Today OKCupid began enacting their “Real Name Policy”, as detailed in this awful and condescending blog post.
The response has been overwhelmingly negative. Comments on the blog and on Twitter are correctly filled with apprehension and concerns of user safety.
I’ve deleted my account. I’m “out” enough here and on Twitter. I don’t need OKC forcing my hand to choose a name — even if they will accept “Fuckyou” as a valid name (for now!) — just to wait for them to become the new Facebook and build in “valid” name recognition.
It’s really a pity, because Mrs. AP and I met through OKC, and we met Our Well Hung Lover through OKC, but the place no longer holds to the high standards it once had.
When we’re back into looking for a new playmate or partner again, we’ll just have to go hunting for a service that works well for such things. So long OKC. It was good for awhile, but we have to break up.
It’s not me. It’s you.
Stay SINful, friends.
As a follow-up to the conversation Mrs. AP and I had the other night, Mrs. AP asked me what kind of action / relationship / friendship … thing … for which I’m looking. Evidently my stare of confusion was quite audible even in the dark of our bedroom at night, because she rephrased the question, asking “Are you just looking for some boy bits to play with or are you looking for somebody more long term and permanent for a relationship.” I still needed clarification, however, so in response I asked “do you mean as just a playful swinger kind of thing or as a more poly boyfriend situation kind of distinction?”
“Yes, exactly; play for fun or long-term play?”
I mulled this over in my head some before answering slowly and deliberately “What I want right now is just playful fun with boy parts, for us to suck and fuck and get fucked. That’s what I’m craving. Sexy fun time with another guy or two.”
Truth be told — and that’s why I’m here, right? — that’s not the entirety of what I want. I don’t think it ever has been one or the other for me; it’s always been both.
Hello again, SINful Friends. It’s been some time since I’ve posted anything of substance, hasn’t it? My dearest apologies. Many happenings have intruded upon my writing schedule (what schedule? Hah!), so today shall be a combination of recounting all we’ve missed over the last year and some musings over the future of things. So grab a snack, pour a glass, and get comfy. Potential exists for this to take some time.
Mrs. AP and I had a night out Friday night with SCS and her boyfriend. Well, I should rephrase: half the night was SCS and several of her other friends, the other half of the night SCS’ boyfriend joined us. He was busy for the first half of the night with an income-producing venture, yet he’s currently without clearance to drive, so SCS provides him transportation whenever such opportunities present themselves.
Mrs. AP and I were both feeling better than we had previously in the month, mostly thanks to rest over the previous few days and a healthy dose of drugs designed to let us behave as normal human beings again. While we’re both rather traditionalist and wary of what substances we ingest, thank goodness for modern medicine!
Over the course of the many discussions held over the evening, one theme became apparent; SCS and her boyfriend quite often live very separate lives. Granted, they’ve only been living together a short while, but it struck Mrs. AP and I as being a bit odd that a committed couple would be relatively heavily involved in having social lives that often do not involve one’s partner. Mrs. AP and I simply do not operate that way.
The past few weeks have been the most interesting — and by interesting I mean alternating between frustrating and exhilarating — time for Mrs. AP and I. When last we spoke, Mrs. AP and I were both feeling rather rejuvenated following a wonderful time out at a live electronic dance music show. This warm uplifting afterglow continued only a few more days before we both started coming down sick. First Mrs. AP, followed by myself a few days later, fell brutal victim to something that resulted in sinuses wanting to erupt like Krakatoa before the whole attacking system move south into the chest. As a former asthmatic, I have not felt pressure like that in my chest, nor coughed that long as hard, since my pre-teen days. This felt like every sports team in New York had decided to permanently squat upon my lungs for days. Whatever it is that assaulted me, I do not recommend it.
In the midst of this descending corruption of our immune systems, Mrs. AP and I managed to get in another Friday night with our friends from the dance floor. SCS has some business plan in mind and wanted Mrs. AP, who has a keen financial acumen, to review her plans. The venue of the meeting wasn’t the most conducive to discussing business plans, and all of us where in some portion of not feeling our best, so the discussion was more generalized than specific. It may end up being a worthwhile endeavor with which Mrs. AP and I may be involved, but right now a great many of the details still have to be flushed out. We’ll have to see how well further discussions along that vein run. Besides, one of the fastest ways to kill a friendship is to mix it with business ventures, and we’d rather keep friends than lose them if we can.
Speaking of keeping and losing friends, things appear to have gone rather sideways with Our Crush. We had a lovely time with him later in the night after our night out at the live show, and thought we’d made progress toward establishing a good on between us all. Mrs. AP and I may have been mistaken in that regard; in the two weeks since our last time together, Our Crush has initiated a conversation with one of us fewer than 5 combined times. As a result, Mrs. AP and I are feeling rather disheartened.
This past Friday was good for Mrs. AP and I in ways neither of us foresaw! We both feel alive in ways we’d forgotten. I’ve re-fallen in love with her, awakened anew to how amazing and beautiful a woman she is. Music I once adored and then let drift away from my consciousness has slammed back into me with the force of a lightning strike. Even work, which I had grown to dread, is now just a slight annoyance. My step has bounce. For that matter, so does my sit; I have danced in my chair nearly endlessly the past few nights.
Furthermore, our social calendar has metamorphosed from dusty and barren to teaming with life! Old friendships are being rekindled, new friendships are budding, and our relationship with Our Crush is steadily blossoming. For the first time that I can recall we are coordinating schedules with multiple people outside the home. Events, gatherings, and perhaps even potential dates are being discussed more than one week in advance. These changes are wholeheartedly welcome and embraced! We surely have needed them!
I wish just such happiness on all of you as well.
Stay SINful, friends.
Dating is a confusing enough subject between only 2 people these days. If it wasn’t, there wouldn’t be things like college lectures on how hook-up culture is killing dating. Run a Google Search for Modern Dating, and the top results include multiple posts via the Huffington Post and a (self serving?) post on Match.com. Nearly every magazine available in the checkout line at the larger grocery stores include articles on how to date, how to look best for the first date, how to behave on the first date, how to hold attention after the first date, etc. Constantly there is this bombardment on how and why and when and who to date. The endless barrage of information is maddening.
This is made even more difficult trying to be a Poly couple in search of the elusive Single Bi Male. Mrs. AP and I have been looking, either actively or passively, for the better part of 18 months now. We’ve been more dedicated at some times than others, of course. Our search is, however, hindered by the fact that we can’t simply follow the traditional in-person routine that two single people can. Bars are, essentially, out, which is fine as we don’t really frequent them anyway. We could theoretically meet somebody out at the club, or even at a restaurant or diner or store, but having to explain Poly to somebody who’s never heard of it — in person — leads to more ludicrous looks than is often worth them time. Thus, relying on various online social and dating sites is the fallback on which we need rely.
We’ve had some luck through them. We met Our Crush online first, and have since arranged all three of our dates that way. So far it seems to be working. It is also mildly exhausting. Mrs. AP put it best the other night when she asked if we can just move beyond the dating stage to the relationship stage. She’s right, of course, in that knowing how to act and react inside an established relationship is easier when one (or two) has been out of The Dating Game for as long as we have. Traditional timing and molds don’t seem to carry over in a one to one ratio. Pace, expectation, and the timeline of the relationship all seem to get thrown into a state of turmoil. Lily Lloyd of theblackletherbelt.com calls it The Relationship Escalator. To quote her:
The escalator looks something like this:
> Dating > Sex > Moving In Together > Getting Married > Getting a Mortgage > Having Kids
This progression doesn’t work — may not even be possible to work — when it comes to Mrs. AP and I looking for a potential long-term member of what may very well become a Poly Triad. Restrictions are in place in many ways. Legally, at least within the United States, we may never be able to progress as a Triad from the “Moving in Together” stage to the “Getting Married” stage. The legal standings for such a Marriage are, at best, tenuous. That doesn’t necessarily prevent skipping that stage to the “Getting a Mortgage” part, but in this economy that’s more a pipe dream than anything else. As for kids, Mrs. AP and I already have several children between us in addition to our devastating miscarriage together just a few months ago. We’re not getting any younger, either; the likelihood of complications arising are a notable, worrisome prospect. What, then, is a Poly couple who’s met a wonderfully compatible third person to do?
In the past two weeks Mrs. AP and I have had two dates with Our Crush. In both cases what started out as short dates evolved into very long amounts of time spent over at his place, with a great deal of making out involved. The first date, in fact, lasted ten hours, the last two to three hours of which were spent with a great deal of kissing and neck nibbling and running fingernails up and down various body parts… all without any clothing being removed. The second date at his house did lead to all clothing on all parties eventually coming off, but only after yet another long period of making out and teasing and foreplay.
Mrs. AP and I have our fair share of threesomes with another man under our collective belt, considering our long-held Triad with her soon-to-be-ex-husband and our dalliances with both Our Well Hung Lover and a long standing friend of hers, but never before have either of us — nor Our Crush, if I guess correctly — been involved in a scenario where there was truly equal attention and desire among all three people. Each of us wanted, desired, and gave attention to the other two freely and equally without need of conscious thought toward the matter. It was more a matter of each of us not being able to get enough of the other two than any one of us feeling pressured to give attention to one of the other people. We were the closest to a true Triad I’ve ever experienced, with lines of energy connected each of the three pairs of us — him and her; her and me; him and me — along with a continuous loop connecting us all that was exhilarating and powerful. I wrote once of wanting the kind of Triad where each of us makes the other two stronger; I got a taste of what that can be like as we all rolled around in bed together.
All of us, regardless of background, can trace many of our adult behaviors to either the environment in which we were raised or the character of those who helped raise us, if not both. While there are exceptions to all cases, generally speaking somebody who is raised in an abusive environment will seek escape from the reality of that environment in some form of self-destructive behavior, which then carries on into adulthood. Similarly, a person who is raised in a protected environment may be ignorant of some of the dangers posed by a less gentle, less forgiving segment of society. Those raised in areas in which overt racism is present may be more aware of the effects of how prejudices alter perception, and those raised in areas free of such societal pressures may not understand how deeply run the roots of those prejudices may lie.
I’ve spoken of it before, but for those unaware, the vast majority of my life has been spent living in states south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Additionally, my parents are devout Lutheran Christians, which meant I spent a good portion of my weekends and my afternoons during the Advent and Lent seasons inside a church building. The combination of living in the Buckle of the Bible Belt with deeply devout parents meant that I was nearly always surrounded by people who believed to their deepest cores that the Christian Bible is irrefutably sacrosanct, literally true, and an absolute guide for moral behavior. This belief extended to most major areas of notable Conservative dispute, particularly the areas surrounding evolution and human sexuality. I was taught to belief — and encouraged when reciting or defending the belief — that evolution is not scientifically valid and that humans lived alongside dinosaurs. Any belief in the evidence provided by the fossil record was disputed or discarded simply because it did not fit within dogmatic. Simply put, the scientific method was considered irrelevant and, in a fashion that seems to be uniquely American, cast aside not to be thoughtfully discussed.
As I look back to that time in my life, I often feel shame at being sucked into the arguments provided. My blind faith in the absolute correctness of the Biblical accounts of things being the only way “things could have happened” was borderline fanatical, and impervious to rational arguments challenging my beliefs. Thankfully, my parents taught me to be discerning and thoughtful and to never stop reading, which led to broadening my lens and finding additional information that debunked and thoroughly refuted my prior beliefs. My hypothesis had been wrong, and when presented with overwhelming evidence I was forced to adjust my beliefs to better hold with the evidentiary truth. In just such a manner was I also forced to adjust my views on human sexuality.
Life in the AP household has been a rollercoaster lately, as some of my more recent posts may have conveyed. I feel the need to issue a brief recap, so here goes.
- Online chats with Our Date have gone well. The more we talk the more Mrs. AP and I both like him. There seems to be great potential here.
- Illness has struck the AP house over the past week, first with the kids and now with Mrs. AP. It has prevented additional dates with Our Date just yet.
- The job for which I interviewed in March and was promised in April (and reassured was coming my way “as soon as viably possible in May, June, July, and August) has been pulled off the table. This is simultaneously a terrible disappointment and a great relief, as now Mrs. AP and I are out of the holding pattern of awaiting an offer letter.
- We have zero plans for Thanksgiving (celebrated in the U.S. on the fourth Thursday in November, e.g. two days from now.) I am somehow unperturbed by this. If Mrs. AP is still suffering from cold-like symptoms, our meal will be simple and focused of getting her healthy foods that will aid her recovery.
- My birthday is at the end of the month. Mrs. AP is planning an all night celebration that includes Our Date. The possibilities are limitless. So is my excitement.
Good things are coming. I can feel it. I just hope we’re ready.
Stay SINful, friends.
He was even cuter in person than his pictures conveyed. Mrs. AP and I gave him hugs and sat down opposite him. We were late, and apologized profusely. It was my fault; my nap ran long. In short turn that ceased to matter. Conversation flowed smoothly. Those awkward pauses never materialized. Those uncomfortable silences never presented themselves. It was if we all just fell into that comfortable association that only comes when kindred spirits gather. It was warm and refreshing and exciting.
Nearly a week has passed. Between Mrs. AP and I we’ve both been talking to him nearly every night. He’s charming, intelligent, and our kind of geek. He’s different enough to bring an interesting addition to our existing dynamic. He’s similar enough for there to be a strong likelihood of good cohesion. Best of all, he makes us both smile. We’re putting together a scheme for a long night together at the end of the month or very early next month, conveniently near the anniversary of my birth.
Sometimes being Bi and Poly certainly has it’s advantages.
This was a Wicked Wednesday post. Visit the Wicked Wednesday page to see other participants.
Stay SINful, friends.
We’ve all been there at one point in our live or another; the date that doesn’t work out, the job interview that pans, the attempted hookup with another couple that ends with everybody frustrated. Okay, maybe we haven’t all had that last experience, but you get my point already, right? Sometimes, despite the best laid plans, despite the best intentions, and despite the best effort… things don’t work out. How we deal with these times determines how we bounce back from them. Moving forward isn’t an option, after all; we must, or we get left behind. So how, then, do we recover from something that leaves us embarrassed, confused, hurt, crushed, or destroyed?
Everybody has a different coping mechanism, and not everybody applies the same mechanism to every scenario. Life is filled with disappointment in all forms after all, and I know I react much differently to a favorite sports team losing than I do to a date going badly. I expect most reasonable people behave in similar fashions, although I cannot guarantee this applies to the die-hard baseball or football fans I’ve seen sink into depressions because the team lost one lousy game.
When it comes to being Single, Poly, or a Swinger the bad date brings with it the added element of a missed (or botched) sexual opportunity. It may not be the first date, second date, or even tenth date, but at some point in the dating process the comes the expectation of mutual sexual congress. The anticipation grows, the expectations rise, and eventually the clothing falls. With this heightened element comes the heightened perception of risk, reward, and failure. We come away from a successful encounter feeling like we have accomplished something incredible and worthwhile. There is potential for More, in whatever form that may take. Conversely, an unsuccessful encounter leaves us lost, bewildered, or worse. We question ourselves, our choice in potential Other, the venue, the timing, the conversation, etc. Success breeds success, they say, and every time we miss that mark the self-doubt kicks in and establishes yet another foot-hold. Both cycles become self-fulfilling prophecies. The trick, then, is to actively focus on creating the cycle we want while avoiding that which we do not desire.
I’ve not touched on Polyamory in my life here on the blog a great deal lately. It’s been over a month since I posted about realizing that a part of me wants the idealized Poly unit. At the time I was perfectly sincere, but I was missing a key component that has been preventing — and in fact, destroyed chances — for me to realize that dream. As it turns out, I’ve not been as ready for a truly Polyamorous lifestyle as I thought I was. I did not properly prepare myself, nor did I seek out the advice of those who have been Poly for years or decades. My own ignorance and inability to see beyond myself failed me and my partners. I failed Mrs. AbsinthePassion, while simultaneously being exactly what I thought she needed. Things I said and did were wrong, flat out, and here now is my confession.
In many states throughout the U.S., there are two questions asked by the wait staff upon entering a restaurant before the party is seated; “How many in your party?” and “Smoking or Non-Smoking Section?” The answers to these two questions determines both location within the establishment and the potential wait time before a table is available. However, in many states (such as Florida) the “Smoking or Non-Smoking” question is not asked thanks to a law passed a few years back known as the Florida Clean Indoor Air Act. The act banned smoking in public buildings such as libraries, indoor malls, airports, government facilities, and business buildings. It also bans smoking in restaurants that earn more than a certain percentage of total income from food sales (I believe this number sits between 30 and 40 percent, although I cannot confirm this with the official statutes at this time.) It’s been 10 years since the voter-passed amendment instituted this ban, and it’s been wonderful for me. But I got to thinking today, where else might a smoking ban be useful?
Friday night Mrs. AP and I had a date 3 weeks in the making. It wasn’t Vanilla per se — we discussed Poly and BDSM and a portion of the local community — but it wasn’t wholly Non-Vanilla either. Turns out there’s a gray, blended area where Vanilla and Non-Vanilla swirl together into what I hencefoth deem Vanilla-esque. Aren’t I catchy?
Said date was Non-Vanilla in multiple ways beyond the topics discussed. Our date, Rigger, found our profiles on OKCupid and sent us both messages, which led quickly into talks of profiles on FetLife. Perving on FetLife turned to becoming friends on FetLife, where the vast majority of the conversations have taken place between us. This is where one of my recent posts rings true; I’d had several chances to begin conversation with Rigger but failed to do so simply by waiting for him to start. Ooops. I’m a dumbass.
So through FetLife we arranged a date, finally, and thanks to certain life circumstances leaving no other options the date occurred with Princess and Tank in tow. This necessitated having the date at not only a public space, which we always do for meeting somebody for the first time, but also a family friendly public space. Right. Cheap family-oriented chain restaurant to the rescue!
There’s a term nearly everybody in the Swinger world, the BDSM world, and the Polyamorous world is familiar with, summarized in one neat, pretty, sparkly mental image of one word: Unicorn. On the surface it’s a simple term, relating to the mythical creature of lore that is rumored to exist but is nearly impossible to find. Furthermore, once found, it’s nearly impossible to keep, for after all, nobody can really own a unicorn. Anybody who’s ever seen the film Legend knows that much.
There becomes a problem of definition among different groups, though. I didn’t know this until recently, when a discussion broke out among several discussion groups on FetLife. When “The Group” was asked to provide a definition of a Unicorn, the responses that came back astounded me. The most broad definition (and the one with which I was most familiar) is a single woman who is willing and eager to join an existing couple for sexual escapades. Turns out, among some circles, this definition is far too broad and is refined to the point so that nearly nobody could ever be found to meet it. For example, one person (and I paraphrase) said that a true Unicorn is a young, naive, beautiful woman who agrees to move in with a couple sight unseen to be a sub/slave to the Dom Master male of the house, is only allowed to engage in sex acts with the Dom Master male unless he specifically orders her to engage in sex acts with other females in the house. I was floored. I never thought to include such restrictive terms in the definition, much less construe the chutzpah it would take to tell a woman that I could play with other vaginas but she was limited to only a single penis. The lack of balance there is astounding. But it got me thinking, if somebody can define a Unicorn in this fashion, are there other unexplored definitions that could come to be applied?
I’m a reader. Always have been, as far back as I can remember. Sitting down to breakfast I’d read the back of the cereal box, and when that ran out I’d read the sides. I started bringing a book to the table as soon as I could, to the point where I clearly remember reading at the table out at restaurants back during my elementary school years while waiting for my food to arrive. At any given time I’m usually reading at least one book, sometimes 2 or 3. With the advent of eReader software on my Android phone I can keep that limited to one book at a time and get through each one faster, but before then I used to have my “reading at work” book and my “reading at home” book. It’s one of the reasons I love finding a good blog so much; I get something entertaining, engaging, and inspirational to read. Such blogs are key reasons behind Mrs. AP and I taking the plunge to start our own online digest of our thoughts at adventures.
Mrs. AP shares my love of reading, and much to our non-surprise we like many of the same authors and themes. We both came into the relationship with a love of the Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter series by Laurell K. Hamilton. Sure, there are vampires and werewolves and everything else that is popular in op culture now, regardless of the fact that the first book in the (now 21 book) series was published in 1993. For those keeping score at home, that is the year before the film version of Interview With The Vampire was released.) What is also heavily present in the majority of the last half of the series so far is that the main character has an incredibly active sex life with her multiple boyfriends. She struggles with the moral implications of dating multiple men, of fucking multiple men, and after several books finally comes to accept that she does love — and often deeply — multiple men at once. It was this series that served as my backdrop to Polyamory long before I knew the name for the term, and in fact still serves (perhaps naively) as the best working example I know of how to maintain an open and positive Poly household.
In the most recent release, the main character has a few chapters early on with two of her main boyfriends where she releases her life is incredibly fulfilled by all the men in her life in different ways but most fulfilled when it’s just that small trio. While I realize for the novelization purposely, for both profit and story telling models, must romanticize and idealize such a relationship structure, it still makes me think back to when Mrs. AP and I first started dating, when I was trying to date both her and her husband at the same time, and how I felt she and I worked hard to make the 3 of us a working, equal Triad. I realized, seeing the three characters in the book, that I was searching for that perfect example, that idealized Triad, and that my search continues.
I may have mentioned this before, but one of the things I love and hold very dear about Mrs. AbsinthePassion is how well she not only communicates with me but also insists I communicate with her. I know she gets frustrated with me sometimes on how untimely I become in forgetting how to be a good communicator, but she bears with me patiently nonetheless so that we can work through whatever issue is at hand.
Last night that came into play again. After a conversation with one of our friends, Mrs. AP stumbled upon a bit of a revelation; she has massive stress attacks when considering our next visit to Eyz Wide Shut, and not for the reasons she first thought. We thought at first that the issue was the lack of quality single men (and anybody, really) during our first visit. We tried to chalk that up to having gone on a Thursday, which is a notoriously slow night for any swinging establishment, we know. My work schedule only allows us time out of the house together on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday evenings, though, so we know any chance of making it out on a Saturday are rather nonexistent, and the pricing on Thursday nights, for a trial run, was more than reasonable. As a first time, we thought we could make something good of it, and we did.
Do you ever make plans for something and have to change them at nearly the last minute? Sure you have. We all go through that, most of us more than once. Life never follows the script we try to provide, and like good actors we all learn to improvise our lines along the way. This week is one of those weeks for Mrs. AbsinthePassion and I.
We had it all planned out to go to Eyz Wide Shut on Friday, but a confluence of a monthly biological visitor coming to visit alone with a different opportunity have combined to push that visit to next week. That’s not so bad, though, as next Friday is Corset Night! This means Mrs. AP can wear the more Goth outfit she would normally wear when we go out on Friday nights, we’ll just be somewhere other than The Castle for a change. As for our other opportunity?
A guy we’ve been talking with on OKCupid off and on since January is in town for the weekend. We have a date planned to help him celebrate his birthday. Its the first meeting in person for all of us, so we’re playing it safe with dinner and maybe coffee afterwards, all in very public places. Mrs. AP and I take no chances! J, our date, is a smart guy, and we’ve all hit it off well online. It’s just a matter of seeing how things go in person. No pressure. More of a meet and greet. Good food, good people, good conversation. Good time.
Stay SINful, friends.
I wrote yesterday about how my first interpersonal sexual experience was with one of my best friends, and how it was scary and nerve-wracking and exciting and wonderful all at the same time. Sometimes a first encounter is like that; the two people know each other well enough to work well together long enough to make something special happen. Other times aren’t always so magnificent, but as life milestones they become resilient in memory nevertheless. Such was the case for me during my 10th grade year of High School, when I had my series of firsts with my girlfriend at the time, B.
In the summer of 1996, at 15 years old, my Air Force father was relocated from Patrick Air Force Base in Melbourne, FL to Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery, AL. We were quasi-familiar with the area and intimately familiar with the base; we’d been stationed there from 1986 to 1993, but had lived in the suburb of Prattville that first run through. This time we were “in the city”, and I was entering High School as “the new kid.” Granted, I wasn’t the only one. Military-heavy cities see a high population cycle for “Brats”, and this particular school was no different.
One of the difficulties was finding somebody to date. Most of my classmates came up through Elementary and Junior High together, so they had rapport established and knew where all the social circle boundaries lie. I got to try to navigate that new landscape blindly, feeling my way carefully around who I liked and had a reasonable chance of having my interest reciprocated. Come mid-October, I had firmly established crushes on C, D, and B. (See, even then I was Poly and didn’t know it!) The only problem I had was, I could not for the life of me tell if any of them even had a glimmer of an interest in me. I looked for ever sign I could, but as a dense, hormonally driven, geek of a teenager I had no clue the signs to look for. None.
Until I got a note from B. She had a thing for me and wanted me all to herself. So I took that note and ran with it, and by Thanksgiving we were a couple. I swore up and down, good little Christian boy that I was at the time, that I wasn’t go to try anything with her. That didn’t last long. (more…)