Date fifteen with BFD was slightly perplexing. On reflection, I think it might have been very important. It was relatively short, especially considering the numbers of activities we wedged in.
On Saturday, I arrived at his place a little before 5. In 3.5 hours, we had unbelievably mind-blowing sex, took a bath together that was shockingly unromantic, did a sports-related activity during which I was wounded, and dined at a restaurant of his ethnic heritage.
Overall, there was some weirdness and some awkwardness. I left the date feeling uncomfortable. I strongly felt a wall between us, especially emotionally, although I could not tell if it was coming from me, from him, or from us both. I sort of decided after he dropped me off and kissed me in the car, that perhaps we’re really just dating after all this time. I mean, the sex is amazing, but I began wondering if that is the only way we connect intimately.
After five months and 15 dates, I have no idea how he feels about me. I know he is very attracted to me. I believe he likes me as a person. I know we’re friends. I know he turns to me in moments of great stress and aggravation and I know he turns to me when things are going really well for him, which they have not been for a while.
I have noticed that we are often quiet together and we rarely talk about feelings. Tonight, I asked him “B, how are you?” as we drove back from the restaurant. He said, I think I am okay, but what do you mean? I said how do you feel? Are you okay? He said he’s extremely stressed. Duh.
I called him after I’d been home about an hour and he was working. Of course. It’s late Saturday night, and he’s working.
Because he was intending to travel on Saturday, we had originally scheduled our date for Friday. Earlier in the week, he asked me to cancel my Friday afternoon so we could have lunch and spend the rest of the day together. His schedule was derailed by an urgent business matter. He moved me originally from lunch and all afternoon to lunch to 3 to 8. Due to circumstances beyond our control, we ended up canceling at 9:30 because he was too tired though he had already ordered in chinese for us.
After our plans went awry on Friday, we both worked out early on Saturday. Since he was downtown, he called to say, why don’t I come by now so we can spend the day together. Since I know him, I knew that might have been his intention, but it would not have happened. I said, no, later. We agreed on 5 after speaking on the phone a few times. He asked me to come out to his place, so I called a cab, for which he did not reimburse me, although I did not ask. (Instead, he purposefully picked up the check [handed them a credit card before the check arrived] on what was supposed to have been his birthday dinner.)
I arrived while he was still upstairs. He had texted me while in the cab that he had arranged things downstairs and the door was open. He was down the stairs before I made it 15 steps into the living room. We had incredible, mind-blowingly great sex.
After, we went upstairs for a brief bubble bath. He grabbed a magazine related to his sport, so he skimmed it and flipped through showing me things. I kept thinking, um, naked, post-coital soaking and you’re doing this . . . sgain! Still, I asked him questions and let him know I had been paying attention. He got out after just a few minutes and I stayed in longer, luxuriating in the warm and soothing water. As I finally got out and was drying off, he wandered back in to look for something to wear. Stupidly, the master closet is through the master bath — a design element we both hate.
I went back downstairs to get dressed, and he called down (part of the living room is two stories and there is a loft outside the master) to ask if I wanted to do the sporting thing again we’d done 5 or 6 weeks ago or hit a restaurant of his ethnic heritage, which was about 15 miles away. Since I was not yet hungry, we headed off to the sporting place.
Being there is a bit nerve-wracking and intense. I got very nervous and my performance was much worse than the first time. I suffered an actual wound: I have a tiny bruise and bump in the middle of my forehead from when I was hit with something. It was a freak accident, the kind of thing that should never happen, and it was completely my fault.
The guys next to us were very helpful and were often paying more attention to me than BFD was, although I think it was because I was in skinny jeans and a fitted sweater. Being there with me made him nervous, so he often stepped back when I was on.
At one point, they asked me as I stood back what he did for a living. I did not answer, so the guy probed a specific job that would have explained his skill-level. I said no and just laughed. BFD heard the exchange and asked later why I didn’t say what his actual job is. What he does makes people uncomfortable because it means he’s rich. BFD does not understand this, but I see the discomfort from even my successful lawyer friends. These guys did not need to know. I found the whole exchange charming, while BFD was a little insulted they thought he could have been a [blue collar job]. I said, it means you look like you know what you’re doing and do this all the time. They did not need to know anything else. Because of the activity, all talking is in short bursts anyway, so it’s not like we had long conversations.
There were more women there this time, but these are not our people. He asked the owner about a piece of equipment he wants to buy, and the guy laughed at him — it’s 4x more expensive than the best things and on six month backorder at the manufacturer. The guy said, look for a special order, I will need half down and I don’t want to take your money until we order it. BFD said, I will happily give you the money now. If you can’t get it down the road, just give it back. Again, they looked at him like he was crazy, but now they knew he was rich and crazy. Somehow, the expensive (but understated) watch, quality of the equipment he has, the resort shirt he was wearing, and me as his girlfriend did not adequately scream money. Actually, none of that does scream money. It screams success, but it’s very difficult to know the difference between a well-paid professional and actual wealth. Unless you’re really paying attention to how deliberately unflashy he is. Until you know he just does not care about money and wants what he wants. If you watch him move through space, you know. It’s obvious. They finally understood that he was serious, so by the time we left, they custom designed his purchase and he’s ordering it this week. They also treated him a little differently, as you do.
Back in the car, I apologized repeatedly for my poor performance. BFD assured me all it takes is practice, but it’s an expensive thing to do in the first place, so my ability to practice is solely dependent upon him. I did say, look, next time, before we go could you please check my grip and body positioning? He told me I need to relax more and visualize more. He also told me it takes him 5 or 10 minutes to relax when he is there because it is very intense. You have to get used to your surroundings and it’s a bit scary every moment you’re not actually doing it.
He said, you know, your problem is that you’re trying to be perfect and you don’t have to be perfect. I thought that was an interesting comment that no one would ever say about me. I am not a perfectionist, I don’t think. But maybe I am. I certainly am about some things, and maybe this is one of those things. I know I got frustrated. Plus, I am now bruised.
Despite the fact it was more than 15 miles away, we headed up to the restaurant on multiple highways and landed in a whole other world. I have eaten the cuisine before but never at a restaurant exclusively dedicated to it. It was fun to watch him break out the little the language he knows. I was amused that the waiter, who spoke perfect English, wrote our order down in another alphabet. Of course he did, but I could not stop watching. The cuisine was excellent, but the food was just okay. He loved being around his people and it shifted our conversation to him thinking a lot about his family.
He has never really gone into much detail about his family before. I have seen pictures, I know general things about them, but he told me how he feels about them and I realized some of the issues there. He described how much he does not like his dumb, “gold-digging” sister-in-law, though she is a good mother. He complained that she is uneducated (”first in her family with a degree”) and unambitious, whose only interest is spending his brother’s money. The brother is a professional, but not wealthy and they have made some of what BFD considers bad financial decisions. (They are.) We talked about issues of class and breeding, what can be taught and what cannot. We are both solidly in agreement. Of note, he was interested in what I thought, but not interested in my family. I know he has a general read on my background, but I feel that he is not that interested. He spoke about his mother, to whom he is very, very close and with whom he feels a special connection. She is descended from an important historic figure related to his heritage and admires how loving and giving she is, though she carries herself as who she is. He spoke about her with such admiration for her elegance and carriage, coupled with how kind she is.
He told me that his father and older sister each have quite a temper. This is all surface stuff but it indicates much deeper stuff. He went into some detail about his sister and it’s clear they are not close, while I know he and his brother are.
Overall, I felt a little awkward and uncomfortable. He was so deeply inside his own head and what he was talking about that I was just on the outside. We did not speak much in the car, and I was more perplexed than ever. When I am with an introspective person, I am not chatty. I allow the silence to linger. We listened to music, but I felt very awkward about the whole thing. I sort of decided that maybe it really just is about the sex. And if that’s the case, it’s okay for now. I mean, it means I will be dating other people (and not sleeping with them).
As he dropped me off, he kissed and hugged me and asked, oddly, what I was doing on Sunday. I said, B, I have no plans. I am just reading and relaxing, but I am free. He said, well, maybe we can get together. I told him sure, knowing it would never happen.