  Cheryl, my former San Diego paramour and I have remained in communication since I left San Diego. My loyal readers will remember that she flew out here in June to visit me. Much fun was had by both of us, and we’ve stayed in touch since. The history is that we were dating in San Diego and went from a casual arrangement of no expectations and great sex to a semi-formalized boyfriend/girlfriend relationship with great sex, but once I made the decision to move to Chicagoland, I was quite clear that I didn’t want a long-distance relationship. She was teary-eyed, but she accepted that I needed to come here, and she accepted my logic as to why I didn’t want to have a long-distance relationship. We agreed to see each other when we could with no strings. Which is a limbo relationship and is completely open to misinterpretation, hurt feelings, and disaster. Note to self which has been consistently ignored: Ain’t no such thing as fuck buddies. Cheryl planned on flying out to see me again next weekend, but lately has been sending me lots of emails telling me how much she misses me.
A clear violation of NSA protocol (No Strings Attached), this behavior reached critical mass on Monday, so I told her we needed to talk. Last night we did. It went well considering, and I’ve decided to condense the conversation into its essential elements so as to not bore readers with trivial details and over-extended dialogue. This is basically what was said: Her: ...But I want us to be serious. Me: No. Her: But I want to. Me: No. Her: Oh, c’mon. Me: No. Don’t wanna, and you can’t make me. Her: (Pauses, then gives up.
) So do you still want me to fly to Chicago next weekend so we can have sex? Me: Yes. Her: Good. So with everything resolved to some sort of mutual satisfaction, I ended the conversation, thanked the Gods for helping me dodge yet another bullet in a lifetime of having dodged more bullets than Keanu Reeves in The Matrix , and I went to bed with the satisfaction that in a week I’d be spending time and having fantastic sex with a woman who I genuinely like and enjoy. Life is good, and maybe Fuck Buddies do exist in this dimension of reality. Then this morning I get an email.
From her. She feels lost. There are things she doesn’t understand. Maybe we can talk when she comes out here. Jesus Fucking Christ on a Motherfucking Crutch. So I mail her back and say that I’d prefer we talk before she fly out so if there are still things that need to be settled, we can settle them now and spend our time playing tourist and further breaking in my sex swing rather than spend it “working things out”.
She agrees. We’ll speak again on Monday. She flies to O’Hare on Friday. Obviously I did not get my point across last night, and I will have to be even clearer if that’s at all possible. The offer will be this: she can come to visit me ONLY with the understanding that it will be a no strings weekend of fun with no emotional attachment. If not, then she cannot come visit me. That’s it. Those are the terms. Take it or leave it.
My sister Susie will no doubt be sending me a big, fat note saying “I TOLD YOU SO”, as she mailed me this morning to inform me officially that she reserves the right to say I TOLD YOU SO when I do stupid shit that she told me not to do. (Susie is my de facto conscience and moral sounding board as I have no conscience and I do not listen to my own advice, only give it. ) In other news, Ruth has confirmed our date for tomorrow. I am indifferent. Her emailed reply was courteous, which is the kiss of death. When women are polite like they’re a flight attendant asking if you want a coke or a bag of nuts, it means you are dead in the water. Shark food. Fish bait. I’ll still go through with the date, if only out of morbid curiosity and because I am not rude and do not break dates.&nbsp;But if she gives me any shit or is a cold fish, I’m bailing on the spot, and I don’t care if I’m polite about it or not. I no longer see the need to be “nice” to women that treat me badly, use me, or play games. There are assholes that tread the Earth, and being nice to them is not a requirement unless you are a Jainist or your name is Rainbow.
Update: Cheryl just mailed me and will call tonight.
Good.
I can get this all settled so I’ll know whether or not next weekend will be free before I go on my date with Ruth tomorrow. That way if by some miracle Ruth is indeed interested and is not an evil, soul-devouring Succubus from the deepest, darkest pit of Hell sent by Satan to torture me, I can book another date with her for next weekend, or possibly Audrey if our phone conversation on Monday goes well. 
