I have floated home.  Okay, maybe not floated, but I am still beaming 3 hours after I last kissed LP.

LP works absurdly hard and right now, his schedule is insane.  He is working 7 days a week, often 18 hours a day.  Needless to say, we don’t have a lot of time to spend together.

This morning, I knew I’d be downtown tonight, so I texted to say that I will be downtown for a show, I will carve out 10 minutes to kiss you, and I will brook no refusal.

It was audacious, but our thing is to be vulnerable, open, expressive, honest.  I wanted it to happen, so I told him it will.  I heard nothing back.  5 hours later (2 hours before I was heading downtown) I texted him “Will be downtown at 730, when can you spare 10 minutes.”  I specifically asked him when, not if.  Again, I heard nothing.

My plans with my friends went a little sideways, so I decided to head down at 830 intead of 730.  At 745, I got a text “I am here.”  I told him about the delay, but he said he may go home since he’d been in the office since 330 am.  Yikes.

I told him I’d text when I was 10 minutes out, but that I understood if he went home and to bed.  I got ready assuming I’d not see him, but I still wanted to look kinda cute (black pencil skirt, bright 3/4 t-shirt, black cashmere v-neck, patent ballet flats).  On the bus, I texted him that I was 10 away and he replied back that he was “still here” and would go downstairs.  We text flirted until I disembarked.  Somehow, we missed each other, so he walked up to me still in full view of his lobby.  I waited to hug him until we were slightly obscured.

There is something so perfect about wrapping my arms around him.  He’s adorable and handsome and just present.  I hugged him tightly while I said, “you look terrible!”  Because he did — drawn, exhausted, grey.  He said, Oh, that’s awful!” He said I looked great, and “snazzy.” I kissed him and I held his hand and he said, “okay, let’s grab a drink,” which is odd since he really does not drink, nor do I.

As we walked across the street to a brand new bar next to the place where we met, he said, I have to tell you what’s happening . . .  [with growing excitement] and you’ll understand because you’re a lawyer!  I smiled at him, thinking, yeah, not bloody likely, but take your best shot.

The place was empty, except for a sole bartender, so we sat at the bar, ordered cocktails (which is unusual because neither of us really drink) and he started to tell me everything that was happening and why he’s working so much etc.  It was fascinating, actually, managing his work, managing the egos of his partners, etc.  He’s a big deal and it is hard because he’s still relatively young to have so much responsibility.  He also told me that he had another insane deadline after this one — and he’ll be traveling.  Grrrr.

He vented for 10 minutes straight about work, grateful that I understood him — both what the issues are and what he needed, which was was to vent his frustrations to someone who cares.  I kept my hand on his thigh as he spoke.  At one point, I asked if it was okay, and he grabbed my hand, squeeezed it, and moved it higher up his thigh.  From time to time, we kissed.

When he finished, he was so grateful that I care for him, that I held his hand, and stroked his thigh, and was present for him as he spoke.  He is himself with me — dramatic and quirky and arrogant, but very, very real. Because I know what he does, because he tells me his interactions with other people, I know he can be hard and demanding, but I know that like me, all he really wants is to be loved and accepted and understood. No matter the surface, that’s the reality.

He finished telling me how horrible everything is that work is so crazy that he’s not seen his kid, his therapist (and forgot to cancel — leading the therapist to freak out a little and call him “to make sure you’re not dead”), or remembered to call his father for his birthday.

Then he turned to me  and said okay, tell me about your horrible day, so I did. I told him I was editing it but that I cried in front of BFD because he was making me confront the horrible pressure I am under while I am trying to get things done and that he walked away from me while I cried.

I leaned in to LP and said, honey, I know we’re kinda narcissists, but our exes are hardcore narcissists and I know [BFD] was incapable of hearing what I was saying or comforting me and that while this was going on, all I knew was that “[LP] would NEVER have reacted that way.” He smiled and agreed and then told me an anecdote about his ex who, when he complained about work, told him to quit his job and then made it about her.

[BFD made the source of my pain about him, which separated him from me in my pain.  It’s hard for me to describe how hardened I am towards BFD. His attitude yesterday — pushing when I needed to be held, questioning when I needed encouragement — I realized he could never be the man I need or want . . . and that the man I need and want was 10 blocks away in his office kicking ass and taking names.]

LP and I spoke about our spending the night together and how much we loved it and how much we can’t wait to do it again.  By this point, we were kissing a bit, not caring about the bartender, the table of people seated in a banquette behind us, or the strong lighting around us.  We needed to kiss each other, though we avoided a full-on make-out session.

He told me, whispered in my ear actually, when I stood and wrapped my arms around him that he’d had a very intense sex dream about me a couple of nights ago . . . and that I was amazing.  I laughed and said, I did not know if i would measure up to his amazing dream.

He told me toward the end of our time together that he’s glad we’re taking it slow, but he really wants to have sex with me.  Soon.

I am definitely with him on that.

[On Saturday, we started exchanging texts while he worked.  I am often provocative with him, which is something he loves and something I’d not been comfortable being since pre-A.  (With BP and BFD, I would be responsive, but they always initiated it.)  So we came up with a “reward” when he finishes his project.  Frankly, I don’t know which one of us is looking forward to it more.]

As we walked outside and kissed on the patio, I told him I wanted to send him more photos.  He’s not on facebook, so his only pictures of me are ones I send him.  He sends me photos regularly, which is adorable, and lets me be a part of where he is and what he’s doing.  He was so happy, even though I let him know they were just pictures and nothing intimate, but he just loves to see my face.

I texted him again as I walked down the street to meet my friends and he returned to the office, to let him know how much I loved seeing him and how amazing it is to share with someone who understands: “That you’re hot and a great kisser is just bonus.”

He was on my mind as I had club soda with my friends before we went to a show.  I spent a lot of time talking about things semi-related to LP and his ex and I slipped and called him my boyfriend and then corrected myself.

But he feels like my boyfriend.  He is the only man I want to see, the only man I want to kiss, and the only man I want to sleep with.  (And at this point, I really want to sleep with him.)  We know enough of each other by this point to expect it will be great.  The passion we share for each other is overwhelming enough to ensure it.

He listened to me, he understood me, and he embraced me.  All of that underscored the horribleness from BFD earlier that afternoon.  LP is here for me, I am here for him, and we are making sacrifices and taking risks just to see each other.  He laughed that he’s not seen or done anything, but he made time to see me.  He said it full of import — he mentioned in the same breath that the kid has wanted to see him for the last 4 days and he has not been able to — but he made time to see me.

We are better together than either of us is apart.  It’s really beautiful so far.

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