Shallow AND Whorish

Ashley Madison guy has now sent me a picture and he is not as hot as the imaginary guy in my head. I am thinking that he is an old looking 34, or maybe a 40 year old liar.
It occurs to me, however, that perhaps this makes me both shallow and whorish. It also occurs to me that it is perhaps not a problem. After all, this is my fantasy life and emotional vacation and if I say no fatties, no baldies, no oldies then that is certainly my prerogative.

Interesting side issue: now that I have agreed to meet for a drink how do I get out of it...I refuse to wind up in a situation where I am meeting other people's needs to avoid hurting feelings. That would be an old pattern - one I am not interested in repeating.
I have to value myself enough to operate on my own terms and only for myself.
It is not like this is real life anyway, it is pretend life and I get to both make and break the rules...

Gentlemen, idle those engines!

I signed into AshleyMadison.com today for the first time since logging on over the weekend and I had SIXTY messages in my inbox. Sixty messages from a wide variety of men, all of whom are married, and ten of which had the audacity to send me pictures (by the way: FYI - dicks in West Virginia are apparently smaller than those in other places and yet people will still send you unsolicited, proud pictures of them. Intriguing.)
The incredible thing is that several of the men who sent pictures are from my city. I have never talked to them online: I COULD BE THEIR WIFE. Or their sister. Or their kid's teacher.
I find it incredible that they are assuming that no one they know, or that knows their wife, could have possibly discovered this cite. It is not like it is advertised on TV or anything...oh wait, it is?
There is also a certain arrogance to whoring-it up on the Internet and assuming that your wife couldn't possibly be out there looking herself.

I have been emailing with the nice man I chatted with over the weekend. He seems...nice. Or, he has an email address and seems like he puts out. Just as pink is the new black, email and putting out are the new nice. Additionally, he has not expressed any intentions of killing me and burying me in a shallow grave, which seems like a promising sign.

The bottom of the infidelity barrel!

Tonight, accompanied by a solid sense of self-judgement, I went on AshleyMadison.com. It is uber-creepy. No less than eight different men messaged me, some with a simple hello and some with...well, substantially more. My surprise at this might inspire one to ask, "well, what did YOU THINK was going to happen. Which is, I suppose, a valid point.

AshleyMadison.com is not particularly interesting or intriguing. The bottom line is: these men have no idea who I am, what I look like, what I think, or who I might be. It is not as though they are looking at me from across a room and thinking "she has a nice smile" or "she is a pretty girl" or "she looks smart." They are trolling, online for hours, looking for anyone. The fact that they are not interested in me, even in that incredibly superficial first glance kind of way, is a huge turnoff.

That being said, I did have a brief chat with one very nice gentleman (the only one I even responded to, actually), which had a promising, interesting nature to it. I did not give him my real name (although he gave me his, or so he says...) but I did give him my anonymous, just for naughty-business, email address. We will see, we will see.

The funniest thing I found on AshleyMadison.com: I was reading the profile of one gentleman and under interests he listed "classical music" and "spanking". Classical music and spanking. Classical Music. And. Spanking. I am still giggling a little...

Careful what you wish for...

I feel a little raw tonight. Not raw as in Britney Spear's dancing on a stripper pole *RAW*. But raw as in introspective and uncomfortable.
I am feeling very down and antsy and restless. I am lonely, disconnected. I think that I want someone who is crazy about me in my life. Someone who wants to talk to me, email me, see me, text me, can't get enough of me! I would adore to be adored. Or, maybe even I would adore to be thought of: a text, a brief email, just something to let me know someone is thinking of me and that I matter to them.
So, if this is the case, what am I really looking for? An exit strategy? Hmmm.

Recognition

After my last post it probably took me less then my hour long walk to fully digest and recover from the been-goodbyed feeling in my chest. Frankly, it took me longer to recover from having to say goodbye to the West Wing after the series finale. Which is an indication of how invested I was in that relationship. However, I have realized how profoundly invested I was in the idea of the relationship: the aspect of fantasy, the seeking of time/space outside of my everyday life, the emotional vacation.

The five minute chat and the occasional text definitely provided that escape. And having that escape, knowing that I could have that bubble outside myself and my life, has really made me happier within the confines of my existence and my marriage. But what now? Do I look for a new escape? Do I need to seek something out? Is it possible that giving myself permission is enough? Well, maybe for now - while I wait and see what the universe might throw my way.

I have a very powerful, confident energy right now. I feel as though I have been underwater for the better part of a decade and that I am surfacing to myself again. I feel a real sense of recognition: I remember this girl and I like her as much now as I did when I used to know her.