Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Period. The End.

Driving home tonight, I knew it would be the last time I'd be driving home from Les' place. I went there for two reasons: One, because my pants were on fire. Two, as a test. A test he failed. A test I failed. And as this isn't a grade I want to retake, I'll take the fail gladly and move on.

When we first started getting to know each other and date, we were going like gang-busters. He couldn't get enough of me. He would call me and email me. He would make plans in advance to see me. He'd tell me he'd call, and he'd actually call.

Then we had sex.

I know I moved too soon. Believe me, I know it. But after eleven years of saying "yes" (and I know, Mr. Kim would beg to differ), I just honestly don't know how to say "no" any more. Once I'm naked, I just don't see the point of saying "no." The only words that want to fall from my lips are, "What are you waiting for? Let's get to it!"

So yes, sex on the fourth date wasn't the brightest thing I ever did in my whole life. But, he still seemed so into me. He emailed me before I got home to tell me how great it was, how great I was, how much he enjoyed himself, how much fun I was, blah, blah, blah - and I beamed with joy.

The next time garnered a similar result. But soon afterward the phone calls stopped. And the emails weren't as regular. Two days would pass, and I wouldn't hear back from him at all.

Then out of the blue he told me he had an extra wireless set-up - he'd hook me up and connect it to my Wii. He even picked up and paid for the extra cable needed. The hookup didn't work - and he came back a few days later to try it again after doing some research. It still didn't work. He took down some information, told me he'd do some more research and finish up the job.

And then I didn't hear from him for days. I got anxious. I couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Couldn't even drink. And you know it's bad when homey isn't even interested in a glass of wine.

Then against the text in every relationship book I've ever read, and against the advice of my married male co-worker, I emailed him. I kept it brief and to the point. I received almost an immediate response. He was so sorry that he wasn't contacting me as regularly. He was into me. And to prove it, he invited me over for a movie and wine.

Well, I don't know if that proved it to me. It wasn't a date - not a real one. But I went anyway, because I wanted to see him. To touch him. To talk to him. To kiss him.

We only watched 15 minutes of the movie before our clothes were on the floor.

And as much fun as it was for me that night physically, - he is very attentive - I went home feeling empty. I knew in my heart that this had morphed from a potential romance to an FWB. And I take full responsibility - I was way too easy.

This weekend marked one year since my mom's passing. When I got home on Sunday night, I spent time in ritual, remembering her life and her importance to me. Afterward, I went to bed and it dawned on me that she would want better for me.

I wasn't going to see Les again. I couldn't. But then there was an email waiting for me Monday morning - he sent it late Sunday night. He asked me if everything went well when I was with my dad. He asked if I was okay. And he said he would call later in the week to make plans.

I decided not to answer. To end it there. It was a fairly nice email, sure. But it just wasn't enough, and I wanted more.

My non-response did not go unnoticed. He emailed me two more times. Was I okay? Had he upset me? Could he do anything to make it up to me?

I remembered how I felt when I was on the other end of that, and decided to write back. I didn't want to lie, but then again I didn't want to be completely honest, either. So I said the truth - but not the whole truth: that my homecoming was rough and I was dealing with it.

I didn't go into detail. I didn't explain. I left it at that.

He immediately emailed me back - "I'm here for you if you want to talk." Um. Okay - that's nice, but a guy who was really into me would have simply picked up the phone and said, "Peej, are you okay? Can I do something for you?" He didn't - email is the easy way out and I recognized that immediately.

My married male co-worker said, "Pamela, I think he really likes you. He may not know what to do with that, though, so he's keeping a distance." And I know my married male co-worker means well - but I am done hanging on to false hope. I had really been into Les. I knew he was someone I could fall in love with. And yet, with one email - just that one - I was no longer into him.

But I did wonder this: as we had so much sexual chemistry, could I, now that I had fallen out of like, actually be in a purely sexual relationship with him? Do I have in me?

I pondered on this a lot the last few days. When I thought about the sexual aspect of it - of how it was when we were together - I would think, "Yes, I can do this." I can honestly say I have not had this type of explosive reaction to anyone - not even Mr. Kim. Of course, let's face it, I'm also still a novice. Mr. Kim was my first - and there were only two others after him. Still... with Mr. Kim as my baseline, this thing I had with Les was overwhelmingly delightful and sexually delicious. Could I make that part of it last?

Yet another part of me, the part of me that lost respect for him, thought no. Not because my body wouldn't react; I was pretty sure it would. It was because I felt he wasn't worthy - why give him something when he hasn't worked for it at all?

I thought I had my answer, until he emailed me today. We ended up having some sexually charged exchanges, and I went ahead and engaged because I decided I'd test this out. Could it work? Maybe. Would it work? I had to find out.

We met tonight, and it didn't take us long to hit the sheets. And it was as wonderful as ever. However after it was over, I pulled myself out of it and took a long hard look at him. And at me. And at...this. Whatever it is. It was then that I decided no, this wasn't going to work.

I made sure I gathered up all my things, because I didn't want to have any reason to have to return. We said good night. He kissed me. And then I left.

As I drove home, I thought of a lot of things. I remembered The Sailor, and our time together. That was the closest thing to an FWB I ever had. And it worked, because he treated me like a prize. He took me to dinner - every time we went out. We talked. Watched movies. All that, plus the other - or as close to the other we could get to, seeing as he couldn't physically consummate our affair.

I thought of my parents, and how I know they would want something better for me. I thought of a couple of guys I currently know that I would like to get to know better. I want to be absolutely free to do so. And I thought of myself - and realized that maybe an FWB could still work for me, but not with Les.

When I pulled into my driveway, I knew I wouldn't be returning to Les' place ever again. I walked through the door, took off all my clothes and jumped into the shower. I scrubbed myself clean. I washed my clothes. I burned some sage.

It is over. It is finished. C'est la vie. Que Sera, Sera. Peace out.

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