you been dating?”

“Since last August.”

“Six months then,” Sean calculates. “How often do you see him?”

When I reply at least once a week on average, he laughs. I look at him, questioning.

“Once a week for six months? Yeah, he’s in love with you,” Sean explains. When I try to dispute it, he stands firm.

As he repeats that Jeremy is in love with me, he looks deep into my eyes. Fuck. I see what he’s doing here. I’m the longest post-marriage relationship (or whatever the heck we’ve been) Sean’s had. “Trust me. He’s in love with you,” he firmly repeats while staring straight into my eyes.

I wiggle out of his eyeballs’ grasp and change the subject for the umpteenth time. Why is this happening now? I would have killed two years ago for any inclination that Sean felt anything more than a FWB.

“Would this be any different if he made a commitment to you?” Sean strangely asks. I reply that if he were my boyfriend, I’d feel the need to tell Jeremy everything from this night. There is no need to disclose any of this because Jeremy could be doing the same thing for all I know. You get full transparency and claim for honesty when you’ve made a commitment.

Finally, I feel sober enough to bounce. “Oh look at the time…” I mumble and jump up. I thank Sean as I try to clean up our wine glasses and fold the blanket I wrapped around myself like armor all night.

I reach up to give him a goodbye hug. Sean wraps his arms around me and stands upright, pulling me a foot off the ground with our height difference. He lifts me like I’m a stuffed animal because despite not being in as phenomenal shape as before, his arms are still rock-solid massive muscle.

Without wrapping my legs around him, I’m dangling in a weird position. My lack of reciprocity with his massive body lift is clear and Sean puts me down. He helps me with my jacket and walks me to my car.

I give a final hug and jump in my car. When I’m out of eyesight, I stop my car and take a deep breath. My annoyance at his constant advances is trumped by his spurts of relationship wisdom.

Despite the awkward situation, Sean gave me perspective. I need to start acting like I can attract any man I want and not thirst for Jeremy (sigh…Jeremy…let the birds sing) in a way that gives him complete control.

When I get home, I give the obligatory I-Got-Home-Safe text. He replies, “Thanks for the visit. Sorry if I overstepped. You’re awesome and your dude is lucky — remember that! Hope to do it again sometime soon :)”

My head is spinning from the insight and topics my overthinking brain will over analyze for weeks. No Sean, I won’t be doing that again anytime soon.