Every conversation I have with BFD operates always on two levels, the words we actually say and the meaning we know is in the other’s mind. The most shocking thing to me about all of BFD’s big reveals about his feelings is that I knew exactly what they were. He always knows what’s troubling me and vice versa. It’s a cool parlour trick, this knowing without words.
I had a date with BFD tonight. On Sunday, he bumped me to today. I did not speak to him yesterday or before class today, which is unusual, but intentional on my part, plus I am extremely busy. This was our first actual date since we have had all of our intense conversations.
We had our regular Tuesday workout, so I headed down and he met me there. I was happily ensconsed in the hallway when he arrived. He walked over to me and stood across from me talking for a few minutes about nothing. He asked how I was getting home, and I said, you’re taking me . . . we’re having dinner, remember? Oh, um . . . I said, you bumped from from Sunday to tonight? Right, dinner, cool. Needless to say, the women around us found this amusing.
When class finally started we were one person apart so I could not see him while we did our thing until the end when we were next to each other, nearly kicking each other. He was effervescent and chatty with the women around him. The woman in between us kept looking to me to see if I wanted to be next to him, which I did not.
Class is really hard and I struggle through it, but it was better than last week.
After class, the instructor asked for musical suggestions, so BFD encouraged me, wordlessly, to speak with her. I switched to street shoes and spoke with her for a few minutes while he was he was talking to other people, and gathering email addresses, strangely. From time to time, the women would look at me because it’s clear we’re together from how he acts, even when we’re not interacting. As women, respecting that relationship, even when it’s not explicit, is understood and they look to me for guidance on how to react to him. I mostly ignored him until he announced that we’re leaving. As we wandered out, I just asked him bluntly why he was collecting the addresses and he said the former instructor wanted to have a social gathering with the class, so I said, I’d like to be invited, and so he did.
We headed off to a pizza place that was reviewed favorably last week.
We were chatty and catching up, giving each other a bit of a hard time. He had a very good day, a very good couple of days, as a matter of fact. He made x on Monday and 3x on Tuesday, which made him very, very happy. It made me happy, too. It’s a big deal. It’s a lot of money. It’s more than I have made cumulatively. He tried to be cool about it, but he was very proud to share the information. He always is. He needs to share, to reach out and to bring me in. It’s not just about great information, it’s about what he’s thinking, what he’s doing, etc.
We looked a little ridiculous at the restaurant, both in obvious workout clothes, eating pizza (and salads). The place was actually really nice, so we were more out of place than normal, but then we’ve done upscale asian with him dressed similarly, so we’re cool with it and they were amused.
BFD handled the ordering beautifully, and I made the perfect refinement. The food was excellent. The conversation? A little stressful.
When he chooses to fully engage, BFD wants to be completely involved in everything in my life. Tonight, he started asking me very specific questions about when things went sideways with BP. (He does not know I briefly dated BP.) I explained it to him vaguely, as I have before, but he drilled down for details, relentlessly.
I mentioned that I used to travel with BP all the time, but I don’t anymore. BFD looked at me carefully and slightly amazed and said “you were his bitch.” He quickly continued, “I mean . . . I don’t care.” He was referring to me traveling with him and it’s about that he says he does not care. He does, of course, care that I travel with someone who is not him. He does care that I had someone who’d been very important in my life who cut me off financially. He understands why he cut me off. He only knows half of it. Were I not with BFD, I would still be supported by BP. By making that choice, I chose poverty.
He announced that he had a conversation with someone who was willing to the small deal I am doing. Essentially, he told me he did half of my job with a phone call, whereas it’s taken me 4 months. He counted them on his fingers. I looked at him and said, “that’s great, B, take it.” He was incredulous. I continued, hey, don’t like me stop you, you have it done, do it.
My tone was even, but I was visibly hardened. He said, “Plan, it’s not about doing the deal, it about you doing the deal. I am doing this for you.” I told him I understood that, but I was clearly hard and disconnected.
He pulled me back to him, but it was a little sensitive.
We talked world economy and news and spent the end of the conversation with him wanting me to start picking up some contract work. He’s so worried about me. We ended it gossiping about my friends.
On the drive home, he expressed somewhat bitterly how boring this town is. I said agreeing with him, that I always thought I’d be living elsewhere by now. He laughed and said, you know, 3 or 4 years from now, I am still going to be here.
Yes, I know.
That conversation transitioned immediately into a discussion of the new condos opening. It’s a trial balloon. He is thinking about moving downtown. Knowing him, he’s already spoken to a broker. I expect within 3-6 months, he will be living in a high-rise.
I asked him about the gala to which he did not take me. He had a terrible time. He didn’t know anyone — of course. I did not tell him, you’re such an asshole, that’s why you take your well-connected girlfriend with you, fuckhead. Instead, I said “that’s unfortunate.” But he knew what I did not say.
As we drove along, we spoke about business a little. He desperately wants me to close this deal because he needs me to be successful. It’s so simple and yet I cannot do it. He gave me specific advice and counsel and it was adorable and yet I was annoyed.
We spoke about the timeline and I said, look, I know I have two weeks left to get it done or you’re shutting me down. He pulled back on the timeline, of course, because it was a way for him to inspire me to move faster and not a real thing. He knows now that I don’t respond well.
He just desperately wants this to work. He questions BP’s credibility (frankly, as do I), which I told BFD also affects my credibility with him. He objected to that, but we both know it’s true. It’s a feint. He implored me “just get your deal done. I need you to do this. I need you to be a winner.” He does not need it for him . . . he never did. He needs it for me and for us. It has been implicit and explicit.
We pulled up in front of my building and he turned and kissed me. We discussed our plans for Saturday. We have nothing firm set. He kept trying to set plans, but I told him we’d figure something out. He asked, “and we’ll have sex?” Yes, we’ll have sex. He leaned over as I leaned forward to pick up my bag and rubbed my back down to my ass. I turned and grabbed him and kissed him passionately, then I grabbed my bag, reminded him of the left over pizza in the back seat and climbed out. He was beaming.
I wrote him an email apologizing for being grumpy with him, but I did not send it.