I finally had a conversation with the Tattooed Brunette about Friday night with PR. She wad there — and more sober than I — so she filled in some of the gaps.

She really likes PR. She found him funny, charming and generous.

Apparently, he bought A LOT of alcohol for us.

She had no idea I was blackout. We were having fun and I was being huggy and effusive with her. We went to the Ladies together and I told her how much I liked PR.

She asked me about the show, and confirmed he’d put me on the guestlist. I laughed, and said, no, BandMate did.  Apparently, he kept telling me he’d put me on the guestlist for his show.  I knew he’d forget.

She said we were both drunk, but not dangerous and she only left because she knew I was with PR and safe.

She assured me that the only inappropriate thing I did was reaching my hand into her glass of bourbon rocks when I dropped something in her glass.  I’d been eating spicy edamame, which added interesting flavor.

She is awesome.

She was surprised when FM texted her the next morning to say I had neither made it home nor checked in.  She assured him I was with PR, but she was a little concerned, too.

We talked — along with two other friends of hers, who thought my tale was hilarious (because it is) and that he is really attractive (well, he is to me, but he has these super intense eyes that just bore through a you in life or in a photo) — about whether or not I tell him I was blackout.  We all agreed . . . no.  He’d feel horrible about it.  Nothing would be gained.

I also showed them a picture of the BV — “wow! handsome!” followed by “I like PR better.”

Yeah, so do I.  And always have.

PR and I texted on Tuesday night.  I was out with C, tasting, and then drinking wine.  I shot him a message about whether he wanted me to make a rez at the Chef’s restaurant. (They don’t take reservations, but the Chef’s my friend and we were supposed to have drinks the next night.)  He responded back right away that he hadn’t checked with BandMate and that “work is a tornado right now.”  We sent another message each and I didn’t respond back again to his last text.  I am trying hard to keep things casual, I am trying hard to just be like, yeah, whatever because when we’re actually together, it gets intense.  We know this.  It’s always been this way.

TB described my relationship with PR as “on and off” to her friends, which I disputed as “we stopped seeing each other in Mid-March . . . but we hang out every time we see each other . . . and we have been making out with each other every time we see each other since he hit on me at PRX’s farewell party in August.”

Yeah . . . 

I know it sounds bad, but their relationship was open and she only became my friend to keep us apart.  Which she did successfully for nearly two months.

So, I don’t consider us “on and off,” I consider us done, but still interested.

The only difference on Friday is that we sort of had a date, we had a lot of witnesses to our normal behavior, and we actually had sex.  Apparently.

“On and off” to me implies a lot of drama and reconciliations and breakups.  We just like each other from afar, kiss passionately, discuss without ever saying the words the reasons why we need to “be good,” and then end up alone at home.

After Friday and Saturday, we are not back on any more than we were off before.  We are bobbing along, focused on work and activities and the next two weeks of parties and social nonsense that will pull us together and rip us apart, if last year is any indication.  We ended things last year at this time, although not officially.  That came a few weeks later.  This time last year (or within the next two weeks last year), we had a great time, he was his normal self, he glued himself to me, made sure I knew that the woman friend with him was gay and “not a threat to you” and he introduced me to a musician he admired by the wrong name [referring to me as that female friend] to his continued shame and apologies.

We made plans, but I left to entertain clients and then he and his friends hung out with the famous interloper we had both met the week before at a party we co-hosted at his office  (well, he hosted, I invited all the guests who were not his employees).  It was open and that was fine, but she used her access to us and our friends to hurt me specifically, to stake a claim to him, to make it all public and nasty.

As a result, I allowed myself to suffer the public humiliation of publicly and openly maintaining our friendship.  And he continued to glue himself to my hip, enjoy our friendship, and ignore his friends to hang out with me, slowly integrating me deeper into their world.  Then he and PRX started seeing each other openly and she told him we were friends and we stopped speaking.

When I saw him at her farewell party, he didn’t speak to me.  He walked past me without acknowledging me along with PR, Jr. and the friend who was with us on Friday.  As I fled the venue with HB and C in tow, we had to pass them and I greeted all of them, and he was warm and affectionate and then later hit on me in front of her and talked to me with his arm wrapped around my waist.

From that time, whether she was there at my birthday party, or after she had moved, he glued himself to me.

Long way of saying, we’re never “on and off.”  TB and today RA described us as “never really done.”

RA asked me if I wanted to see him again, to actually date him, and the fact is that I do.  I would want to date him again.  I loved dating him.  I loved how public and possessive he was.  I loved sleeping with him.  I loved having sex with him.

But, I did not handle it well the first go-round.  I was sort of obsessed with the age difference between us.  He is seven years my junior.  That feels like a huge deal.

Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.

He’s always known I was older.  We dated anyway.  The famous interloper is like two years younger than I am.  (PRX is in her 20s.)

And I was convinced he was a playboy, so I sort of rejected him when he made a relationshipish overture.

In short, I was an idiot.  In a lot of ways.

So, I am giving him space, while communicating with him regularly.

I saw his car from across the parking garage when Hot Blonde and I went to the market — where I also saw BandMate and I believe the girl who the Bon Vivant was on a date with when I bumped into him.  It’s where we all go all the time.  In fact, I was there twice today — once for lunch with RA and to keep HB company while she had dinner.

His car is recognizable and the timing was right.  As I said, we are all there all the time.

HB had dinner while she caught me up on the goings on — she and the Chef are now dating, although I elided over the fact I’d gone out on a date with him before she had.  I did tell her I’d encouraged him to date her and that I thought they were a great match.  (They are.)  I told her about PR, BV, and the man I described as “the love of my life,” LP, about whom I’d never told her.  So funny.

When I got home (after picking up a few additional groceries), I noted that PR had posted a photo of something I’ve been working on as a cooking project, which I messaged him to say.  I had finished the second half of my lunch and was having a great glass of wine.  He replied back with tips, unasked, but subtext of course.

There is presence, but distance.  He is replying back to everything I send to him, immediately, but we’re respecting each other’s space.  It’s nice, actually.  He’s not flirting with me, nor I with him, but we’re present.  Of course, I may be overly sensitive.  (Shocking!)

Perhaps we are finding firmer footing on a friends with benefits thing.  Or we are just doing the thing we always do, maintain a connection and then connect when we are in the same space.  We will see if anything happens this weekend.  Likely, nothing will.  I have plans to be out on Saturday.  I am not going out tomorrow.  I’ve been out every single this week and I am exhausted.  I am also spending too much money.  WAY too much money.

On the positive, I may be on the cusp of a changing economic circumstance.  I will know more tomorrow, but I have an offer I am pondering from BP.  That’s why I am comfortable buying food, or having a $13 2 meal-lunch at the market.  I will see if he comes through.  He seems quite serious about it, so we shall see.

I got to see my four best girlfriends over the past three days: C for wine and nonsense on Tuesday, TB for dinner and girl talk last night at a hipster place, RA for a late lunch at the market and then espresso at the restaurant where I had my birthday, and HB for quality time as she ate.  They are great girls, and I am lucky to have them in my life.

They were appalled — and yet not surprised — that I slept with PR.  We have for them been “on and off” and the chemistry between us and our open demonstration of it has always been out there.  They’ve seen us kiss in public.  They know.

That we have always liked each other is why C implored me to give online dating another shot, saying she’d never talk to me again if we got back together.  (He was dating PRX at the time.)  When I told her on Tuesday, I told her I understood that she was angry.  She said, well, I am disappointed because he’s not good enough for you, but how can I be mad at something you already did?

RA was supportive, as was TB, because they both understand.  TB has hung out with us more recently than the other two — in November and last weekend.  She has seen the interaction and she gets it.  RA knows me, knows PR, and knows we really like each other.

I have no idea what will happen from here on out.  I still feel like we were on a great path on Friday . . . until we slept together.  Now, I am a bit uncertain.  But, PR has been responsive and great and I am just going to monitor without any action.  I will see him next week at an event and the week after at a different event, plus perhaps many, many other times depending upon how the things develop.  It’s work for both of us, with lots of social obligations, but we will see each other.

And by mid-March, we should have more clarity.

I am still dating other people — M, LP, N, and other men who are trying to get on my schedule.  I am not sleeping with any of them.  I am, thanks to what I can only presume is unprotected sex, crossing my fingers that everything is okay.  It is certainly possible — although highly, highly unlikely — that it is not.

My girlfriends are all aware, and we discussed options.  It’s highly, highly unlikely, as I said, but I am keeping an eye on things.  Regardless, I would still be waiting for a few weeks before sleeping with anyone else.  That’s my thing, I wait.  There is no rush, no urgency.

It’s great to have such a good group of friends, especially when I have done something that shakes up our world, just a little.

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