As soon as I got back from my workout, I checked my email and saw the fabulous Mad Margaret‘s 2 comments directly above an email from Elle entitled “Get Jennifer Aniston’s Latest Look.” Needless to say, a Friends title only made sense.

(Plus, the content is . . . well, you’ll see . . .)

Today is the first time I have seen BFD since we started having our intense conversations last week and then the break or whatever the fuck we did on Tuesday.

We spoke this afternoon for 10 minutes, when he immediately called me back from his car (which he never does), then jumped for a business call, and then called me back 10 minutes later for another 17 minutes. Weird. It was mostly about business, a bit about our workout and some logistical issues (literally, how am I getting there and home in the rain), and then just general stuff. He had a deal close today, not a surprise, something he considers “a tier 2” deal. I made him be excited about it. Literally, paused to make him be enthusiastic.

He got a little heated responding to something. Not angry, just a little intense, rejecting something I was asking on behalf of my people for his deal. He kept saying “[Plan], I am not mad at you.” I didn’t think he was. I didn’t think he was angry at all, but he was being overly sensitive, continuing to clarify things, and assuring and reassuring me that he was not mad at me. Okay . . .

I said something to him a few times really bothered him. We agreed that our business deal will conclude at the end of September. This had always been considered, but now it’s explicit. I agreed, saying “we’d close the book on everything.” He replied, after a long pause, “On business, Plan. We will close the book . . . on business.”

We agreed I’d get myself to class, he volunteered to move his massage back so he could drive me home after class (he’s never moved a massage to drive me), and outlined his errands after the massage. My thought: what the fuck do I care what you do later. What Ever. Anyway.

Because we spoke for nearly half an hour, it delayed him running downtown proper to do the stuff he needed to do and it became a little uncertain if he’d be making it at all.  I had to see him to attend class. He had the certificate and I could not afford to do it any other way. I still need him to cover me for a bit, which chafes him, of course, but he’d already agreed and he honored his agreement, saying, “well, there is no one else I would give it to . . .” (Insert eyeroll, yeah, I know, babe, I know.) I actually considered hitting up one of my friends for the money to do it, but I decided that was ridiculous and I did not want to have to explain why it was so very important I attended tonight’s class. I also called a few about whether I could get the certificate from them and then swap out BFD’s, but none of them were going tonight.

As I result, I made a few calculations. I called W and JF and got an invite to a couple of fundraisers as back-up. I threw on a chic lbd, with a fabulous coat (it was drizzly), along with flats and heels, and threw a tank, yoga pants, etc., into a bag.

Hot Neighbor drove me down . Though he was not going to training, he needed to pick up his card for the fall. Before I left, I texted BFD to see if he knew whether he’d be there and he was still uncertain. I waited for 20 minutes, confirming my backup plans.

Finally, 5 minutes before it started, I got a text from him saying he was 2 minutes away. I ran to the ladies to change and could not find him. He’d been looking for me, having already checked in. The bathroom was past the desk, so he walked me quickly toward the studio and said, eh, we’ll work it out after.

Class had begun by the time we got in and we found spots quickly.

In class,I realized I had grabbed the wrong pants. With a tight tank that hits at my waist, I had low rise yoga pants. I spent time in class readjusting my outfit, to limit the skin exposure. All of that would have been fine, except BFD was behind me and about two feet to my left. We were constantly in each other’s sight lines, especially because of the huge mirror at the front.

We were also matching, which amused me no end. Because I’d dressed so quickly, I was still wearing a triple strand necklace.

At one point, during a change, he looked over and gestured to my necklace and smiled — seriously, it was ridiculous. At another, he asked about my fancy water, which I looked at him as I drank in case he wanted any. He was interacting with me often or trying to catch my eye, or sticking his tongue out at me in a way only I would see. We were, more than normal, a couple in this class. Towards the end when we all shifted position, I went to the very back of the room — it’s easier for me and my mistakes are less obvious. That’s where he was and we playfully bickered about who should be in front of whom. The woman next to us, who I’d befriended towards the end of the summer when he was away at camp, listened to the bickering and made of show of moving up so we were next to each other. That meant throughout we were constantly in danger of injuring each other, which I found hilarious.  He nearly kicked me many times and he was often slightly off.

Once we were through, I threw my flats back on, picked up my bags and a couple of BFD’s buddies came up to compliment me on my ridiculously inappropriate necklace. He chatted a bit with a few people, so I stepped back into the hall to speak to the woman who’d moved about the class we’d missed and how she was doing with it. He came up and said, okay, Plan, we have to go . . . and escorted me out a back door.

We were halfway to my house before we realized I hadn’t paid and he left his credit card at the desk. Oops.

The car ride was a bit awkward. He was checking his email as he drove and we were in traffic, which annoys him no end. He asked if I wanted to stop at the burger joint for dinner, then reconsidered because he’s eating too much meat. As I told him, there is no such thing, but I was not interested in food (definitely not burgers) and neither was he. As we drove the all of 8 minutes from the place to my building, he complained about his car, and I teased him he always does (and which I reminded him he did on the day he got it [Date 4]), and we talked about nothing of consequence.

Frankly, I was a bit nervous about how the drop off would go.  This is the first time we’ve seen each other since the intense conversations began.  I played this moment out in my mind earlier — do I hug him and kiss his cheek, as I would with A, BP, and any of the guys?  do I shake his hand?  What message to I send?

When we arrived, he immediately turned and kissed me, which surprised me. It really did. It was not a passionate exploring kiss, it was as he would have kissed me at any point in the last few months under similar circumstances. It was nice and comfortable and, you know, boyfriendy.

I left my stuff in the front seat as I grabbed my bag from the back, leaving both doors open because he has a tendency to pull out quickly when he’s in a hurry, though he usually lingers to check out my ass for a moment. As I leaned back in to grab my purse, I thanked him for driving me home.

He said, a little frustrated, “[Plan], you don’t have to thank me . . . or be so formal.”

I looked at him and smiled.  Then, I leaned back in fully and kissed him.

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