Last night, I drove out to BFD’s place to watch the FNL finale, have dinner, and have sex. Not in that order.

His place is on the same side of the city as mine and there are two highway routes to get there. It is about 10 miles away. Thanks to the highways, it is not long, but it is isolated. Driving out as the city recedes further behind me feels like getting away to a resort, which is enhanced by his place itself. His view is breathtaking — high on a cliff, it overlooks the hills and golf courses far in the distance. With high ceilings and huge, unadorned windows, that sense of awayness, seeing nothing else but trees and lakes and hills, with the nearest houses appearing miles away. It has the feel of an elegant resort bungalow. Everything is perfect and perfectly maintained. It is sophisticated and understated. Plus, he has the best l’occitane and kiehl’s stuff in all the bathrooms. It really is the BFD resort.

I was actually 15 minutes late — I was having a frustrating work day thanks to a moron client. As I drove the 15-20 minutes (thanks to a new short-cut he showed me between the highways), I gradually unwound so when I arrived, I was good.

I knew we were just hanging out so I wore a cotton/lycra pencil skirt and a 3/4 sleeve, low cut t-shirt. Casual, comfortable, but ready to hit a sushi joint if he felt like driving into civilization. I toned down the makeup, too — really just a little eyeliner and brown mascara, a lip stain, and a dusting of my nars blush. My whole look was lounging on the sofa with my boyfriend. While looking hot . . .

I pulled into my space, but not into the garage. I knocked and opened the unlocked front door and apologized for being late. He was already on the sofa with the television on, flipping between two movies, dressed barely in a tank and boxer briefs. He asked if I were hungry as I made it into the living room — I answered as I always do, I ate a little while ago, but I could certainly eat again. (I scrambled two eggs with some ricotta before I left because I knew it would likely be a bit of time before we ate, if we were eating. It was an absolutely delicious mid-afternoon snack and 200-250 calories.)

We had only 15 minutes until the show started and BFD does not have a dvr even though he has hd. He asked me to come over to him on the sofa and he pulled me on top of him. As he kissed me, he asked about my day. I said, as I kissed him, it was frustrating. He, being BFD, wanted details, so I quickly provided them as we undressed, still kissing.

He flipped off the tv as clothes flew all over the living room. (It had been now nearly three weeks since we last had sex.)

The idea initially was to fool around a bit in the very limited time before the show started. That idea went out the window quickly, even though he asked if we should take a break. I said, yeah, sure, as we continued.

The sex was very satisfying . . . and amusingly brief, despite scene and lighting changes. From time to time, he paused to adjust the lighting (it was within reach), which amused me. He always surprises me by how strong he is and he tried out a few new positions and moves. There is usually something new when we are together, which always lets me know how much he has been thinking about it since we’ve been apart. I long realized, since our first night back after a long separation when he used completely new moves and I was foolishly suspicious of a separation dalliance, that he thinks about sex with me all the time. He handles it the way he handles everything else in his life — cautious in preparation and intense in the execution. This makes me very, very happy.

There are several things very clear to me about our sex life: it is the time we connect most demonstratively, we shut everything else out, and we focus only on making each other happy. We can be so cautious and reserved in dealing with each other that the only time we’re 100% in the moment and vulnerable is when we’re having sex. It’s terrible, I know, but we are slowly dropping our guards overall, thanks mostly to our continued unbelievable chemistry, our sexual proclivities, and the trust developing between us in and out of bed.

It’s complicated for us — we’re older, we have histories with other people, and he’s rich. What I do realize though is that we care deeply for each other (I think we love each other), we are only with each other, and we do have an unbelievable amount of trust built up on the things most important to us.

I spoke to BP later, who always tries to insinuate that BFD is not faithful to me. When I described the evening to him, he had to acknowledge that BFD, though he should be out enjoying the benefits of his labor, is true. He is. He could be a playboy. Women throw themselves at him all the time — he is attractive and supremely confident, and money is a powerful aphrodisiac. But that’s not who he is and it’s not what he wants. If it were, he would be with someone younger and less complicated than me.

Post-sex, etc., we started to get redressed (again, into basically nothing — I just grabbed my t-shirt and cute panties. We watched the show though missed a bit, discussed menu, ordered in chinese (as usual), got more dressed as the delivery arrived quickly, sat comfortably side by side eating very good chinese, enjoyed the finale and then curled up on the sofa, touching but not together, watching some movies.

As he decided it was time for him to head to bed and me to leave, he washed the dishes by hand and we discussed our calendar for the weekend. He is relatively free from work (for him), but has a work dinner obligation out of town on Saturday. We knew we’d be together on Sunday for a new sports activity. He told me the equipment was ready for the sports-related one we currently do, for whenever we go again, which he suggested would be this coming week.

(He loves that I am game for everything he throws at me. I tease him about his abysmal taste in music and some crappy films, but he knows I watch many of the same genre things he does.)

As I walked back into the living room, I took my shirt back off to put on my bra and he walked up behind me. After I finished getting dressed, we kissed for a bit and then I left.

One thing I have been absolutely obsessed about since we met is our height. BFD is basically my height and I normally date people at least 6 feet tall, which is 7 inches taller than me. I stood next to BFD in bare feet and realized we really are the same height, no matter what lie he tells himself. (It’s not all his fault, he suffered a catastrophic injury years ago, so he may be shorter now than he was in his youth, but still, he is my freaking height.) Incredibly muscular and strong, he outweighs me by 45 pounds. (Yes, that means BFD and I weighed about the same on NYD 2008. Scary.)

Being with him has become increasingly comfortable. We are now six months in, we are getting used to each other and how we each respond to things, and we seem to be in a good routine. (Of course, he mentioned that his workflow will change substantially in two weeks, sending him on more day trips and fewer multiple day trips. Yay.)

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