That's probably very bad advice if you have a pet. But I think it's the right thing to do with my pretty young trannypunk.
As if the month of silence weren't enough (which: it wasn't, since I recently learned that The (Ex)Girlfriend isn't moving out until the 15th, inspiring new hope that he might still get in touch when she finally does amscray), he recently posted an entry to his livejournal about how he's realized that casual sex makes him feel like the person just thinks of him as a sex object. Considering that I basically offered him no-strings-attached-sex on a platter, well... ouch.
So I wrote him an email. Which went thusly:
Read your post. I'm not narcissistic enough to think it was actually about me in any way, but it did make me think, shit, did I make him feel like that too? So I thought I'd just take a minute to tell you that as much as I did try very hard (in my pathetic way) to seduce you, I figured out early on that you're more than a pretty boy I sometimes can't avoid.
Actually, the fact that you're smart and talented and radical and a little crazy and surprising and sweet and thoughtful and actually kinda grounded and self-aware for someone whose life is as chaotic and confusing as yours, is all part of why I made my pathetic attempts to seduce you in the first place. If all it took was pretty to get my panties damp I'd be having a lot more sex than I am. A lot. (Seriously. You might be surprised at how much sex I'm not having.)
Which is all to say, I very genuinely like you, as a person, even if you suddenly had a hot-ectomy or whatever. And I want good things to happen for you. And I'm glad you're getting some time to slow down and think about shit. And I hope you do whatever you need for your own self. And I've got no agenda in writing this, btw. I'm no longer trying to get in your pants. (Which isn't to say I wouldn't still welcome an invitation to your pants, but I get that I'm not going to get one anytime in the predictable future.) Just wanted you to know.
Not Shakespeare, but I feel much lighter. Like I can now just bookend the whole experience and file it under "Ones That Got Away (Subcategory: Bad Timing)" Which isn't to say that I'm not nursing a tiny hope that the email itself will inspire him to call me up and rekindle things. I'm not superwoman. I'm just no longer giving that more than a 5% chance of happening.
Meanwhile: date with The Charmer tomorrow night! Wish me luck...