Anyone for Pink Panties?

Why do men always end up taking advantage of being the sick person?  They can be so terribly whining.  Of course, they complain if women even slow down a bit when they are sick.  I am not married, thank gawd; but I know a sick boy.   He’s forty-five though.  Needless to say, he got hurt doing some crazy stunt no old man should even try. 

After the accident, I tried to be a good friend.  I brought him dinner a couple times.  I visited him when he was trapped in his house. I cleaned up a bit here and there when he could barely get up.   I held out for his wounds to heal before even suggesting anything sexual.  Actually I thought this would be a great time to show D how much we really were friends.  Alas not, that is not the redneck way.  A pext and a pain-staking catheter story that must be karma coming back to the asshole, starts the whole mess again.  I feel bad for him.  I guess I love him, or I thought I did. 

I guess the issue is this…the orgasm is gone, so I am not so in love anymore. He is lazy and handicap just enough that he uses it as a crutch to get out of everything.  I have tried to be understanding, but now he is out of his house.  He can move around a bit.  Yet he did not learn anything.  Well, for the sake of giving him one more shot before I forget him for as long as I can forget him this time, I decided to buy a cute little frilly thong, Valentine pink, with a tiny black bow.  And since I don’t want to pexts, I sent a photo of the panties to him, asking if they did anything for him.  He said no.  Not NO! or no!.  Just no.  I responded with, “good, they wouldn’t look good on you anyway.”

I think I get the hint now.  I sure hope I do.  So, for the moment,  who wants to see my little frilly panties?  

Friendship, Love, or Multiple Orgasms???

My relationships are like a bad aftertaste that can span over years.  Either I invest too many emotions in them or the other person does.  D is done…officially. Five years of a love-hate relationship bookend by sex.  String free sex does not exist, at least not with him.  He wants to sow his oats all over town.  I am confident it is over…for now.  He may be someone who revisits every five years.

Simultaneously, Boz, from three summers ago, calls at least once every three months.  (I think I can use his real nickname here; because sadly, he has a nickname.)  Now I’ve mentioned him briefly before, but I didn’t admit to why I even consider him an option.  He lives with his parents and is literally a farmhand at thirty-five.  Still he is hung like a horse.  Something that might require work for many men, he does not have to try at all, which is good because he would never be able to find the spot on his own.  His mother spoiled him, but his father is probably hung, too.  She is just delusional from multiple orgasms throughout her many years of marriage.  I have always toyed with the idea of Boz, but once he is allowed in; he won’t leave. EVER. The list goes on and on with him.

Of course with my need for a change, I began to revaluate my relationship goals.   Based on my lessons in life over the last five years, I have learned the terrible truth about being friends with men.  Perhaps after a few more mistakes, I will realize that guys are only friends until they get into your pants. No matter how good of friends I thought I was with a man; they have proven to only be friends with alterative motives.

Second I learned, having a large penis is not everything….at least not for a long period of time.  Being well endowed is like being blind…okay not really, but blind people are supposed to have better hearing.  Having an enormous cock takes away from their brains.  Boz reminded me of this when he sexted me about licking my kilt.

In addition, I learned that honesty is not essential in those early dates for men.  Some guys will tell you anything.   When Jared told me on our first date that he wasn’t seriously dating anyone; I should have questioned further.  It was a little odd when our third date ended in me forcing him to admit the rumors of his engagement were true.

Furthermore, I broke a rule and actually dated a parent of a former student.  I was head over heels in love and dumped after I left for a school trip to Washington DC.  He married within the year.  Another dating fluke included my perfect gentleman.  Keegan called when he said, dropped flowers before our first date, opened car doors, paid for dinner, and was unemployed.  Once he got a job, he breaks up with me because I did not seem interested since he did all the calling.  In truth, I never had a chance to call; he always had the right timing.  It was all good because as a gentleman, he was slow to go around the bases.  All those manners apparently slow down the sex because after several dates, he stayed on first.  Perhaps he was hoping for another batter to hit him in.

Which brings me to the purpose of this blog; relationships are based on what?  Friendship?  True Love?  Multiple orgasms?  I think the lowdown dirty truth is that I am going to have to start completely over.  Pass on D; pass on the gigantic dick; pass on hidden girlfriends and fiancées.  Start over when someone I don’t know at all.  Start with first names and the whole shebang. And you, my blog, the people who do not actually know me, the people who may judge but do not speak, I promise to keep you in the loop.  I promise to try to move out of my comfort zone to find some new sex.  Now if only we could get guys with the big cock to wear a pin or something.

Tosh.Maybe if I’m Awake

Daniel Tosh may be the biggest tool on television, but that does not stop him from being as sexy as your second cousin during a long dry spell.  If he was not funny, he would never get laid.  Still, I caught myself laughing at one of his inappropriate jokes about women and realized he was sadly correct.  Tosh said, and this is hardly a quote, that women associate the feeling of love with orgasms, and that is why he never lets a woman get to orgasm.   Not a hard feat for many guys, but Tosh made me think about my own relationships.

Guys are definitely better in their old age.  Forty-something is better than twenty-something, and before that just does not count.  Forty-something are not in such a rush because they are old, face it.  They figure that they can do it once well and twice is pushing it.  Do it right the first time.  On top of busy lives, once a week would be excellent.

I love D more and more each time I hang out with him.  A year ago we were hanging out nightly, just chatting and watching TV.  I said no over and over again to his advances and flirtious behavior.  Months and months of chatting, finally I put out.  Now we never hang out without the purpose of having sex.  He cannot even visit without finishing the deal.  This would be perfectly fine, of course, if he still visited five times a week.  But now he “works” instead.  I see him every two or three weeks.  Clearly he has another girl or maybe he is just that old or maybe he really is masturbating in a hotel room on a job site in some random city in Ohio or Illinois like he says.  Regardless his phone does not work for some reason.  He is completely absence for a good two weeks after penetration.    I am smarter than this, still….

“They” say that the average husband would prefer sex five or six times a week.  But, D is not that great of a catch on the surface, so I can’t imagine him having girls all over the tri-state area.  In a attempt to get over my feelings for him, I have tried to convince myself of these flaws.  His balding head and dick shed…his poor grammar and his redneck ways….really, he is not much on the outside.  So, it must be the “inside” or is it just the orgasm?  Each time, I am so angry with him, but every time he comes around again I am all for it.  Is this love?  Or is this an orgasm that I have confused as love?

Reverse Cling

Well, hell!  I guess I lost the battle.  I played the game so well.  For years I pushed D away, trying to get him to be more independent.  When we dated in 2005, he was so clingy.  He called all the time, even to just leave a message.  Every night would have to involve us together.  It killed me.  Now our roles have completely reversed.  I am not sure where I went wrong.  I played hard to get.  I refused until the near end to sleep with him while he was with his next girlfriend.  I held off his advances week after week after week.  Only to find myself here!  What luck!

I am sure that playing the game was half my fault.  Or it was that one night he fought to end his relationship, only to end up at my house to escape.  It could have been me finally getting in the shower after he nearly ran my water cold until I agreed to join him.  It could have been that next week, ironically last Halloween, where I assumed his relationship was still over, and he was angry and missing most of the evening.

Guys always want this string-free sex.  That’s totally fine, but the only way to get me into bed is to shower me with attention and flirting through the evening.  I am not completely easy.  However, when D is done flirting and gets his way with me; he gets his 80’s jeans too tight.  He stops flirting, and something that was acceptable to do when he was in flirt mode is not acceptable in his post-coital .

Truthfully I love proper string-free sex.  In California, I had a couple good runs with it, mainly because I really have no interest in getting married or having children.  In the Midwest, it’s different.  Oddly enough, the men lie more.  I would say that half of the guys I have dated are trying to sample their choices before dumping their current relationship.  And honestly, I would rather be the girl they sampling than the poor girlfriend.  Still, it’s crappy a guy in the Midwest acts first, and if a girl does not actually asks him point-blank if he’s in a relationship.  Guys feel like that gives them a way out of their lie later.

Another problem with string-free sex in the Midwest is the inconsistency.   D and I have created a pattern, or rather he has.  I am not sure how it happened, but once I recognized the pattern, I knew I was losing the battle.  It goes like this:  I see D somewhere, at a store or a friend’s; and then three days later, he is trying to reach me to get some right then.  Sadly, he hides with work and whatever for nearly three weeks before the pattern begins again.  I think string-free sex should be at least once a week (although I prefer more).

The final issue with Midwest string-free sex is the secrets.  In California it is perfectly acceptable to have a fuck buddy.  They can be claimed, and although the relationship could end for any number of reasons, it is monogamous for the most part.   I always knew that my regular fuck buddy was only calling me once a week or so. D is so secretive.  Who knows what he is doing for three weeks?

Still, I wish life was again like a movie.  That Justin Timberlake movie where he has string-free sex, and in their deal, they promise to not sleep with anyone else without making it known to the other.  In today’s day and age, should people really be having sex with multiple people at once?

I guess what I am saying is that I have to get D to commit to at least these three conditions.  As I reflect once again on the morning after, I wonder what the day will bring.  There is a new Halloween party tonight, a year later.  After his visit last night, after seeing him at my parent’s three days ago, I told him he better not be mean at the party.  And sadly his response was, “Then don’t be so clingy.”

Oh, the world we live in…

The Best Novels

The best novels always involve conflict.  Someone needs to get sick or die.  Someone needs to be cheated on or run over by a truck.  It makes it a better story if the characters in books have terrible childhoods and are faced with abuse and drug use at every turn that makes a story a story.  My plan was to find my “novel” before forty.  I felt that my parents had done me an injustice by allowing me to grow up without any more conflict than five stitches above my eye, by the neighbor and a golf club when I was ten.  Trust me, it’s not much of a story.  I never really felt I had a troubled teen story to tell.  My teenage stories are more stories of stupidity, but then after this week, I realized I might be wrong.

At lunch we, teachers, can get pretty wild.  We try desperately to find other things to discuss besides Carl’s obnoxious nose-picking or Sarah’s tenth absence in three weeks or how lame homework was turned in first hour.  Unfortunately, it is with these “duty free” lunch discussions that prove why we are middle school teachers.  We joke that our sense of humor is much like the kids.  Often we find us solving the world’s problems as well as our sarcastic views of each other’s lives.  This week’s discussion turned to when each of us lost our virginity.

I mentioned that I lost mine just before I turned seventeen, and another teacher lost hers at seventeen.  However, I was confused in my middle school mind set and brought up good old Bill Clinton.  What is sex?  Does oral sex count when it comes to discussion of virginity?  My pals were a little shocked.  One actually exclaimed, “You gave head before you were in high school?”

This led me to think about just why I had done it in the first place.  “They” say that the closer you are to your father, the less likely you are to have sex in your early teens.  My father and I were not close, but we talked at the table and argued about grades.  Maybe that is why I didn’t feel the need to go all the way.  Maybe the boy, Toby, was too shy to go there, but maybe he just wanted head.  I thought and thought, and realized perhaps I had my dear younger cousin to blame.

When I was in the seventh grade, I got an opportunity to “babysit” my cousin who was three years younger than me.  Basically I was there only so she was not alone.  A bit wilder than I, she also helped me sneak one of my first beers.  Anyhow, her parents were going to a fancy ball.  We were left alone with enough movies on Beta to last the evening and the whole house to ourselves.

Now I imagine it is something every kid does, but the first thing we did was scrounge through the house for hidden secrets.  Being my cousin’s parents, she led the search into her father’s den.  She had discovered some videos that she wanted to watch.  I couldn’t tell you what the video contained, but it definitely opened my eyes to raunchy sex.  Perhaps I actually believed this was what sex was like.  Come to think of it, sex isn’t too far away from pornography.  However in pornography, you are throwing out all your moves in one go.  Real people hold back to make the week interesting.  Who can have sex for ninety minutes every day anyways?

Summer came, and the video was a thing of the past.  It wasn’t really even a thought in my head, but I guess brains are funny like that.  They store bits and pieces of information, only to recall them in time for proper use.  This summer after my seventh grade year was very different than previous summers.  We had just moved into a new town, and finally after a year of school, knew the kids in the neighborhood.  As a sixth grader and before that, I did everything with my little brother.  He and I were inseparable.  The summer before eighth grade, I turned boy crazy.  Honesty, I was always a little boy crazy.  This is only one story.  My brother and I drifted apart.

Toby was tall and blonde and thin.  He lived down around the block, one of the first houses in our addition.  Next door, my brother’s BFF lived with a backyard pool and a pool house.    I was torn.  Do I impress this cute boy?  Do I play in the creek with my brother?  Most of the time, my brother won the contest, but on occasion Toby would give me a chance.  When eighth grade began, we saw each other more with school.  Not that we talked in school, but most of us neighborhood kids would still go out for a few hours each night.

Another lucky break was my continuing babysitting career because it allowed me to stay up late talking on the phone with him each weekend. He would always lead me into talking dirty, but I had no idea what that even meant.  I was just going at it blinding, hoping to not make an ass out of myself.  I let him lead.  I don’t think he had a clue either.  At some point or other, we began to discuss kissing, giving head, and sex.  I did not know what head was exactly, but I wanted to seem educated.  Come to think of it, we never did kiss.  It wasn’t about that.  I think he knew what he wanted, and I was clueless.  He discovered that I had never experienced head.  I was curious, and he convinced me it wasn’t actually sex.  I was planning on saving myself for high school or true love or something like that.

Once spring sprang, the neighborhood came alive.  My brother and I were far from bosoms buddies by this time. I juggled my time between my friend Susan, who was away during the day, and Toby.   It took many afternoons of luring me up to his shed in his backyard to persuade me.  A couple times my brother and his friend would bust in on us.  A couple times I gave him a hand job.  Oddly enough, we never kissed.  We hugged a lot and rub against each other standing.  The shed was rather small.

After holding out through the whole eighth grade year, I guess he was getting impatient. I realized I would only be able to avoid his sly pushes for so long.  It was like he would find a way to hug me down to the floor and then pop up like a jack in the box (probably in both areas).  Or if we did get to lay together in the pool house, he would slide up on the floor ever so often till my head was at his waist.  I figured I was going to be asking for it, if I kept holding out.

Then one night, I was babysitting an actual child, up late on the phone.  Toby asked me to finally commit to trying to do it.  He told me it was perfectly fine, and he would make sure no one would break into the shed. He even promised I wouldn’t have to swallow, which ended up being a lie too.  Still, I knew sex was pretty raunchy.  My cousin’s video was the only sex education I received outside of school.   To prove my commitment, he asked me to practice and hung up the phone.

How the hell am I supposed to know how to practice?  I am a fourteen year old girl.  I didn’t have a banana, and I had hoped it wouldn’t have the texture with or without the peel.  After some unfathomable reasoning, I decided that it didn’t need to be all that long.  My mouth could only hold so much.  I imagine choking and gagging, and I figured I should just practice with something short.   Through process of elimination and based on the item in my employer’s kitchen, I decided on an egg.

Practice must have been what I was lacking because good old Toby didn’t have to wait more than a couple weeks, and he got me to fulfill his dreams, probably his first blow job in his tiny yellow shed.  We continued the dance for a month or so.  It was difficult when school started and the Ohio weather blew in.  It made the shed too cold, and soon enough the lack of relationship at school ended it for us.

In college, I actually saw Toby.  I ran into him at local dive bar on campus.  He wasn’t going to school but just there.  He looked the same, tall and blonde.  He begged and pleaded with me to go out to see his new car, but I was much smarter by college.  I laughed and walked away.  I guess some people are not real complicated.  I learned that mistake, but I would have many more to learn before I find myself here.  And I am not all that wise now.

My common sense was lacking.  I always have to learn everything the hard way.  The stories that I have about boys can be unbelievable.  I always wonder why someone would want to hear my dumbass stories or maybe everyone has stories like these.  Let me know.  Oh the assholes, I have encountered!  I could write them into a novel.

He Lies, I Swoon.

I love him.
I ache for him.
He lies,
I swoon.

D says that in every relationship there is someone who loves the other more than the other.  I think this is just a sad thought, but maybe more so because it is clearly me who is doing the over loving.  I wonder if this is how he felt before when I was rejecting him.  I still don’t get how to get these feelings back inside him.  I am not sure what I did to make him not feel that love anymore; maybe he never felt that way after all..  I wish it were something easy, like he saw me itch my butt or pick my nose.  However, I am afraid I said no one too many times.

My other selfish thought is perhaps D or someone put a love spell on me, and now I can’t see straight.  My vision is cloudy.  I can’t seem to put a halt on my feelings.  I make deals with myself, and in the end, I find a way to make them work.  I am constantly negotiating with myself, so that I can justify sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend.  But, why would D put a love spell on me then avoid me?

Karma is so going to get me.  Or is this lack of love a karma for something else?

I have not technically cheated on anyone.  I have been the other girl.  I have wrecked a family!  Okay, so maybe the fact that he had a ‘friends with benefits’  (me) through his courtship, engagement, and birth of their child had a factor in the divorce.  Clearly, I wasn’t the only problem; still, I didn’t help the situation.

I have not really caught anyone cheating on me; although I had some suspicions when I lived with a guy in the twenties.  KB and I struggle with his selfish behavior.  He would stay out late and not call.  This was a time before cell phones but still never a good sign.

I have also held back because of girlfriends.  My BFF in college was a dream man at one point.  He had a girlfriend.  I thought eventually he would see me in a different light, and we’d fall in love the right way.  In the end, he cheated on his girlfriend with one of my female BFFs in college.  Ironically we are all still friends, and I am quite happy with how fate worked out.  They are married with three kids.

Still, I could be a better person.  Or are all people a little bad?  Maybe I just like bad boys.  Maybe every guy I ever dated was really just a jerk in disguise.

D is an amazing jerk sometimes.  When we dated five years ago, all I wanted to do was change him….fix him.  Nothing about him has changed, but now, I don’t want to change him.  Yet, he keeps lying about incredibly unimportant things.  Well, I think the lie about completely breaking up with his girlfriend to get me into the shower was a little important.  But, why lie about getting a part-time job?  Is he just ashamed of having to get a second job?

We can’t even be in the same room together without supervision.  No one even seems to care to supervise us either.  At first we are successful, chatting and hanging out just as he had for years before the shower lie.  We just take it too far.  We cross a line, and neither of us ever notices it until it’s too late.  It starts with a touch or a smile….anything really.  If I knew, I could try to prevent it.  In my mind, I try to stop it.  I make deals.  If he doesn’t do this, I will say no.  WTF?  I’m so delusional I have even been known to make request, just so I can proceed into this reckless behavior.

Are we meant to be?  Am I a victim of a wicked cupid?  Can anything good actually come from this?

I think of him.
I want him.
I see him.
I want him.
I smell him.
I want him.

Damn, I can’t quit it.

Taking Sex off the Table

No String Attached is a new movie out about two friends that have sex without the ties of a relationship.  As much as anyone, I wish this could actually be true.  There is always someone who wants more from the relationship…more sex or more emotions.  Normally it is me.

When it happens to me, I tell myself, “I told you so.”  I have actually tried to steer clear of these types of relationship as I have grown wiser.  Not because I don’t like no string attached sex, but because often the strings just get more tangled in these situations.  It’s an oxymoron.

For once, unfortunately, I have found myself on the opposite side of one of these relationships.  I realize I would rather be the “victim” rather than be responsible for such pain.  This is probably just because I am a girl.  This is probably just because I got to play the crying loser so many times.  This is probably because some guys just can’t be shaken.

D and I dated years and years ago, and ironically I broke up with him for many reasons, yet number one was for something I believed was better string-free sex.  A different story, but it ended in the asshole getting married and wanting to continuing the string-free sex.  I have not made the best decisions in life; hence why now I have grown.

After D and I’s relationship ended, he ran away with his tail between his legs, and I moved on to the aforementioned failure.  I never went into the reasons for breaking things off with D.  In fact, we succumbed to the best break-up relationship:  he hid for a few months, and we never mentioned it again…well at least for a couple years.   This excellent break-up that still kept us friends was probably because I didn’t tell him every little detail to why I ended the relationship.  I thought I was being noble or respectful.  D and I have been friends for years.  What he needed from me was to end the heartache and what-ifs he still believes in today.

One reason I dumped D was because I was more independent than he was.  He was so incredibly needy and could not be alone; something he admits to even today. He immediately found himself in a new relationship, which is still continuing four years later.  He lives with her but hates their life.  I knew when we started dating that his hope was to move in together; he just appeared like one of those guys that wanted to settle down out of laziness.  They moved in together in less than six weeks.

Now D is faced with a relationship he can’t seem to get out of; mainly because it would cost him some money to find a new place.  It goes against the code of laziness to find a new house.  He dreams too big.  He can’t live with an apartment; he wants to house with a garage for less than five hundred.  It isn’t going to happen, not even in the Midwest.   I know the real reason he doesn’t want to leave.  He knows he has it good, and he is actually hoping to save some time.  Instead of getting a place and wasting money, he would rather fall in love with someone else immediately and move in with them.  Every girl’s dream!

Our friendship has been tested in these months of indecision on his part.  Because he can’t be alone, he travels around town visiting every person he knows over the course of the day, sometimes multiple visits per house.  He avoids his home unless it is dinner or time for bed.

At my house, he watches TV and says nothing.  I try to make conversation with him, and he answers as all true men in grunts and huhs.  It is like talking to myself, which isn’t even something I do in my alone time.  Now that I have given up on making conversation with him.  Another reason I broke up with him years earlier was because he called all day long, even while I was at work, about nothing.  He would call with nothing to say and nothing in common, but sex.  This doesn’t seem to bother guys.

Still this new friendship probably could have worked.  He whines to other friends about his relationship.  I guess he finds that because of our past relationship, a whole five weeks five years ago, prevents him from getting into dirty details.  When he does speak of his relationship, it is because he wants sympathy for his sad life.  I rarely had to listen to the whining. However, there was a little bit too much alcohol one night.

The other people we were out with were extra drunk.  I suggested something along the lines that he babysit me, so I am not totally stupid and could get home.  He laughs and makes a lunge like we are going to hug…it’s more like rubbing up against each other.  Again I am drunk.  I add that he should also not take advantage of me.  This begins the end of our friendship.

Beginning a rant about his girlfriend, he starts to remember our old times of only five weeks.  He remembers them fondly, and in his stories, it lasted years not weeks.  Not in my right mind, I actually suggest if he could get out of his stupid relationship and move out like he always talks about, we could have no strings attached sex.

I make it home in a dizzy walk alone; it’s only blocks. I have no idea what I have started.

D starts to visit more and more often.  He begins to suggest really long hugs when we part.  I don’t even hug my sister good-bye.  As we sit on the couch, he attempts to rub my feet.  I have learned to sit in a totally different chair, so as to not sit next to him.  He alludes to sex and how willpower is difficult.  It clearly doesn’t matter that he has a girlfriend.  His sights are set on ME!  In his fantasy our willpower overcomes us, and we just naturally move in together.  No work involved.

Another reason why I broke up with him five years ago was that he didn’t “date”.  He hung out.  He watched TV.  He tagged along on normal events.  The relationship was probably a tiny bit more than five weeks of sexual lust.  When the lust was gone, I was over it.  It should have only been no string attached sex in the first place in my mind.  D was never someone I saw a future with, sadly.  As he spends his time driving from house to house, I feel sorry for this poor girl he lives with.

For weeks we continued to just hang out; weeks that involved him accidentally bumping into me in order to touch me and more hugs.  Fed up with the defensive tactics I had to utilize in his presence, I began to attempt to not-quite-so-subtly get him to stop making the offensive remarks and touching me.  I explained that I didn’t want to be the girl he jumped to next, that I didn’t want a relationship, that his lack of loyalty to his girlfriend was unattractive, that I was, in fact, not lusting after him, I tried EVERYTHING! I told him that he was not allowed to visit my house with the thought of a sexual relationship.  It wasn’t fair to his girlfriend.

I was brutally honest, and finally about two weeks ago, I upset him enough that he didn’t visit for like four days, a miracle to say the least.    When I did see him out, he went to hug me good-bye, and I made him hug another friend too to prove we were hugging as friends.  In the end, our only meeting was short and sweet.  I love it when you tell a guy to back off and he tries to punish you for your accusations by backing off.  He really showed me.

Five years ago I broke up with him because he was needy and dependent.  Not to mention the teacher in me dreads D’s vocabulary and lack of social skills.  He doesn’t listen to anything, and when he doesn’t understand what is being said, he turns it into something sexual; making a vulgar comment about how just sitting next to each other is an extreme feat on his part.  His jokes make no sense most of the time and his grammar is atrocious.  Not an exaggeration but a true redneck.  Don’t get me wrong he is a loyal true friend and would help with anything in an instant.  However, he is more like a good friend with a mind of a teenager at forty and not a love interest.  We are better as friends.  The teacher in me can hardly avoid necessary cringes with every ‘it don’t’ and double negatives.

Upon D’s return, he did improve for a few days, but I can still see him slipping back to his old ways.  Clearly sex with him would include so many strings it would be impossible to escape without totally destroying the friendship.  Yet, I will have to be brutal.  Yesterday he asked me if I had fantasies about him, I looked into his eyes and said with a laugh, “No.”  It was hurtful.  Still I am going to have to be even more than honest.  Sex has to be taken off the table all together.