Missed Connection

It was a blatant and sad attempt at connection. The text message: Buckley dvd is awesome. Thanks again for it. Truth was I had just put it on. He didn’t have to know that but I could answer basic questions if he happened to call back. He did not of course. Shouldn’t I have gotten it the other night when he went on and on about he always saw himself as free spirit? When he said he never imagined getting married and having kids? When he told me that he really likes hanging out with me, but doesn’t want to label it?

But then he lay my head upon his lap caressed my hair, back and ass. One moment he told me I was like a renaissance painting and the next I was the cute horny neighbor.

I don’t know how to do the friends with benefits thing when I don’t know if I would have quite called him a friend prior to 2 weeks ago. We were acquaintances. Neighbors. We had hung out a few times watching movies, talking about music, and getting high or sharing a bottle of wine. I wasn’t expecting the surprise of last week when we were together nearly every other night. I wasn’t expecting that I would come by last Friday night and he’d being laying in bed watching Charlie Rose. After hearing he was also a Terry Gross fan I got strangely turned on. We were finding out things about each other like he is allergic to perfume and I, well I can make a kick ass turkey panini at 1:30 in the a.m. And I find out what I had expected, that he likes being a lone bachelor while I need more.

I need some sort commitment. Some sort of check-in system so I know he is thinking of me. I need dinners and nights out doing cultural things or going to the movies. Most important, I need to know that it’s okay to stop things before I get more emotionally involved because while I do want to remain a free spirit, I want to share my life with someone. I want to find the person with whom I am meant to marry and have children with.

I just wanted one more night with him. One more night of watching concert DVD’s or old David Bowie videos while holding hands or giving each other foot massages. One more night of him playfully slapping and telling me what a cute ass I have. Laying close together arms and legs entwined breathing peacefully while listening to his heart beat. After he kissed me at the door and I was alone in my own bed I would tell myself that was the last time we’d be together. I’d believe it for a second and then probably make up more lies to tell myself.

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