It’s before 6 am and I have the loveliest man snoring beside me . . . the Nice Guy.

We had a rough night — an elegant wine dinner at a favorite restaurant with one more drink than absolutely necessary.  It hit me hard as we were on the floor (after we’d started making out in the car [inside his garage] and I pulled him into a guest room before finally adjourning to his bed and then the floor) and I crawled — assisted — to the master bath.

He made a pallet for me on the floor of his bath and then laid down near me, wrapped in a blanket on the cold marble floor. We slept there for an hour or so, and now, he is sleeping beside me, ailing and hungover, and I am reflecting on exactly how I ended up here and where I go now.

I have been very very honest with him since the start — too honest, perhaps somewhat cruel.  He refers to BFD, LP, and BP as my three boyfriends.  He knows he cannot compete.  He says he is just enjoying me now.  But we both know he loves me and we both know I will break his heart.

I joked with one of our table mates for tonight as we left the ladies room that I have already broken up with him twice — she was shocked, really anyone would be — and said but he’s so nice, smart, handsome.  Which he is.  And I do adore him.

I am also, ultimately, breaking my own heart.

When we arrived, they greeted us and then had the hostess show us to the private dining room as “the NiceGuys” which I loved.  Being with him is easy.  I am very fond of him.  He’s a truly wonderful man.

But he’s a rest stop for me, I fear.  We share few interests — other than me — and he has no opinions on things that matter intensely to me.  It’s aggravating and frustrating.  Also, the sex . . . not good.  I lived that before with A and I am not going to be with someone I find unsatisfying.

So, he is beside me in bed and I am thinking about LP, knowing full well I may marry BFD, and yet enjoying the embrace of a wonderful man and a life into which I could slip easily.

I love being with him.  He is present and affectionate, with just enough attitude to keep it interesting.  He reminds me physically of my ex-husband A.  He is handsome.  He is growing on me.  He takes care of me in many ways — he greeted me on Monday night after I had an unexpected day trip with grilled steaks and a salad and a great bottle of wine.  He spoils me, obviously, but I spoil him, too.  We are generally quite happy.

But it’s not quite right.  And that’s okay for now.  We’re figuring it out, and I am being very honest and open.

While I was curled around the tiny WC with the spins, BFD was tucked into bed after a long hard emotional day of dealing with his issue and work and whatever and LP was at a different excellent restaurant in town.  (More on this later.)  TNG took amazing care of me, as he always does, and showed me, in ways large and small, how life with him would/could be.

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