I just had the shortest date of my life: about 90 minutes.
BFD called me at 715 and asked me to pick up chinese from our favorite spot, so I did. It’s en route. I ordered his favorite, a new dish for me, and got the hot sauce he loves.
I made it there a few minutes late because the exit is different than from the highway I take from my house, but I made it there reasonably on time. We kissed when I arrived, ate side by side, and flipped through various sports on tv.
When I got there, he had already set the table. As he grabbed water for me, he mentioned, casually, that the meds he had been waiting for from his specialist had arrived.
He did not say at that point that he had taken them.
While we ate, they kicked in and made him lethargic. He grabbed his phone and surfed to side effects as he started to slide.
He curled up next to me on the sofa stretching his legs across me for about 20 minutes. Then he decided we needed to switch positions so he could lay down more.
I offered to help him upstairs and to leave. He said, no, stay, I’m fine, but I don’t think sex is going to happen . . . as I watched his eyes close.
I watched him get goofier and goofier and eventually fall asleep. He stopped making sense or processing a few times when he would shake himself awake, losing the narrative in a rather easy show we were watching on the history channel. (“But what does vinegar have to do with gelatin????” Uh, nothing, they switched segments. “But I don’t understand, they were just talking about gelatin!” Yes, now they’re on another acid. “But what does it have to do with the bones????” Nothing, honey, let’s get you upstairs.)
Eventually, he decided he needed to go to bed. He asked me what the food cost, said he’d pay me tomorrow, then thought better of it and sent me upstairs to where he keeps cash in neat stacks. He had me grab $100 and when I got back said, okay, I will split it with you. Since it’s in 20s, he grinned broadly and handed me $40 and kept $60. So cute. (It’s extra money for me, which is important this week when I am broke.)
He kissed me a couple of times, apologized sincerely and goofily, and made plans for dinner tomorrow. (I know he has a day-trip, so I doubt we will see each other. Still, the thought is nice.)
He walked me out and kissed me again without letting me help him get upstairs. As I sat in the car, I saw he left the front door open, so I waited a few minutes and then went back in to check on him. He said he meant too. Uh-huh. I closed the door behind me and let him take himself to bed.
He never takes drugs, especially not those drugs, and he felt horrible for taking them while I was there. He has been in significant pain for a while — getting worked on almost daily for a couple of weeks.
He has an adventure planned for mid-May that he has been structuring, so I know it’s more important than normal for him to get back right. (It’s not a trip I will be taking with him, but he is arranging everything for a team of people.) From the physical therapy stuff scattered around the living room, I know he’s been in bad shape. On Friday, he had me massage the muscles, though he had been in pt earlier in the day.
Still, taking a pill you’ve never taken before while your girlfriend is arriving with dinner . . . fail.
Tomorrow is another day. It amuses me that we are so tightly connected at this point that when we’re both here, it does not seem so weird to have plans to see each other daily. We don’t always make it, but it’s a huge shift from when I longed for the day of two dates in the same week . . .