(The fact is that I don't think I have ever been what he saw in a girlfriend. I am used, so to speak. I have kids, I have had men, I don't have religion. I am basically a heathen and in his dreamy world, he wants the girl who wears white when she walks down the aisle for all the right reasons and let's face it people, I am not that girl.)
But, he really can't say anything since he
Many months ago, as you all could tell, I was hoping for the former of the three possibilities. I was crossing my fingers at night and waiting for him to tell me that the two of them had split up. After a few months, that hope faded and I was left trying to decide whether I wanted to continue having (literally) meaningless sex with him or let him go completely. I tried the letting go, but couldn't seem to and ended up sleeping with him again. I had settled very nicely into a rut of routine. How easy we form habits and how difficult they are to break.
After awhile, that nightly routine of crossing my fingers was to rid myself of all feelings towards him. I was silently begging the love gods to release me from whatever hold he seemingly had on me. I needed that click that would make me wake up from the lust-induced trance (for surely that is what it was) I was in and allow me to go back to normal. I needed it because he was making me so unhappy. Well, maybe it isn't fair to say that it was him but rather that the situation I was allowing myself to be in.
He seemed so right for me and not because of age or rank or religion or whatever, but because we were such good friends, because we could talk and because I felt so comfortable being me around him. Had I nit picked everything to hell and back, I probably could have found some things in there that would have caused issues, but I didn’t need to because he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with me. He told me so, more than once. He made it incredulously clear that our situation was sex and friends and that was it. It don’t get much more blunt than that.
But then, Friday night, I see a totally different side of this same man. The man who laid in my bed less than two months ago and told me, when asked, that all we had was sex and friendship, that we would never be anything else. So, imagine my surprise Friday night when I check my cell phone after an hour of being out of earshot to see five missed calls, a page, and a text message blaringly announcing his jealousy in these nine words “Is he any good? I hope he’s worth it.” Quick, Kate, sit down. I closed my phone and then opened it again, sure that my eyes had deceived me, certain that when reopened the message would be gone. I open my phone to see those same nine words. In a haze of shock and confusion, I call him.
One ring… Two rings… Three rings… I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he does and where I was expecting him to laugh and assure me that his message had merely been in jest, he instead is bitter. “Well that was fast or did you tell him you would be right back?” Who is this guy? This can’t be the same guy.
continued...
Labels: History Lesson, Mr. I, My pathetic excuse for a love life
