Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here:

Otherwise, hello, and welcome.
Mail Trillian here<

Trillian McMillian
Trillian McMillian
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Women, The Internet and You: Tips for Men Who Use Online Dating Sites
Part I, Your Profile and Email

Part II, Selecting a Potential Date

Part III, Your First Date!

Part IV, After the First Date. Now What?

"50 First Dates"

Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.

Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Find Federal Officials
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State

Find State Officials
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State

Contact The Media
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State

Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)



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11/17/13 12/1/13 - 12/8/13 12/15/13 - 12/22/13 12/29/13 - 1/5/14 6/29/14 - 7/6/14 9/14/14 - 9/21/14 9/21/14 - 9/28/14 10/12/14 - 10/19/14 11/23/14 - 11/30/14 12/7/14 - 12/14/14 12/28/14 - 1/4/15 1/25/15 - 2/1/15 2/8/15 - 2/15/15 2/22/15 - 3/1/15 3/8/15 - 3/15/15 3/15/15 - 3/22/15 3/22/15 - 3/29/15 4/12/15 - 4/19/15 4/19/15 - 4/26/15 5/3/15 - 5/10/15 5/17/15 - 5/24/15 5/24/15 - 5/31/15 6/14/15 - 6/21/15 6/28/15 - 7/5/15 7/5/15 - 7/12/15 7/19/15 - 7/26/15 8/16/15 - 8/23/15 11/6/16 - 11/13/16 6/24/18 - 7/1/18

Highlights from the Archives. Some favorite Trillian moments.

Void, Of Course: Eliminating Expectations and Emotions for a Better Way of Life

200i: iPodyssey

Macs Are from Venus, Windows is from Mars Can a relationship survive across platform barriers?
Jerking Off

Get A Job

Office Church Ladies: A Fieldguide

'Cause I'm a Blonde

True? Honestly? I think not.

A Good Day AND Funyuns?

The Easter Boy

Relationship in the Dumpster

Wedding Dress 4 Sale, Never Worn

Got Friends? Are You Sure? Take This Test

What About Class? Take This Test

A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far Far Away, There Was a Really Bad Movie

May Your Alchemical Process be Complete. Rob Roy Recipe

Good Thing She's Not in a Good Mood Very Often (We Knew it Wouldn't Last)

What Do I Have to Do to Put You in this Car Today?

Of Mice and Me (Killer Cat Strikes in Local Woman's Apartment)

Trillian: The Musical (The Holiday Special)

LA Woman (I Love (Hate) LA)

It is my Cultureth
...and it would suit-eth me kindly to speak-eth in such mannered tongue


It's a Little Bit Me, It's a Little Bit You
Blogging a Legacy for Future Generations

Parents Visiting? Use Trillian's Mantra!

Ghosts of Christmas Past: Mod Hair Ken

Caught Blogging by Mom, Boss or Other

2003 Holiday Sho-Lo/Mullet Awards

Crullers, The Beer Store and Other Saintly Places

Come on Out of that Doghouse! It's a Sunshine Day!

"...I had no idea our CEO is actually Paula Abdul in disguise."

Lap Dance of the Cripple

Of Muppets and American Idols
"I said happier place, not crappier place!"

Finally Off Crutches, Trillian is Emancipated

Payless? Trillian? Shoe Confessions

Reality Wednesday: Extremely Local Pub

Reality Wednesday: Backstage Staging Zone (The Sweater Blog)

The Night Secret Agent Man Shot My Dad

To Dream the Impossible Dream: The Office Karaoke Party

Trillian Flies Economy Class (Prisoner, Cell Block H)

Trillian Visits the Village of the Damned, Takes Drugs, Becomes Delusional and Blogs Her Brains Out

Trillian's Parents are Powerless

Striptease for Spiders: A PETA Charity Event (People for the Ethical Treatment of Arachnids)

What's Up with Trillian and the Richard Branson Worship?

"Screw the French and their politics, give me their cheese!"

Mail Trillian here

Trillian's Guide to the Galaxy gives 5 stars to these places in the Universe:
So much more than fun with fonts, this is a daily dose of visual poetry set against a backdrop of historical trivia. (C'mon, how can you not love a site that notes Wolfman Jack's birthday?!)


Alliance for the Great Lakes

Hot, so cool, so cool we're hot.

Ig Nobel Awards

And you think YOU have the worst bridesmaid dress?

Coolest Jewelry in the Universe here (trust Trillian, she knows)

Red Tango

If your boss is an idiot, click here.

Evil Cat Full of Loathing.

Wildlife Works

Detroit Cobras

The Beachwood Reporter is better than not all, but most sex.

Hey! Why not check out some great art and illustration while you're here? Please? It won't hurt and it's free.


Kii Arens

Tim Biskup

Jeff Soto


Get Fuzzy Now!
If you're not getting fuzzy, you should be. All hail Darby Conley. Yes, he's part of the Syndicate. But he's cool.

Who or what is HWNMNBS: (He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken) Trillian's ex-fiancé. "Issues? What issues?"

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

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Reading blogs at work? Click to escape to a suitable site!

Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

Life(?) of Trillian

Monday, November 22, 2004  
And now for something completely different...

Let's Talk about Sex. Baby.

I know, I'm breaking a rule of the blog: I don't discuss my sex life, or that of anyone else. I'm feeling cheeky. Let's see if it gets past the censorship, erm, editorial board.

For a while, a few years ago, no one was having sex. Well. Some of the people on Elimidate and Blind Date apparently were getting their freak on after gettin' freaky in the hot tub. And regular listeners of Lovelines learned a lot of teenagers and apparently pre-teenagers were more active than their university aged counterparts. But regular people, people I knew, people who weren't too proud or shy to make allusions to the fact that their love life, or at least the sexual part of their love life, was lackluster, mediocre or nonexistent, were suffering from what I called Post-Turn-of-the Century let down. The whole millennium (and even the Willennium) was a damp squib, nothing (bad or good) happened and nothing changed. It was the same old '90s malaise. We all clamored for dates or evenings out or in, made resolutions ("this century's going to be different! I'm turning a new leaf!" "This century I am going to exercise more, lose 20 pounds, stop smoking and make peace with my parents") and anxiously waited for the new century and our new lives. Because things were going to be different in the oughts, we just new it. No one would have sex with someone for the wrong reasons, everyone would find a suitable partner. We would have a lot of really good sex in the new century. Futuristic, odysseyistic, mind blowing sex. We would all be happy, or at least physically satisfied, in the brave new world. It seemed eminent.

It wasn't.

It was the same old dull routine, once a week or so with the spouse or once every few months if us singles got really lucky.

Some of you will remember I Haven't Had Sex in this Century - an ad hoc dating service that sort of got going here and on my other site. Those willing to come forward and admit they hadn't had sex in, well, a while, could meet other like deprived individuals. The response was interesting. A lot of people wrote to say they had indeed not had sex in this century, but were hesitant to center their prospective dating life around that fact.

So suffice it to say there were a lot of regular people who weren't get much, if any, action. Most people blamed themselves: Tired, bored, busy, apathetic.

But now, suddenly it seems, everyone's having sex. Which is good for the species. Because for a while it looked like the future of humankind rested in the beds of the Biosphere crew.

Everyone's having sex. My married friends are reporting renewed enthusiasm and re-invigoration. My single friends are currently all happily coupled up and in that rosy new partner stage where they're losing weight at alarming rates because of their three times a day libido revival. Even Kilgore's getting laid at regular intervals.

I'm happy for everyone. Sex is good. It keeps tempers in check and the species from extinction.

I, on the other hand, am at yet another crossroads.

I'm ugly, of course, and that severely limits my pool of willing sexual partners.

I'm still very much in love with my ex-fiancé, which at best renders me apathetic about the whole thing, and narrows the field of willing participants even more.

I'm a "relationship" type of girl which scares off the remaining men willing to have a go at a pull with me. (You know, the guys who are willing to sleep with anyone. Once. Drunk.) Even when I've wanted a one off the guys have run scared because they "knew" I wasn't "that sort of girl" and they didn't want to hurt me. As if being rejected for a one night stand didn't hurt me? I had no idea what they meant then and I still don't. Other than it was their "nice" way of saying, "Whoa, no, I was just teasing you, you're too ugly to actually sleep with, I didn't mean it. I'll just be going now. There's a skanky girl by the jukebox with my name on her ass tonight. Bye. Good luck."

So yeah. That leaves like what, two guys on the planet willing to have sex with me?

It only takes one. And that's really all I want. Sort of. I mean. I would like to actually have sex again some day. It would be nice if it were relationship sex. But that would mean I would have to fall out of love with HWNMNBS. And I don't seem to be able to do that. Everyone used to tell me I'd meet someone new who would make me fall out of love with HWNMNBS and even forget about him. No one tells me that anymore. (Thankfully, because that platitude really annoyed the crap out of me.) So here I am wanting relationship sex (or any kind of sex) to help get over HWNMNBS but no one wants to come anywhere near me for a lot of reasons but primary among them because I am emotionally messed up by HWNMNBS.

Irony: Not just for Dickens characters anymore.

Which brings me to what I've been doing in between racing back and forth to my parents' to take care of my mother, sorting out all the issues from my assault and robbery (another week of posts I met bore you with sometime because you all need to learn how really awful the banking and credit protection system is and that we are all victims and it's just really horrible what people can do with your id even if you do all the things you're supposed to do when you're robbed like cancel your accounts), dealing with my injuries, looking for a new apartment, arguing with my landlord, talking to the tenant's rights union, looking for a new apartment (I found one and me and Furry Creature are movin' on up to the East side to a deluxe apartment in the sky once my landlord agrees to let me out of my lease and he will because I have blackmail and I'm not afraid to use it if things get ugly, "Hello? Housing inspector? I'm having problems with my fuses, I can't figure out how the box works, it's in the basement and there are these big rusty metal bars you have to lift over the fuses and when you do lift it there are all these sparks and there's always this big puddle of water in front of the box..."), and, oh, yeah, my job.

So there's this guy I met online.

Way back before HWNMNBS. Well. We didn't meet then. We emailed.

Didn't go anywhere for a lot of reasons. Mainly because HWNMNBS arrived in my apartment and life for two months.

He emailed me again a right after HWNMNBS left and took my heart and life as I knew it with him.

I wasn't in any mood or frame of mind to meet anyone new much less date. I was honest. I told him I was getting over a bad break-up.

He understood.

We wrote a lot of emails over the next few weeks.

I went out with a friend of a friend. (a nightmare which led me to swear off men forever. Again.)

Then two other guys entered the scene via online sites. I decided to resume 50 First Dates because maybe I just needed to "get back out there." (How many times do you "get back out there" before you realize it's best for everyone if you "stay in here?") But I was conflicted.

I was in an awkward spot with email guy from last Summer. I had told him I didn't want to date. He was okay with that. We continued corresponding all nice and friendly like.

And then, probably due in part to his friendship and kindness to me, I was feeling like I should "get back out there."

He had told me about some dates he'd been on, the full horrors and the disappointments. (What's with these women? And more to the point, if these nympho gold digging psycho bitches from Hell are so prevalent in the dating community and so many men don't want them, why the swut am I single? I'm a swutting dream date compared to the behaviors of many of the women I hear about via men "out there" with me and readers of this blog.) So I knew he was dating and still looking and not thinking there was any potential with me. Because there wasn't potential with me. I was off the market. I was wounded and disturbed and no good to anyone. He understood how I felt and respected my feelings.

But now, here I was, considering going out with a couple of guys.

What about email guy from last Summer? Should I tell him I'm ready to "get back out there?" and see if he's interested? He's got first dibs, by rights, and these other two newbies should queue up behind him. But it's super presumptuous to assert that I am now interested and open for business and that he'd care about my business in any way other than that which we were doing: Friendly emails now and then.

How do you go about telling someone, "oh, by the way, you know, I think I'm ready to try dating again, I've got two guys lined up but you were here first so if you're still interested let me know and I'll find an open time for you before Guy 2 and Guy 3" without hurting their feelings, sounding like a presumptuous psycho, or making a complete farce of the whole thing? (This is why I've never been good at playing the field. I care too much about this stuff. I'm much better at serious relationships than dating. And since my serious relationships have not exactly turned out favorably you can connect the dots as to how bad I am at dating. Combine that with my dismal looks and it's no wonder at all that I'm single and celibate.)

Fate intervened before I had a chance to get too stupidly perplexed about this. Email guy from last Summer had to go out of town on business.

Ah. Sort of a reprieve and a window of opportunity. ("Hey, welcome home! Guess who I met while you were gone? My new boyfriend!")

I went out with Guy 2, or Tattoo Love Boy as he is now known. That moniker should tell you all you need to know about how that, date went.


Let me paint this picture of the future for you: (insert wavy dream/future sequence lines)

Holiday dinner at my parents' house. Very conservative sort of neighborhood. Cool but old fashioned parents. Trillian's bringing home her new boyfriend. Everything is all prepped and spotless, the good heirloom china and silver are out, as is the good port and those fancy hors d'ouvres from Blinquette the Baker. Trillian appears with her new boyfriend who today is sporting his good ear spikes and tire chain necklace. He says yo instead of hello. Trillian's parents, open minded and nonjudgmental smile and treat him graciously, even when he picks up the silver and china to examine the hallmarks and talks about selling it on eBay. Even when he wolfs down nearly the entire tray of hors d'ouvres from Blinquette the Baker. And gulps the port. "So," Father o' Trillian addresses new boyfriend, "What do you do for a living?"

"As little as possible." is his response.

All the gracious, nonjudgmental, open mindedness evaporates. Because no matter what else, there is no excuse for laziness. boredom or unmotivation in my parents' eyes.

"Har har, no really, what do you do for a living?" Father o' Trillian prods, trying to be a good sport and hoping the statement was a nervous attempt at humor.

"Really. As little as possible. I own two businesses and I'm in real estate. But I have other people do the work." (Yes, he's "in" real estate. Like everyone else "in" real estate he can't define what he actually does "in" real estate.)

Ignoring the first and last comments, Father 'o Trillian persists, "What are the businesses?"

"Tattoo and body shops."

Scared looks exchanged between Trillian's mum and Father o' Trillian.

"Oh. Well. Isn't that interesting," Trillian's mum feigns interest and impression.

"Not really. But good money makers. Kids all want tats and once they get one they want another. Like Harry Potter books for the teens and college kids. The best money is in teenage trends."

"Aren't the Harry Potter books wonderful? Such delightful stories." Trillian's mum asks hopefully, trying to change the subject before Father o' Trillian says something to upset Trillian.

Too late. "You going to open a laser removal business next door when all these kids' parents find out what you've done to them?" Father 'o Trillian asks. "And what's a body shop? Cars? Or something X rated?"

"We have sex toys, but mainly it's lingerie and body jewelry, we do piercings."

Scratch of record. Enough of this nightmare vision of the future. Oh sure, he's nice. Sort of. I guess. Not really. No. Actually. Not that nice. And he is lazy. But mostly he's just annoying because he never says hello, just a long drawn out yo (didn't that go out in 1988?) and even worse, he speaks in Sam Kinison monologs and movie quotes. I'm not kidding. I like Sam as much as the next person, but there's only one Sam Kinison, and he's dead. And there's no reason to comprise entire conversations out of his monologs. Anger management issues are not funny in real life.

I love movies and sometimes I even quote them. But he's one of those people who says things like, "The train's entering the station...WHAT MOVIE?!" and then badgers you to come up with the title of the movie he's quoting. And it's always some innocuous generic phrase that's been uttered in hundreds of movies. So you just grab the first one which comes to mind because every time you say, "I don't know, what movie?" he pesters you with, "Come on, you know it, it's a classic!" until you say some movie, any movie, just to shut him up and get past this inane exercise in nothing relevant to anything. The thing about people like him is that they have no personality to call their own. If you think it's a veneer they're hiding behind, guess again. They truly are incapable of original thought so they speak in other peoples' words and make "trivia" their thing. I find it annoying and boring. And yes, yes, YES, I love lyrics and poetry and I do quote them WHEN IT'S RELEVANT. Plus poetry is one thing. Most people love a good song. A Sam Kinison monolog or Fight Club line are other things entirely.

Right. So. Tattoo Love Boy not so much of a threat to email guy from last Summer.

Except that Tattoo Love Boy is apparently hot for Trillian. I'm not saying I've got him eating out of my hand, but I could have Had Sex with That Man or at least Clintoned him. He's young and dumb and desperate enough to have sex with me.

But I don't like him. Not even enough for a one night stand. Not even enough to have Clinton with him. I know. I know. I'm in no position to be picky. Here's a guy who wants me, and there I was all "oh poor ugly me..." But. I just couldn't do it. Literally. The yo and Sam Kinison things are the main reasons, but his Illustrated Manedness from his wrists to his ankles just really grossed me out. Funny, I didn't think I was averse to body art. Take it or leave it, I always thought. Rock Star Boyfriend from Long Ago had a couple and they never bothered me...But then he was an actual rock star. They suited him. They were natural and normal and it's weird to think of him without them. Tattoo Love Boy, though, thinks he's clever by having them end where a t-shirt ends. Yeah. He's one of those types. Without his shirt on he looks like he's wearing a t-shirt made of flesh and tattoos. I don't know. It just really turned me off. Maybe if he'd had a personality to call his own I might have felt differently. That Sam Kinison thing got really old really fast. Or maybe I'm just getting too old to deal with "unique body art." I've heard all the stories, seen all the "unique" art and positioning and I'm bored with them and the people who think they are cool and special because they have a tattoo or many of them.

I found myself looking forward to email guy from last Summer's return home. Uh oh. Trillian's realizing she likes this guy. Which always means he's met someone else, had a whirlwind romance and is getting married. Good for him, bad for Trillian. Guys: If you want to have a whirlwind romance and get married, all you have to do is make me like you and I guarantee within minutes of me deciding I like you another woman will appear and sweep you off your feet. Just another service we here at Life(?) of Trillian are proud to offer.

Ahem. Right. Just a few issues.

Guy from last Summer returned home, we emailed, he was busy, so was I, he was going to meet a girl he'd met online, I was supportive and enthusiastic for him. Really I was. This was clue to me that maybe I didn't like him as much as I liked the idea of him: I wasn't disappointed. Besides, I had Guy 3 queued up and guy from last Summer with a new girl paved the freeway for me to not feel bad about going on a date.

Yes. A date. Real, honest, bona fide date.

Several dates, actually. In between all that's going on with me and in my life, I have managed to see him a few times.

Guess what? There is another man willing to have sex with me.

And I don't have to pay him.

And he actually wants to do it.

Because he finds me attractive enough to raise his interest and want sex from me.

While this should instill me with confidence, hope and general all around good feelings about myself and him, I find myself not particularly interested in him. In fact, the more he comes onto me, the more interest he expresses, the more disinterested I am.

I know. Eureka.

We knew it all along.

This is the age old obvious issue: I apparently like a challenge. I apparently like not knowing where I stand. I apparently LIKE jerks and losers. I apparently cannot appreciate a guy who wants me when I have one eating out of my hands.

Or it may be as simple as there's just not chemistry. He thinks there is. But that's a guy for you. They'll find chemistry with a leaf if it will get them in a girl's pants.

"Chemistry, Trillian, is an illusive and overrated thing. Can you even define chemistry?"

Yes. I can. For me it's a combination of good guy-edness, a special brand of humor and perception. And I offer the same in return.

He is apparently so dazzled and captivated by my beauty (cough cough) and beguiling ways (ahem) and charm (COUGH COUGH COUGH) he doesn't notice that I am not caught up in the moment. That I am taking this one step at a time, trying to learn something about him, and realizing, at the end of the a few dates, that he doesn't make me laugh, not even a titter, and that he doesn't get my humor. Yes, there is a hint or two that he is a good guy, but without the special brand of humor and perception, I mean, well, is it enough?

I know.

Huge problem.

Not a challenge.

A problem.

I need to laugh to be, um, well, turned on.

It's a girl thing. It's a Trillian thing.

And while I don't want (or expect) a date to be open mic night at Caroline's, or a running Sam Kinison monolog, I need to sense the guy is capable of laughing, capable of making me laugh, capable of laughing with (and sometimes at) me.

Okay. Okay. So what, Trillian? You've had a lot of dates that didn't turn out so well this year. Why the time devoted to this one?

Because a) he finds me attractive and b) apart from the humor and perception things, he's an okay guy.

I don't think I'm in any position to be particular. I don't trust myself.

So I'm wondering if I should just seize the opportunity that's landed in front of me, or reject him and wallow in my self absorbed discontentment with my life.

It's easier to whine and cry over love lost than to put the work and effort into a new guy. I know this. I understand this. And I am willing to put the effort and time into building a relationship.

And here's a guy who has a career, not just a job, he's not "in" real estate or a band or an artist and he is a good guy. AND he finds me attractive and possibly even interesting beyond the bedroom.

Are these humor and perception things so important that I could let this guy, a "catch" by most female standards, slip away?

Let's review the possibilities:
Continue to see humorless man, get some action in the bedroom, have a boyfriend, go along for the ride and while I'm not fulfilled on a few levels, I try to reconcile it with the fact that I am not alone and have someone to share life with who at least cares about me and my feelings. And get laid.
Pro: This is probably the status of most marriages. No relationship is perfect. If we share similar outlooks and goals and care about each other and respect each other, that's what really matters. In the long run, I want a partner I can trust, who doesn't hurt me, abides by the laws of the state and country and doesn't wear a mullet. Laughter and perception can come from friends. Because he lacks perception, he won't pick up on the fact that I am unfulfilled on a few levels and therefore I won't be hurting him. He will be: Blissfully ignorant. As long as he's getting sex he'll think everything is fine.
Con: I know more is possible, that this relationship will lack a few elements. I won't be fulfilled on a few levels which have heretofore been the most important factors in my relationships. He won't make me forget about HWNMNBS. He will make me miss him more and long for the good old days. I won't be feeling my full relationship potential and won't be the relationship person I know I can be. Very unfair to him, even if he is blissfully ignorant.

Continue to see humorless man, don't sleep with him, give him (and me) a chance to see if we can develop a relationship.
Pro: This is the normal, sane thing to do. This is what dating is about, getting to know each other. It takes time and effort.
Con: If the humor and perception aren't there in the beginning, they're not going to develop over time. Humor and perception are not like getting used to someone else's hobby of Bonsai Trees or interest in the World Curling Federation or proclivity for letting the laundry pile up for weeks at a time. Why waste his time and mine?

Tell him point blank what my concerns are, see how he reacts and take it from there.
Pro: This would be the high road, the modern, let's talk about our feelings approach.
Con: Why make him feel flawed when it's not him, it's me? And I hate psycho babble conversations. The fact is that he is a humorless guy who lacks perception, and no amount of talking about feelings is going to change that.

Don't return calls and emails and continue to wallow in self absorbed loathing and contempt for my life, longing for the good old days with HWNMNBS.
Pro: I'm not wasting his time or mine, not leading him on, and being honest with my feelings and true to myself. The career, looks, money and sex are more than enough for a lot of women, he'll find one and they'll both be happy and I should not stand in their way.
Con: No one is ever going to be HWNMNBS, and while I understand that, and don't even want someone like HWNMNBS, I don't want someone whose personality makes me think about HWNMNBS. But. This is a good guy, committed to his career, hard working, respectful and respected, intelligent, and he finds me attractive. So what if he's a little boring? Haven't I had enough emotional excitement and the turmoil it can cause for one lifetime? Did I mention he's okay with my, um, little shoe thing? What the swut more do I want?

Humor and perception.

Hey, the true love thing didn't turn out so well for you, Trill, and since it's all downhill from there, why not go for money, power, looks and sex? That's what other women do, that's all a lot of women want, you gave love your best shot, you held out for it and got it and put all your effort and emotion into it and you got dumped and burned. Idealism is all well and good, but you're not getting any younger and if you can't have the man you love, you might as well have one who is rich and good looking and wants to have sex with you. Besides, he's a good guy and stop being so swutting picky and lofty with your ideals. You don't want to be alone, and here's a guy who is ready and eager to spend time with you. What the swut more do you want at this point in your life?

Yeah, I suppose that's one way of looking at it. But that's just not my style. That's not who I am. That's not important to me. Well. I mean the sex thing is nice, but the money and looks don't compensate for the emptiness I feel after an evening of not one shared laugh between us, or the feeling that he's not getting me on unspoken levels.

Okay, fine. Forget him. Why dwell on this?

Because I am wondering if you're right, if I am being too picky and wanting and expecting too much from a man. This guy is otherwise okay. More than okay for most women. A good catch. If I were going to "settle" for someone other than HWNMNBS, this is a good guy. Maybe I shouldn't let him get away. I could do much, much worse. He doesn't have commitment issues, he's sane and very WYSIWYG. So what if there's nothing under the surface? Isn't that actually a good thing? Nothing to hide, no demons to haunt or chase, no issues, nothing. Isn't one complicated tortured soul in a relationship enough? And he finds me attractive and wants to have sex with me.

And that's another thing I'm considering. Maybe he just wants sex from me. After what I've been through, might that not actually be a good thing? Being a sex object might be exactly what I need to build some confidence in myself. He uses me for sex, I use the fact that I'm being used for sex build up my self esteem in the looks department. Everyone wins, right?

Everyone except guy from last Summer. Who out of the blue asked me if I was feeling more ready to try dating. I, um, erm, well, yeah, actually, I've seen a couple of guys, but I come home feeling empty and lonely and miss HWNMNBS even more. So no, actually, maybe I'm not ready to date but I've been trying. Why do you ask? Keep in mind, I've never even met this guy face to face.

And then just to further complicate any potential sex life I might have, there's Brit Barrister. I saw him once a few weeks ago. He was in town again on business. He rang the day after my assault. He was genuinely upset and concerned about me. He wouldn't let me be alone. He took me to dinner. We talked. We laughed. He gets me. Sort of. We're not sexual because of the distance and because I told him no last Spring and he respects me for that. We both know sex would be more than just sex. We have the makings of an emotional relationship. And I'm not ready for that with him living thousands of miles away. I'm not ready for that again. I don't think I could ever endure that again. He understands that. He likes my integrity and honesty. He loves my sarcasm and cynicism. He gets it on most of the levels. He's an amazing kisser. Oops, I mean listener. (Okay girls, I know you want to know: He's tall (6'4"!) roguishly, even devilishly handsome (you know how I am about that look) and has looks to spare for both of us, has really nice clothes and shoes but doesn't look phony or affected, and OMG yeah, he's all that and a cheese danish afterwards.) He likes the parts of me I like about me and doesn't care about the rest. And that makes me feel attractive. I don't feel like an obtuse, ugly Amazonian Cyclops with him. I am not naive, I realize I may be a port of call for him, that there are many others in cities all over the world. He could be that kind of guy. He is that kind of guy. Or has all the trappings those kind of guys have. But he wants to settle down with one woman in his home port. And there is enough between us that given the opportunity we might be able to carve out a nice little life. But we live too far apart to date and see if this could turn into a permanent tour of duty. Period. No sex. Sex with Brit Barrister would be a very, very, very, very, very, dangerous thing. And probably a very good thing. But no. No sex.

And then there's HWNMNBS. Guys, please, explain to me and every other woman in the Universe, how do you know when your ex girlfriend is interested in someone new? How do you know when to appear, always at a very crucial moment of going forward or dumping a new guy? Why do you reappear at that exact moment, lay on the charm and trail your sentences like lost, confused little boys needing and wanting us to show you the way? On the verge of begging, you come back into our lives and really confuse the crap out of us because we thought we were over you, or getting over you, or at least seeing someone new and trying to get over you, yet there you are, all apologies and sweetness and sensitive and funny and understanding, you know, all the things we loved you for in the first place but disappeared somewhere toward the end of the relationship. But we're with a new guy. You understand (long sad face). He's just a guy (hopeful raise of eyebrow). No one, really, haven't even Clintoned him, just a guy (happy grin tinged with sardonicism). Just going out with him to get over you (yes! implied). The amazing part of all of this is not how easily and quickly us girls give in to your pathetic attempts at reconciliation, but your impeccable timing. One more date with the new guy and we wouldn't give you the time of day. One less date with the new guy and we wouldn't be sure if we were giving up a better thing for reconciliation with you. And almost always, you appear, on cue. We don't hear from you for months, maybe even years. But the very day we think maybe this new guy might be more than just a person of interest, you appear. I should have changed that stupid lock, I should have made you leave your key... Guys who normally have less than an ounce of perception, insensitive guys, guys who never noticed a new hair cut let alone a new guy, will call or write or show up the day, the very day we think we might have sex with that new guy. This has happened so often to me and other women I know that it cannot be coincidence. You didn't want us, but you don't want anyone else to have us. That's how we see your reappearance. But even though many of us are strong enough to make you turn and leave, your little ill timed appearance leaves us melancholy, confused and in no mood to go out with new guy, least of all have sex with him. So even if you lose, you actually win.

And that is why we have the No Discussion of My (or anyone else's) Sex Life on this Blog.

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