My lover went MIA.

This is a typical complaint I hear from ladies in the dating arena: "After I finally give in and sleep with a man, he doesn't call me." Harsh. Let's see if I can spin this in such a way that it will hasten healing.

First, the man who doesn't call you is not interested and you should be glad you found out sooner rather than later. Yes, it hurts. You feel cheap and used. Well, don't. Turn it around. See the situation as you using him. He wasn't that great anyway and there are plenty more where he came from.

If you must know, the reasons he doesn't follow up can include any of the following (and trying to determine which one it is will drive you bonkers, so don't):

• He was in it for the conquest. His mission is complete.
• He has a woman he's emotionally attached to and he doesn't get to have sex with her, so you took care of the physical part.
• He's embarrassed about his performance.
• He feels too much pressure to meet some standard you've set for allowing a man to sleep with you.
• The sex wasn't enjoyable.
• He's not ready for a relationship.
• He was drunk and horny.
• He has been rejected by numerous women over the years and now he's getting even.

None of those reasons are painless, but you get to decide the intensity of the pain and how long it will last.

Society frowns upon selfishness, but I suggest you become more selfish. If you're considering sleeping with him, consider your motivation. If you're sexually hungry, say it and do it. If you're desperately seeking a soul mate, you're putting a shit-ton of pressure on the poor fellow unless he happens to be honestly looking for the same thing and the stars have aligned.

It's that goddamn oxytocin messing with you. Fight back, Babydoll. If you concentrate on what you want now instead of many years hence, you'll enjoy the ride. When you decide to get naked and sweaty, if both minds are blown, you'll probably get the call and your relationship will blossom. If you're on the sexual see-saw at the top looking down at him, you'll need to avoid staring at your phone tomorrow and steer clear of the chardonnay and sappy movies.

Band of Mothers vs. Band of Brothers

It was a full moon on a Saturday—a perfect night to put on my drinker’s cap. The scene: a local pub showing MMA fights. In one corner (of the pub) was a band of brothers who traded their weapons for lady-killing devices. They were young and hungry. In another corner was a band of mothers who traded their mundane married lives for a night on the town wearing bull’s-eyes. A confrontation was inevitable with me stuck in the middle.

Ding!

I ask many questions; women like that. I do more pinging than ponging because other people’s lives are more interesting than mine. When a question comes my way, I deflect and redirect. I wasn’t out to sell any books last night, so I played ring announcer as I interviewed the contestants.

“These are my friends Kari, Eve, and Beth.”

“So nice to meet you all. Give me the tale of the tape.”

“Huh?”

“Single, married, divorced; kids; occupation; and what-have-you. Just the facts ma’am.”

“We all have teenage children.”

“Yes?”

“Kari here is divorced and she kind of has a boyfriend.”

“Kind of?”

“Her boyfriend is like twenty years younger, so …”

“’Nuf said.”

“Eve is separated and looking to have fun, if you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“Beth’s relationship is complicated.”

“Aren’t they all?”

“She’s married, living with her husband, but they don’t sleep together. They’re staying together for the kids and because it would be too expensive to split.”

“I may have heard that story somewhere before. So, these ladies are in the arena for what purpose?”

“To have fun.”

“Which includes?”

“I don’t know, hooking up, I guess. I’m married so I can’t relate. I’m just here as a friend.”

“Really?”

“Must husband travels for work, that’s why he isn’t here.”

“Hm.”

“We’re fine. I mean, he is away most of the time—like three weeks a month.”

“Strange.”

“Sure, I wish he were around more, but …”

“Sounds to me like you could be joining this band of mothers soon.”

“Maybe.”

Kari was flirting heavily with the brothers as her teammates giggled. Then, I spoiled the fun by pointing out the flagrant foul.

“She’s into these young boys because there’s no way she’d fall in love with one. It’s safe sex, so to speak.”

Eve was the most aggressive of the bunch, but she was also the most critical. I expected that when I noticed her designer outfit, hair extensions, and various enhancements.

“What are you looking for, Eve?”

“There are only like two attractive guys in this whole place.”

“None taken.”

“How do you know you’re not one of the two?”

“Just a hunch, sugar.”

Beth was the rookie. Her smirks and shy smiles told me she wanted some quick naughtiness without complications. A toy to kiss, touch, and leave without her number would suit her just fine.

“Beth, you have a mischievous look.”

“I’m feeling kind of frisky, I admit. You seem cool enough, so I can tell you.”

When a woman calls me “cool enough” she means I’m not a mating option, so she can tell me sexy, slutty stories without defending herself. Works for me.

“Do tell.”

“I had my first ever one-night stand last weekend.”

“You naughty girl.”

“I know! It was so bad. I felt dirty, in a good way. It was my birthday party and I was a little tipsy. God, it was awesome sex.”

“Sorry I missed it.”

The mothers and brothers flirted and teased. An hour of the game is all I could stand. I excused myself, paid my tab, and headed for the showers. I hope both teams scored.