I love tormenting LP.  The thought of him torments and distracts me, so from time to time, I enjoy doing the same to him.

As I wrapped up my work day, I texted him this: “It’s cold, wet, and dreary here, which makes me want to do delightfully naughty things to you.”

Because, seriously, it was all I could think about.

I love the idea of spending a cold, wet, dreary day in bed.  The fact that LP was 1700 miles away, and in meetings, did not serve to deter me, although it kept it at the level of idea.  (BFD, with whom I have spent a few cold, wet dreary afternoons in bed, is out of town at a competition.)

I also did not care if I heard back from him.  I sent it because I am trying to keep true to me, despite the damper of the insane schedules and egos of the men in my life.

I did hear back from him and we drove each other to distraction for a good 40 minutes until I had to start getting ready for my early dinner with N (followed by an event and then late drinks).

I love that LP and I share a deep passion, though it’s awful that we cannot be together.  I think of him as someone with whom I am having an affair.  He’s not a real part of my world anymore.  He is a fantasy, who happens to live and breathe, but not near enough to me to matter.

When I am feeling playful, I will occasionally reach out to him because I enjoy him and the fantasy of him.  I know I am not with him and that it is doomed, despite our adorable meet-cute and history.

Reaching out to him is about me, not about him, though I do, of course, harbor the fantasy that we can somehow overcome the the myriad obstacles we face — his ex, his kid, his intense job, my ex(ish), my biological clock, my job that keeps throwing me and BFD together in ways that may be very permanent.

So, LP, though I truly adore him, is just a fantasy.  Fortunately, he’s a fantasy that sometimes texts back at then end of a long work week out of town.

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After arriving home from my date with N, I realized I’d missed a call from him around 1030 pm.  No voicemail, so I have no idea what he wanted or if he flew back.

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