Scent of a Woman

I was actually planning a post about all the perfume-related MCs there have been lately, but I read this and decided it needed its own.

Missed connection with my date tonight - w4m (Downtown)

We've been seeing each other for a few months, and I thought you were into me. I know I'm into you; you're smart, we share interests, we quote Shakespeare at each other. It doesn't hurt that I think you're pretty hot, and you definitely smell amazing. And when our chemistry's on, it's on. I thought you were into me, too: I'm smart, I laugh at all your jokes and groan at all your puns, you tell me you like how I look, and I get all your allusions except for the '70s pop culture ones (unfortunately that's your favorite kind).

I know not everything's perfect -- you're not over "the love of your life" who left you years and years ago, what we have isn't going to turn into love, you think I put myself down too much, and our age difference makes you feel old sometimes. But for what it is, we have a great thing going: we have a ton in common, we get along well the majority of the time, we're becoming good friends, and the sex is hot.

The last time you stayed over was the first week of September, and frankly, that time sucked -- it was a weeknight, so we were both exhausted and irritable, and didn't have much time together at all. So near the end of this week, I called to see what was going on, and you said the weekend was hectic (of course; my life is too, which is why I agreed to being FWB as long as we're genuinely friends too). But you said Saturday night would probably work. Perfect, I said, since Saturday night was also best for me. We agreed you'd call me once you were sure what your plans were.

I know you're a spontaneous kind of guy, and that's great; I'm not really rigid in my planning either. But since we both have hectic schedules and we're only free at the same time once, it makes sense to arrange in advance that we'll see each other, even if we don't decide exactly what we're doing until later. For you, it's easy: you call me, then maybe an hour later you show up at my place all ready to enjoy a night of spanking, oral sex, and cuddling. But I'm a girl, and I go crazy when I only have an hour's warning. I get your call, and then before you get here, I have to clean my apartment, shower, shave everything below the neck, do my hair and makeup, use about five different kinds of lotion, put on semi-sexy clothes with full-out sexy underwear, get groceries, start making dinner for you, and be sure everything in my apartment is ready.

I'm learning to adapt, though. This time, since I knew you'd come over sometime Saturday evening, I did most of the work in advance. On Friday, besides my normal life, I planned a meal, found and got a DVD I know you'll like, got groceries, and did all the shaving and so forth I could do in advance. This Saturday, I went out and did normal Saturday-morning and -afternoon stuff, but when I got back, I scrubbed the place from floor to ceiling, then showered. When I got out, I did my hair and makeup, chose my outfit, put the underwear on, did what dinner prep I could, then sat around in my bathrobe waiting for you to call and say what time you'd come by.

I expected to get your call around 5 PM -- that's when you usually let me know if you're on your way. I waited until just before 7 to call your cell . . . and got voicemail. I left a breezy message, asking you to let me know what time you're coming, or if something came up and you're not free, let me know so I can do something else. A little while after 8, I called your cell again, and made it to voicemail again. I laughed and kept it light, saying I was trying to work out what I was doing tonight, and I was wondering if you were an option, but if something had come up I'd talk to you later, whatever.

It's now just about 1 AM, and there's no way you're coming tonight. It sucks -- everything, including me, is here and ready for you. All my prep might not be a big deal if I could just postpone it a day or two, but now that we've missed this Saturday, our free nights won't overlap until next Saturday. It sucks that you didn't even call to say you weren't coming; like a fool, I just sat around and waited for you.

It's 1 AM. I have to take off my makeup, and all this uncomfortable underwear you like to see me in. I feel like such a lonely loser.

This made me really sad. I'm glad this girl called herself on it. But hasn't everyone been made a lonely loser of? Hasn't everyone been felt a waste of freshly-shaved skin and pretty underwear? And more to the point, what's the point of a Friend with Benefits if there are no benefits?

Here is someone who has no delusions or romantic deceptions about the relationship she's quasi in, and she still gets let down.

Verdict: MC-cum-lament: Have a poignant summer!