The last time I mentioned Bon Vivant here, it was lamenting the loss of my favorite cocktail dress, which I’d left at his fancy downtown tower apartment when I’d spent the night after a downtown event. Smartly, I’d brought two dresses, knowing I would be spending the night. We laughed about it at the time, knowing I’d see him again, and it wasn’t a big deal.
Except I didn’t hear from him.
I had texted him, followed up on the Saturday invite to my bff’s birthday party, and called him, and I heard nothing.
The next Tuesday (this would be last Tuesday), I had my standard Tuesday evening out with my friends. I had once invited him, weeks ago, when we still had an opening for another person. I had just enough beer to get perturbed that he’d still not called me, so I called his house, called his cell, and then texted him:
Hey, BV, it’s Planner. I left a black cocktail dress at your apt a couple of weeks ago. Would you please drop it in a bag & leave it at your concierge? Thanks!
My phone rang immediately.
He sounded awful. Like hadn’t slept for three days, hadn’t eaten for three days, awful.
Which is exactly what had happened.
He was rambling and depressed and honest and admitted he’d been detoxing and was a mess.
This, we know.
There was something about what he was saying and how he said it that made me want to rush to him.
Which I did.
The last time I’d seen him, he was incredibly ill. Then he disappeared.
He stood me up on Saturday … Except he hadn’t. He’d gone and I skipped it. In fact, he’d brought friends.
He is frequently misunderstood.
He also was depressed alone unappreciated and unloved.
Except he’s not unloved.
Despite all logic and common sense, I kinda love him. I do. It’s weird, but I do. That occurred to me this [Tuesday] morning when I had spent much of the morning with his arms wrapped around me, as he had nightmares.
But we are getting ahead of ourselves.
So BV sounded awful. He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept. I suggested a few all-night places between his place and mine.
He wasn’t going to leave his place. I teased him, called him Howard Hughes after
he admitted he hadn’t shaved since before I’d last seen him, and yet he refused to leave.
I told him fine, I am ordering a cab and bringing food over and I am going to make a frittata for you.
Awful threat, I know.
So, I did. My cab came at 1230 am, as I was still talking to him. I threw on clothes, threw eggs, feta, chorizo and an onion into my bag and headed to his building.
When I got there, the concierge was not at his post, but the outer doors were open. I called him from inside (locked elevators) and there was no answer. I called his house line and he answered rather confused about why I couldn’t get upstairs. While this discussion is ongoing, including his, “I’ll come get you” the door guy showed, and just let me up. Thanks door guy.
He looked bad. Thinner than he’d been as he was clearly not eating. He was in jeans and vintage long-sleeved tshirt and wearing glasses. I am always surprised at how perfectly normal he looks, for how utterly bizarre he actually is.
And yet he’s sort of very sweet and very normal, while living what would appear to be the life of a decadent hedonist.
So, he is thin, and greyish, and not eating. His sink had empty light beer cans and a blender that had at one point held a smoothie. BV is extraordinarily neat and has maid service, so this was unusual.
I hugged him, as a friend, and he looked a little shaky and confused, but grateful I’d shown up. The music from nightclub 5 blocks away was so loud he had the floor to ceiling patio doors open and we laughed about what would be next.
He makes a statement at some point that reflects that I am possibly the only real person in his life. He knows he can tell me everything. He does tell me everything.
He thanks me profusely for coming. He drops a casual mention of love. It’s intended to be casual, but we both know it’s not. It’s sort of love. We’re in this thing, it’s serious, and we know it. We’re in this relationship despite the fact we’re both beautiful disasters. Emphasis on disasters.
He tells me he showed up at my bff’s party. I said, you didn’t confirm, but he said . . . somewhat reasonably . . . I said I was going, so of course I went. That’s sort of how he lives his life. He said he was going, so he went. And he brought friends. In fact, he was mad at me for not being there.
That’s how we are: he made a commitment and he showed up, as promised. I assumed he’d bailed on me, and I made other plans.
[One of us is extremely commitment phobic . . .]
He also felt the need to point out that I’d showed up at his place with a “cokewhore” the last time I was there. Which I did. C. She did not acquit herself well. Sigh. Which also led to discussions about why one does not date young girls. Heh. He said it was fine, but the fact that he brought it up is meaningful. I apologized sincerely and he said it was okay and it was really okay.
His place is very open, so I immediately got to cooking as he puttered around a bit and filled me in on what had been happening as we listened to the nightclub’s djs play hip-hop classics.
I am comfortable enough there that I just found what I needed. I teased him about having cheap pans . . . clearly a man who doesn’t cook or eat at home. He has one all-clad pan, too big for our purposes, and an old small omelet pan.
He decided we’d watch a movie, and he bought a comedy release so new on ppv, I couldn’t believe it wasn’t still in the theater.
I chopped an onion and sauteed it, added in chorizo, and let everything cook for a while. He had put on pajama pants and a short-sleeved t-shirt, and brought the same out for me. As things cooked, I changed in his bathroom. It was now past 115 am and I was clearly going to be sleeping over.
I ended up making a huge 4-egg omelet for him, thinking I would have enough for him to have tonight and then something tomorrow for him for breakfast. I actually got him up to flip it for me. I would have broiled the top, but I was using a cheap pan.
The whole time I am there, I am very present, but also just being his friend. I am not his girl. I am there to save him from himself.
I serve him half of it and get water for both of us, and he is very moved that I am there, that I am (again) taking care of him, that I care. I am moved that he let me. He is a loner. He suffers in silence. He is open with me, and I am there for him.
That’s also sort of how we are.
I sat on the love seat as we started the movie until he beckoned me over. He wanted to snuggle with me on the sofa, which we did surprisingly successfully. He is small, three inches taller than me, at most, and we we are quite adept at snuggling in small spaces.
I think I nodded off briefly as we were watching the movie as being in his arms is so comfortable. I had my head on his shoulder facing him and away from the movie with our arms wrapped around each other, snuggling together so comfortably.
But, of course, snuggling eventually turned into kissing, and kissing turned into sex. But it was all very slow and very comfortable. It didn’t feel like that was the point. It felt natural and organic as he started to feel better.
Sex is such a strange thing. It’s so easy to tell so much about a person and a relationship by sex. We are comfortable. In fact, he chuckled afterward that he was sorry it was not his best work. It wasn’t. It was satisfying, sure, but it was just comfortable.
In fact, it was so comfortable that I tried to wave him off from certain things as I had my period, which was waning, and he had no issue soldiering on.
A weird thing: we have had sex before… unprotected, which was stupid, but we’d already pre-cleared we were clean weeks earlier. This time, he told me to grab protection. Which frankly, I found a little annoying as it took time to find it and he was still on the sofa. Another weird thing: it was nearly impossible to find, buried back in a drawer in his bedroom, clearly not often used.
The sex is comfortable, not particularly earth-shattering, and I am rather convinced it won’t be. He holds me tightly to his chest. When he looks at me, it’s so intense. But the actual sex . . . he’s been rather lazy and not trying too hard, which is actually rather charming. It’s just real. We’re in bed, we’re on the sofa, we have sex. No production, it’s just normal.
Strange that nothing makes me feel more like his girl than that nothing is a big production.
After, when I got up, I then grabbed him more food, we continued watching the movie until he fell asleep, snoring so loudly there was nothing I could do. I watched the movie, and turned down the volume as it was now nearly 4 am. Ultimately, I decided I had to go to bed. I had work to do the next morning before conference calls in the afternoon. I knew I could work from his place, which was my plan, but I had to go to bed, and while napping on his sofa was doable, there was no way I was going to sleep there.
But, I didn’t want to just go in there without permission . . . so I ultimately woke him up. We turned everything off and went in to bed. BV in bed is a super-cuddler. He needs to be touching me, wrapped around me, at all times, in his arms, holding hands. When I rolled away to sleep, he protested. At one point, I moved one of my hands and he sought me out and grabbed it with a bit of a grumble. When I awoke the next morning, he was wrapped around me, holding me tightly.
He was having nightmares and his fitful sleep was distracting. Again, I was with him in part because I seriously was concerned about him, his health, and his well-being. I had left my bed, changing out of a nightgown, to be with him, cook for him, take care of him.
Now, with him clearly having nightmares, I am holding him tightly and comforting him from one place in his dreams to another. He talks a little in his sleep, and I am not surprised he has bottles of prescription sleep aids in his cabinet. The next morning, I am awake, writing the first half of this as I hold his arms or as he is wrapped around me.
Around 930, I get up to answer a phone call. This wakes him enough that he gets up 5 minutes after I do to find me. He’s great, though. He goes back to sleep. I join him and he immediately hugs me to him. The second time I get up, I ask if I can borrow his laptop. He had actually left it at a friend’s house, so I was out of luck to edit the documents I needed to before my meeting.
I live exactly 8 minutes from his building, in a chic, downtown-adjacent neighborhood on a park. There is a bus that goes from his building to mine every hour or so. I wanted to stay with him as long as I could, so I waited until the last possible moment that would still enable me to get home before my call without having to grab a cab.
I finally got up, got myself together, and packed up my things. I was out of bed long enough I woke him again, and he came out to say goodbye before I sent him back to bed. He said, rather adorably, I’ll be in touch.
I didn’t speak to him again on Wednesday. I texted him on Thursday at 533 pm that if he he were awake and looking for something to do, I was with FM and my good friend SD, but they’ve hung out before together. He called me immediately. I couldn’t grab the call so we exchanged texts. He was at a restaurant I wanted to try, but I couldn’t make everyone else go. Instead I barhopped with FM, SD, and C, who was also there but I did not mention her. We made it to a place that everyone loves, and where I’ve been with BV, as a matter of fact. He gets delayed. Something happened at the restaurant so he says he is going ot come here directly, but I made him go home to change.
When he shows up to yet another restaurant, we’re squeezed into a booth. And we have a blast. He sits next to me and SD and hugs and kisses my cheek. FM and C are across from us. BV genuinely likes SD and he thinks he likes FM, but he gives him a hard time about the first time they’d met weeks ago. FM took it well. He stepped outside to smoke with C from time to time and then BV scooted to the other side to keep talking to SD.
One of the things I find so charming about BV is that he’s very physically affectionate with people, especially with guy friends. He embraced FM adorably, along with the manager of the restaurant, etc. He’s just adorable.
Another weird detail I need to remember. FM has been suffering from a malady for about a month. A weird rash. BV noticed it and the next thing I knew, BV had diagnosed it as a genetic thing people in his family also suffer from. Including him. I was rather stunned as I’ve never seen the signs of it, but BV mentioned he has a special regimen that keeps it at bay. Apparently, he drops $250/month for some european stuff. Interestingly, he said, to me, you’ve seen it in my bathroom, as though there could be any other interpretation other than that we’re together. I guess he just assumes all of my friends know we’re sleeping together, as that would make sense since we’ve hung out with each of them.
I keep forgetting that we’re in a relationship by this point.
BV mentioned to me quietly later that he’s still sticking to his plan. He wants me to know that status as much as he wanted me to know when he was not. He told me on our second date when he did, and he’s been completely open with me ever since. I like that he’s stopped. I didn’t really care either way, but I am glad. I had noticed when I was at his place that what had been so open and public was gone.
Later still, he posed for a photo with C that I pushed to a social media thing. He looks so handsome. I realized again when I was with him on Tuesday just how handsome he is. Looking at his face beneath me, pausing to kiss him and to look at him as he paused to look at me. This man’s face . . . so handsome. His personality . . . so over the top fun. My friends love him. Except C, who told him that she hates when he’s around because then he’s the center of attention. So very true. I know in the future I should stop putting them in the same place. She’s not cool about it. He’s so utterly charming, and she glitches in his presence because she is not the center of attention. Also, she probably has a crush on him.
Anyway, he needed to run an errand and said he’d rejoin in an hour. He doesn’t. I actually expected him to, but I realize I shouldn’t have. I hugged him, but I still hoped we’d hook back up, as I had intended to spend the night there before FM left in the morning and I’d be on full-time dog duty. We trade calls and messages. He asks if he can call me back at the time I was at his building, which I didn’t tell him. He didn’t. Ultimately, I grabbed a cab and went home. It was all fine. I didn’t mind going home, but I did realize that we need to actually agree on the whole staying over thing. I am rather confident that I would have been welcome had I been in his building, but we’re not there yet in my mind.
Still, things with him are very good, and very random.