I keep thinking that someday, my various romantic interests will read this blog and I'll be in deep doo doo, especially those who overlap a tad. But my latest entanglements are both hilarious and heart-wrenching.

You all know my penchant for referring to my love interests via some nome de plume to both preserve their anonymity and as well as to define some unique quality for the purpose of distinguishing each in these yarns of woe and shame. Okay, perhaps my sex life isn't exactly woe and shame, but it's safe to say I'm sure my grandmother has turned over in her grave a few times -- and if a corpse could blush, I'm sure hers was a deep shade of crimson.

Only one has ever been named publicly in this blog, and that is only because he is deceased and as he meant so much to me, it felt odd to give him any cutesy qualifier other than his own name of Steven.

The Players

Currently there are four main players and the occasional peripheral possibility not cited here, but in reality, one in particular will dominant this post. But let's gloss through the other contenders first.

Mr. Mono -- This one is a musician and a writer. We went on a couple of dates a year ago and seemed to have lost touch. I've lost nearly 40 lbs since then and when he saw me at this latest date recently he definitely noticed. We share the creative spirit among a few other commonalities including the same age (both 40), but he's so fearful of being tied down it's almost frustrating dating him.

He thankfully isn't just about the booty call. He likes substance and we have great conversations, talking for hours before even the slightest brush of a touch takes place. Our most recent date was a about three weeks ago. In fact, my dear friend went into labor that same night. Much of our date was spent on alert waiting for the followup call whether or not to head for the hospital, but we managed to get in some nice kissing and a bit more.

We both kept trying to make a repeat date of it since we had such a great evening, but about a week to two weeks following that last date, he came down with a nasty cold he couldn't shake, paired with some pretty extreme fatigue. Turns out he has Mono which may have now escalated into Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and for a while, I was on infection alert. Gestation is roughly 4-6 weeks so I'm on infection alert, but I think I'm out of the woods now. At least we both had a sense of humor about it.

Mr. Shifty and Vague aka Already Committed -- This one was persistent. He had my IM moniker from some previous interaction and almost daily I would find an offline message from him simply saying, "Hi". This went on for months actually. Finally we met at a local mall for coffee and snacks. Other than an exchange of photos, it was the first time we were meeting in person. He's the only first date I can remember that immediately introduced himself with a kiss on the lips. It was more than a peck, and a bit less than something with intensity. He was very cute, so I didn't mind that much. I learned that he was 35 years old and working in the financial industry and working on an MBA.

We had two more dates after that and I confess I enjoyed his company immensely. He was intelligent, playful, and sexy. The second date we went to a local sports bar and played a few of the table games. Pool and air hockey were a blast. The third date was watching the sunset at Dockweiler Beach with lots of kissing and cuddling.

His only flaw it seemed up to that point was an over-eagerness to get too physical too fast. I've had obnoxious dates before. He wasn't obnoxious, just a bit too eager.

But soon, I was seeing the wave of red flags. The first was that he always wanted the physicality to take place in his or my car. If one or both of you has an apartment or a more private place to go, that is typically the suggestion rather than "let's make out in my car." If the chemistry and attraction are there and a respectable amount of dates/time has passed, I'm not opposed to things becoming a tad more physical, but something told me to keep the brakes on where this guy was concerned. Which I did.

The entire first meet felt like something from my high school days.

Flag two: Each time we conversed, it was usually via IM, and usually offline, or  by text message or exchanged voice mails. I noticed the live phone conversations rarely seemed to happen or only after he "stepped outside so he wouldn't disturb his roommate" if at night, but typically the calls only happened during daytime hours on his work breaks.

He kept referring to a roommate (male), but that behavior smacks of someone in a committed relationship. After the third date, he seemed to drop off the face of the earth, and I suspect it's good riddance. He was fun, but I think I was right to keep my guard up with him.

Mr. Hotlips -- This one's an oldie but a goody. He's a 28 year old former colleague I dated a year ago. He was the one mentioned in previous posts that to date has reigned as the absolute best kisser. We dated about a month, and then ended it for a variety of reasons. We remained in touch as colleagues do, but nothing further romantically. Until recently.

He started a new job about 6 or 8 months ago and has remained incredibly busy. I often invite him as well as and along with other former colleagues, but he rarely takes me up on it citing his hectic life. However I needed his expertise on a work project and sent him an offline message expecting a response later. He never answered my question but instead said he'd come over and hang out that weekend.

We shared a love of the same TV programs, and after spending an hour catching up, we passed the time watching the latest recorded episodes of Heroes, and SciFi's "Stargate Atlantis" & "The Sanctuary".

Soon his work pager went off and he informed me a server went down and he needed to jump into action. The evening was over. I walked him to his car. Again we talked some more, and for a split second, I could have sworn he wanted to kiss me goodnight, but he hesitated. I didn't encourage him at that moment, because when we parted ways a year ago, we remained friends, but with an understanding that we did not want to rekindle anything.

He walked around to his driver's side door, opened it and looked my way one last time. I don't know why, but I called out to him. He took a few steps in my direction so that he could hear me better. "You know what I miss?" I could instantly see the grin on his face. He knew what I was going to say before I get the words out and had already swiveled on his heel so fast. He was spinning his body in my direction and making a beeline straight for me before I could finish my thought and say, "Your kisses."

Dumb as I can sometimes be, I paused and said, "You don't have to. I was just remembering..." but before I could finish, he mumbled, "Why not!" and proceeded to turn my knees into jelly with one of his most excellent kisses that did nothing to tarnish my memories of our previous encounters a year before.

I expect nothing to come of this. It was more of a "for old times sake" kind of kiss. But he is always welcome to come watch SciFi with me any time. <WINK>

And Now for the Heart-Wrenching

Mr. FWB -- This favorite has been a prominent fixture in my posts from the beginning. I'm going to have to change this one's nickname since things have changed, but for the purpose of this post, I'll leave it for now. He is a lovely, kind, sexy, caring, intelligent, hardworking, stable gentleman who's captured my heart. Throughout to the present, he's reiterated that he doesn't want a serious relationship, hence the nickname, "Friends With Benefits", but over the two years we've been together, it's clear his affections for me and mine for him have grown.

He may say he doesn't want anything serious, but his actions over time have escalated to that of a caring friendship at the very least, and to some degree, even that of a more emotionally intimate and romantic way.

In the beginning, it was clearly just about sex for both of us, and comfort for me after Steven's death. I really wasn't ready in the very beginning for a relationship as I was still grieving to some degree. In fact, throughout the relationship, I never expected anything more and was always pleasantly surprised as time went on when his actions were that of a boyfriend, rather than a mere conjugal partner. As time passed and I healed more, I may have hoped it was turning into more, but I always tried to keep the FWB relationship in perspective.

Truth be told, he is the kind of man I want. If he were to change his mind, in a heart beat, I'd be there and ready for life's next romantic journey with him and only him at my side.

In the beginning the sex was horrible. In fact, I'm really surprised it persisted past that first time. He actually called me after to make sure I was alright and to apologize. I think he felt personally responsible, although I felt it was a lackluster performance on both our parts, but I guess he thought he had to prove something and so made sure his repeat performance was nothing less than his personal best.

I believe it was simply two people not really knowing each other and it took some time to find what worked for each of us. Add to it at the time I met him, we both were pretty out of shape. Sex is a physical workout requiring strength, stamina, and flexibility, few of which either of us really had. Not to mention he's built like a tank. As a former Navy man, He's 6'2" and around 270 lbs., and every time he'd lay on top of me, he'd crush me. He had to suspend his weight above me during missionary, rather than lay with full force on top of me pushing my own abdomen up into my diaphragm making it nearly impossible to breathe.

With each encounter, my stamina and flexibility improved, as did my physique, albeit slowly until the past year when things picked up a bit. I lost 45 lbs since last year, which made his size much more comfortable when on top of me. And our most recent encounters were much more passionate and much more pleasurable as well as more physically comfortable between us.

But what I noticed more, was a shift in our conversations from titillating sex talk or quick calls to let me know he would be stopping by later that day or the next for a conjugal visit, to actual conversations of two caring people, not to mention the frequency and length of the calls.

Each time he called, I'd always ask where he was. In the beginning he'd say, "I'm in LA. I'll be over at 8 tonight." His presumption that I'd drop everything and be available to him was a bit annoying and I set him straight early on. He had to make a date like a normal person. Even still, I was always used to his answer stating he was either coming to LA or already in LA. Then one call, he simply answered, "No, I'm home". I assumed he must be coming to LA soon, but still his answer was no. Then why did he call? "Just to talk," he said.

Soon, this grew to a twice monthly or weekly conversations about any and everything, sometimes more often than just weekly. What was a 5 minute call to discuss the details of his arrival, became an hour long conversation about our careers, wishes, likes, dislikes, issues of the day, and even some encouraging sentiments. But I always told myself, I couldn't let myself fall for him. I'd need much more from him for it to become love.

He'd always come and socialize with my roommate and any of her friends that were present, but I never mingled in his world. I never invited him into mine beyond his visits to my apartment. His mother lived near me, and often I was a stopover on the way to some family gathering, usually around the major holidays, or some major flight out of town (I live very near LAX).

We both dated others, but I know there wasn't anyone serious. I am certain of this simply by his calling patterns and behavior. Usually I let him be the man and initiate communication, but on the occasions I would call, he would always take my call immediately even when at the dinner table with his family (I'd hear them in the background). If he couldn't take the call, it was never more than five minutes, an hour tops, before he'd return my call. He never rushed me off of any conversations either.

Christmas night, I had my best friend and her 3-year-old over for a light holiday dinner. I was expecting her boyfriend, but he couldn't come and I had an extra place setting.

FWB called and asked if he could come over later that evening. I explained that I had company but he was more than welcome to come join us. I even had an extra meal for him, but it likely wouldn't be a conjugal visit given the visiting company. He didn't mind and said he'd be by around 8 p.m. He knew my girlfriend was important to me, and had to realize it was a big thing for me that he meet her, especially since I didn't have any family nearby as he did. She is my surrogate family. In a way, I was excited, it was the first time my best friend was meeting him, and it was a holiday. It seemed momentous. She knew much from our girlfriend-to-girlfriend conversations about him, and as all good girlfriends do, she was ready to inspect him to see if he was good enough for her best friend.

She tried a few tests on him. One was surprising us with a camera and taking our picture together. Her rationale, if he behaved as if it was a purely platonic relationship or that he had something to hide, he'd put some distance between us. Ironically, I was the one who behaved that way, maintaining my distance. It was he who immediately pulled me closer, and posed with me cheek-to-cheek for the photo.

She was impressed. She had a few other observations and comments to share when I walked her to her car with the baby and more in further conversations over the coming weeks, but in a nutshell, she approved, and even went so far as to say she felt he behaved as if he was in love with me, and that she felt he was the one for me. After she left, we had the most amazing sex we've had in the two years we'd known each other, but not before he grilled me about her opinion of him as the man in my life. At that time, I kept it light and said simply, she liked him.

A few days after Christmas, I realized my heart was ready to love again. It had been two and a half years since Steven died, and two years with this lovely man. I wanted things to become more with him, or to free myself from him to find love elsewhere. If I continued sexually, knowing he wasn't in the same place I was in life, I feared I would fall for him and that wasn't fair to either of us. I made my case, and he said he wasn't ready for more, but he completely understood and agreed that out of respect for both of us, the sexual relationship should end, but that we both wanted the friendship to continue.

I began dating more aggressively. I found it frustrating for a variety of reasons, but mostly because we women have set up a society whereby men no longer have to win us over in a relationship to obtain the sex. We give it away far to freely, and now, why should they want a serious relationship? But that's another topic of discussion entirely.

I'm not a prude, and I've had my share of sexual experiences on a first date, not to mention one night stands initiated by me and where I set the ground rules. But for me, it was a phase after my divorce, one for which I have no regrets. It was something I needed to experience then, and it provided me with a freedom I'd not had in the 11.5 years of my  marriage. Now, I was ready for more. I could find any number of men if all I wanted was just sex or a no strings attached relationship. Where were the serious guys?

Despite the end to the sexual relationship between Mr. FWB and myself, he still called with some regularity.

Last week, he called on a Monday night. He mentioned he'd seen my ads on a few of the dating sites we shared and really liked my photos, especially one of me in my glasses. He asked how that was working for me. I answered honestly, and he could sense the frustration in my voice and prompted me to share. Like a backed up pipe where the pressure just grew too great, I found myself gushing after an explosion of frustration and shared with him that most of the men I was meeting were only interested in what they could develop between the sheets.

Many of the men in my age range were recently divorced and already had their kids, and typically weren't interested in any options for more, or they'd reached that point without kids for a reason. The ones that were a bit younger than myself seemed to be in the right mindset, but weren't looking at a woman older to produce their heirs, but someone younger. Those even younger, late 20s, were more focused on their careers, and a woman much older than themselves was more for the "cougar" experience rather than any real relationship building.

I know it must seem weird to talk about my dating life with a man I shared my bed with for two years, but we could always talk about anything. He was an incredibly easy person to talk to. He listened and often had good advice, although I think this one took him by surprise. He stopped me and said, "Can I ask you something? Do you think of me this way?"

I was taken aback. I was quiet for a few moments not sure how to answer. But then I replied, "well, yeah, I do. Grant it, you and I came into this relationship under abnormal circumstances. I was grieving and was looking for comfort, and it's evolved into more of a friendship than merely conjugal, but in that you aren't ready for something more serious, yeah, I do feel that way about you -- at least to some degree."

He replied with a thoughtful silence. I broke it by asking him where he was.... always in the back of my mind assuming he was in LA or on his way and only calling for a bootie call. He said he was home. This time he said he was coming to LA on Thursday and wanted to see me if that would be okay.

He never ceases to surprise me. I couldn't believe after that rant any man would want to see me. Even if he thought he might get some.

I told him he was welcome to come, but this was a platonic visit. There would be no sex. I was firm on that. He said he still wanted to see me and that he'd sleep on the sofa. He understood.

He came that Thursday. I cooked him dinner and we had a great time. We talked for hours about many things. I think in an effort to boost my morale, and maybe his, I asked him to share what his favorite features were about me. Even though we were no longer involved that way, I was half expecting the usual, "oh, you have beautiful eyes and a nice rack" that I get from most men, but he surprised me. "You are a genuinely nice person. You care about people. You are kind. It's very easy to talk to you. Even easier to listen to you." I was stunned to hear it from him. I think I even told him that I half expected his answer to be the typical response. He replied with a broad lecherous grin and said, "Oh, don't get me wrong, I love those about you too."

By now, I'd completely melted. This evening felt vastly different from any other I've had with him. It didn't help that when he first arrived, he had grown a sexy goatee and looked absolutely devastatingly handsome.

Much of this conversation moved back and forth between the living room, my bedroom for some privacy from my roommate, and the kitchen while I was still preparing the meal. At this moment, I was in the kitchen, with the window open for ventilation. I could see and hear teen-aged neighbor and her boyfriend were just outside my window in the corridor hanging out, but not really paying any attention to me.

I was at the kitchen sink doing something when he spun me around, pushed me against the refrigerator, and pressed himself against me in one smooth motion as he held my hands above my head and began kissing me with intensity. If you thought I'd melted from his words before, I was now a puddle on my kitchen floor. Shaken, I tried to refocus on my cooking efforts once he pulled away. Not an easy task, and I think he knew it. Damn him.

After dinner, I didn't make him sleep on the sofa, but the ground rules were laid for no sex. We went back to my room and mostly lay on my bed cuddling, kissing and talking. He was behind me and spooning me when asked me again, "What does your girlfriend think of me?" I replied, "You REALLY want to know?" He answered yes. I told him "she thinks you are the one for me." He replied somewhat taken aback, "Really?" I looked back at him over my shoulder and replied, "Yes, her words, not mine." I didn't have the heart to tell him she also thought he was in love with me too. Something told me he wouldn't have been able to digest that one.

That night, he let his desires be known that he wanted me, but I stuck to my guns of no sex, and he respected me and wasn't pushy. We slept, with periodic waking moments of more cuddling and kissing. At one point, I could see his face, particularly his eyes lit up despite the darkness as he moved in for the kiss. I can't quite describe the expression, but it seemed one of intense emotion. It could have simply been an expression of desire, but I've seen him hunger for me before. This seemed different.

Whatever it was, I realized in that moment that I had officially fallen in love with him. And for the rest of the night, I agonized over whether I should tell him or just keep it to myself. The next morning, I decided to tell him while laying against his bare chest.

I think I must have stunned him, and I wasn't surprised when my words were met with silence. I filled it quickly by explaining that it was a complete surprise to me, and that I hadn't planned on it, and tried to prevent it by breaking it off with him just after Christmas. He continued to listen, and responded where appropriate to every other aspect of the conversation save those impacting words, but in an effort to keep things from becoming too awkward, I steered him to the bathroom for his shower.

After, I cooked him breakfast which we ate while watching TV, then he got ready to leave.

As he grabbed his bags, I leaned in to kiss him good bye, and was met with only a peck. It wasn't quite cold, but it was definitely distant. Offended, I told him I wanted a better kiss than that, but the second attempt was still pretty passionless.

I walked him out, he loaded his bags into the trunk, and briefly walked over to me one last time, this time voluntarily and gave me a kiss, but still just a peck. As he drove away, I was pretty sure I would never hear from him again. I went inside and cried.