Where BFD is utterly predictable, LP is utterly unpredictable.

I knew deep down that at some point he’d resurface, worse for the wear. It’s why I’ve been so tormented. I could envision no future in which he did not exist in my life in some way. It’s why I’d deliberately downshifted to friend, reaching out a couple of times a week: checking in, very friendly, very unromantic. I asked after his parents, his child, etc. Never, I miss you. Never, I want to see you. Just a hope you’re well.

So, I was shocked to hear from him late last night and more shocked that we made plans for the next time he’s back . . . plans that could throw my world into chaos.

If I were smart, I would stick to my guns and keep the friend barriers up. But I am not smart. I am dumb when it comes to him.

But I have a really good reason . . .

I feel so warm and loved right now. This feeling, right now, is what it’s all about. This is how I always want to feel. Warm and loved and giddy and giggly and smiling. I can’t sleep and I can’t stop smiling.

I love hearing this man I adore lose his ever-loving mind at the thought of being with me. I love hearing him breathe after we say goodnight but cannot bear to disconnect the line.

It began so innocently.

I sent him an email with a link to free will astrology for his sign. It moved me and I thought he would enjoy it. I tagged the email, which goes to his blackberry, but is reviewed during the day by his staff, “personal . . . and probably quite goofy.”

I sent it at 1:04 am, knowing he’d get it in the morning before they did and would be able to see and delete. It was friendly, and I closed repeating a phrase from free will astrology as I told him I hope the next few days find you “fierce and relaxed . . .” I loved the idea of him fierce and relaxed.

2.5 minutes later, I got a reply: “Funny just leaving work and on my way home. Ugh” It was 1:06 am.

I replied back “Oh, that’s terrible!!!! I just sent my last work email about 10 minutes ago, but I was in a nightgown in bed when I did it.” Which I was. I was letting him know I feel your pain, but I know my suffering is nothing compared to yours.

He heard, nightgown. His immediate response: “Show me”

So I did.

The last time we spoke at length was 2-3 weeks ago, and I sent him photos using my webcam so he could see how I looked (cute) and what I was wearing (a dress). This time, I did the same. The quality is terrible, but the point is that he can see me, as if he were here. No makeup. Hair full and down and cascading around my face.

He sent me a picture with his shirt partially unbuttoned as he got ready for bed. I loved it.

I sent him a couple of more photos, nothing racy, but I know how to push his buttons. I know how the hint of something drives him mad. I know what he loves about a woman’s body, about my body, and how to display it to fuel all of his fantasies, while still keeping it very clean.

We had an entire conversation in photos zipping back and forth across the 12 blocks that separate us. They said, I am here, with you.

Then he called me.

It was wonderful to hear his voice. We talked about everything and nothing. We just talked to hear the other’s voice, to assure the other of our ardent passion, and to make plans to move our relationship ahead.
He loves my body, my face, and my mind. He loves how much I am willing to share with him, how open I am, and how much I want to be with him. I told him how much I miss him, how much I want to be with him, how much I want to have sex with him. He told me all of the same (and how). We want to be together so badly.
He drives me wild. He has opened me up more than any man ever and we’ve still not slept together. Though that is all about timing and formality at this point. We want to be together. I told him definitively and unequivocally, I want to have sex with you. Now. He agreed. Now.

It’s been two months, I said, since we’d really been together, since we really kissed. He said something like, I know, it’s been two months since I’ve been naked with you [ahem, half-naked and fully asleep] and something about how it long it had been since he’d had sex, which was vaguer but predated me.

That really struck me. He has not had sex with anyone else. I just assumed he had. He’s an amazing guy: handsome, sexy, confident, and sensual. He’s wildly successful and travels all the time, with an ex/wife throwing herself at him and a team of young smart women surrounding him always. I could not imagine a separation during which he was not sexually active because it’s so much a part of who he is. That was my belief, despite things he had said. I just presumed certain things.

Apparently, I was very wrong and that wrongness underscored again our fight from our last date when I presumed that he had sent me pictures that he was distributing. I had realized the night before that the photos he’d sent me were time coded on many different days while we’d been apart and I noted that to him, not meaning to hurt him. I meant to tell him it’s okay that you’re with other people right now. I am with you when I am with you and I understand your life is difficult and complicated. [And I am not yet sleeping with him or dating him exclusively, so it’s all okay right now. He also knows it won’t always be.]

What I said hurt him badly. He took it as an accusation rather than as an acknowledgement of a truth I thought existed.

He is a photographer and an artist, and he takes pictures of everything. I love getting a shot of him smiling from wherever he happens to be, or a shot of whatever he happens to be wearing that day. Even when we’re apart, a photo like that is like having him with me, even when we’re 2k miles apart. It’s shorthand, too: I am back at work in town; I am with my kid at a thing. It says a lot, but I never considered it personal to me. Worse yet, I always considered it somewhat impersonal . . . a playboy thing to do, a false intimacy. I love seeing him, and as I have told him, how he likes to show himself to me, but I never thought I was the only recipient. I never thought it was just me.

I was wrong. He was devastated. It damaged us.

He said in the midst of this loving conversation rather cruelly and very pointedly that I should note the timestamp on the photo he sent me (which was within 2 minutes of when he’d sent it). I heard anger in his voice. I ignored it in the flow of the conversation, but it registered and it hurt.

He had heard me when it came up over coffee, his brain connecting statements I’d made to him often: send me stuff you take for me. It had never occurred to him before because he never took them for anyone else, and it never occurred to him that I viewed something delicate and lovely as “a move.” But I did.

So, in the middle of all of our declarations and renewals of the passion we have for each other, I learned that he’s been monogamous and celebate and that he was still hurt by my presumption that he was not.

Though it’s taken up a ton of space in this post, it did not take up much time in the conversation, which was really loving and tender.

We made plans to be together as soon as he returned from this week’s madness. It could be Saturday, it could be next week. He’ll be working across 4 time zones in three days, and not sure if he’ll be stuck there for the weekend or not.

We said good night, somewhat awkwardly, because there is so much more we want to say. There is so much emotion there. Instead, we held the line open, listening to each other breathe. I love hearing him breathe.

I think I love him. I really do. I am still not convinced that we can be together, but I want him so badly. I want to possess every single part of him and give him every single part of me.

It’s scary to care this much when so much is up in the air [his life and career and situation with his ex/wife — my life and career and situation with BFD].

I had committed to myself that I would be his friend, but the truth is, and has always been, that our attraction and our chemistry is overwhelming.

For as long as I can, I am going to hold on to this feeling right now: I feel warm and loved and I cannot stop smiling.

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