BFD canceled on me around 9 am Friday morning for car stuff.  He called me to say, look, I can’t get away.  

It was for the best, since I did have an important work thing I was going to blow off — I calculated that I could deal with the client irritation more easily than my own aggravation at having to get there, finish a letter on my broken computer, etc.  As soon as I made that call, the client called and I was back on.  The work thing was wildly successful.  I cabbed both ways, hit the bank, sat in the lobby of my favorite hotel writing a client letter, knowing this would be the last time I would be so aggravated by transportation issues.

I called him when I was back to check-in.  We spoke for a couple of minutes and said we’d speak later.  I was exhausted.  Though I wanted to see him, I preferred to see him on Saturday.

My friday was rough:  I had a long emotional conversation with BP I will have to unwind and analyze at some point.  I don’t trust him, and he called me on that.  He’s both right and wrong.  I trust him in many important ways, but I know that he’s untrustworthy on the small stuff.  He’s dependably undependable.  We got into a fight about work, but also a fight about life.  He’s still pissed about BFD, still convinced he is a short-term distraction . . . and yet, sort of convinced we’re in love.  (Even I am not convinced of that.)fly

I called BFD around the usual time.  He answered and said, hey, can I call you right back?  About 60 seconds later, the cat walked across the keyboard and redialed his phone.  I was horrified, so I shot him a quick email as my phone rang.  It was him.  I said, hey [the cat] called you.  He said, uh, you called me, I spoke to you.  Apparently, the phone did not connect to him the second time.

He apologized for not speaking to me a minute before, explaining he had been on the phone with the airline.  He decided to fly out to train for the week.  His coaches were there, he needed to pick up his equipment anyway, so he figured he could get away for the week.  I asked when he was leaving, and he said, tomorrow.  I asked when he decided, and he said, today.  Early on, he gratuitously asked my permission.  I cannot remember his exact words — it was either “if that’s okay?” or “if you don’t mind?”  I laughed and said, of course you should go . . . but I wish you were going on Sunday instead of on Saturday.

BFD is so singular in his thinking.  He really only thinks of himself, but it seems that he is trying to include me, awkwardly.  Yesterday’s philanthropy discussion and aspiration discussion, and today’s gratuitous request for permission to go, he is reaching out and at least considering me, my feelings, my interest.  

I mentioned to him  that I got a little spoiled having him in town these past three weeks.  I said, we actually saw each other twice in a week.  He said, yeah, well, March is rough.  (Uh,  they’re all rough.)  

We are making slow, laborious progress.  He was cleaning and packing last night while we spoke.  He mentioned that maybe he’d leave me the car or leave me the key while he was gone.  I said, why don’t you just give me the key and I will drive you to the airport.  He said, he’d have to see how the morning went, blah blah blah.  I reminded him I would be happy to drive him to the airport and he was so short: “yeah, I know!  I heard you!  I get it!  Look, let’s talk tomorrow.”

So I was pissed.  For real.

My phone rang as soon as we hung up . . . and it was BP.

Because I was still seething, I gave him the highlights — and he said, without affect, “he is in love with you.”  I said, no, he’s not.  He said, later, you’re in love with him.  I said, no, I’m not.  

If you have ever read this before, you know that I am very spoiled, often wildly insensitive to the feelings of the men I love the most, and I can be as raging a narcissist as the three most important men in my life — BFD, BP, and A.  My world is all about me.  Even at my lowest, most impoverished moments, I have always known, down deep, that I would be okay, in part, because I would be protected from disaster by the men who love me (those three, plus W, E, and JF, who stepped up when BP failed me).  I am not proud of that — I am not proud to be spoiled, to be vain, to be a snob.  But that is a part of of who I am and it is a lot of what I am working on.

When I think about my relationship with BFD objectively, I know how well we are doing.  I know that we are reaching out to each other and connecting.  I know we are considering each other in decisions we are making.  Had I raised huge objections to his last-minute trip, I wonder what his reaction would have been.  I assume he would have still gone, but it is an interesting thing to consider.  

I am with him, in part, because I would never object to him flying out for a week to train.  I already know when he is training this summer and I know that he has decided that since he will be in the US this summer, he will pick up the last remaining incredibly dangerous hobby in which he is not already involved.  I have asked him to do it as safely as possible, but what can you do.  

He is who he is — an adventurer, an athlete, a master of the universe.  The characteristics that make me crazy about him also result in his constantly pushing himself to be better, stronger, more physically engaged in the world around him.  He needs to do that to be who he is. I saw him when he was injured and he was morose.  

If I accept the parts of him I love, I have to accept the parts of him that make him that way.

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