Life Within the Gilded Cage

Garlic breath and breaking hearts

Ken called again tonight. I wished that I had not picked up. How do I tell him I don't like the way he pushes his tongue into my mouth. It's like being probed at the wrong end by a colonoscopy. His tongue has all the sensitivity of a cattle prod. God, I hate it.

I've always said that there are only two things I enjoy more than sex: a good back rub, and a passionate kiss. A good meal may unlock a man's heart, but a good backrub and a gentle, compassionate kiss is the surest way to unlock my belt buckle.

Ken's a nice guy. Attentive, gentlemanly, social, somewhat attractive (if a bit too small for me -- I like men taller than myself). He's about 5'10 (I'm 5'11"), about 175 pounds, husky, with a softly budding beer belly, short hair, and a scar beneath his nose that I've been afraid to ask him about. He owns his own security business, and sells real estate on the side. Definitely a go getter. He first caught my interest by telling me his father was a famous songwriter, and that he'd grown up in Hollywood, and graduated from Hollywood High.

I've learned from my girlfriends the best way to find out if a man is truly interested is by telling him to get any notions of sex out of his head. "I'm looking for a soul mate, not someone to bounce bellies with." That usually weeds out the losers and the thrill seekers. But it didn't weed out Ken.

I can tell he likes me, a lot, from the constant stream of phone calls and emails that are beginning to border on being pushy. We've only had 3 dates and he's already beginning to take it for granted that we're a couple. Come to think of it, so are my friends, who are already starting to refer to him as my new "husband."

No way! Perish the thought. Okay, he's a nice guy, but he kindles about as much emotion within me as a bowl of refried beans. I've got to lose this guy. I'm just not very good at that sort of thing. The last guy that got too pushy with me, a 6'4", scarey behemoth of a carpenter, pushed me too far, and I left him at a club -- by slipping out the back door and getting a ride home with a friend. I guess I could have said something to his face, but I'm just not good with confrontations.

When Kem called tonight trying to nail me down, I was ready with a long list of excuses. I had plans lined up for every night of the week but Friday. I knew he had his son Nicholas on Friday, and thought he'd want to spend some time with his 7-year old boy -- he only gets to see Nick every other weekend. He surprised me by saying he would get a babysitter. He said he wants to pick up some movies and come by. Oh no, I can smell a night of garlic breath and cheesey romance on the horizon.

Damn it! I've got to be quicker on my feet. I'm just not very good at lying or breaking hearts. When will I ever learn?

<sigh>