Sunday . . .

The next morning is Sunday and we sleep in. In fact, as we wake up, we lazily have sex a couple of times in between falling back asleep.  We’re very cuddly and it’s awesome.

When it’s finally time to get up, we’re both starving and decide to have brunch before I head home. We walk to his favorite restaurant, two blocks from his building, still in the fashion district, and we are both amazed I’ve never been as he goes there all the time and it’s next to the Chic Hotel.

As we walk, he asks me to call SD and see if he’ll join us for brunch. Well, first he calls SD, who doesn’t answer. 😉 Then I get him. He says he’ll come.

When we walk in, they greet BV warmly and I fall in love with this place. It’s everything I love in a restaurant: chic styling, great food, friendly staff, excellent bar. Also, $1 mimosas. We sit at the bar and it is clear that they love BV here.

When SD shows up, he chuckles a little, as I am wearing the same dress as I was wearing when I saw him 12 hours ago. BV and SD talk a lot of football, a lot of trash, and have a great time.

After a couple of hours, SD wanders off to hit a pool party and then get work done and BV and I decide to go to a vintage movie showing at a downtown movie theater. We book seats in the balcony, which means we have two leather recliners that extend fully and service at our seats.

Again, we arrive and everyone who sees BV greets him warmly, which is the sign of a man who goes out a lot and drops a lot of cash. He also intros me to everyone.

He orders for us two rounds of shots, a bucket of beer, and I get a popcorn. The movie is awesome and we’re having a great time.

We are also now really and truly hammered. Mid afternoon. On a Sunday. Of a three day weekend, but still.

After the movie, we wander into a random bar that has beer pong. Which I have never played. BV and I are hyper-competitive, especially when we’re terrible at something. And we are terrible at beer pong. We lose badly to another couple, but we are having a blast.

We continue our walk west and stop . . . it turns out . . . at the upscale sports bar where I lost him on Friday.

[We have no recollection of being there. I have the memory of our bartendrix and my credit card charge.]

The next thing we really remember is sitting at home on his sofa, figuring out what we want to eat. It is after 8 pm. He says, hey call SD. So I do and SD says, yeah your roomie [FM] and your dog are here and we’re watching movies. Come over.

It’s about 6 blocks to SD’s building from BV’s. We are really intoxicated, but the walk up is fun and we’re really enjoying our long, random day together.

Seeing FM and the dog at SD’s was such a treat. It turns out that the ac unit broke early Sunday morning and they were going to spend the night there. BV plops down on the love seat next to FM and the dog, while SD and I share the sofa.

The dog loves BV. In fact, the dog loves BV so much he doesn’t come and hang out with me. He sits with on the sofa getting lots of fab petting.

BV, it turns out, loves the dog, too. Why this makes me ridiculously happy, I am not entirely sure, but I love glancing over and seeing my sweetheart loving the dog. It does suggest that assuming we stay together when he’s back, the dog might be in our life together when FM travels.

We watch a silly movie, drink more beer, and laugh our asses off. We’re all super-chilled out as we’ve all been day drinking. BV smokes some of FM’s weed.

[FM mentions to me days later: your boy kept touching my arm when he was talking to me. He wasn’t hitting on me . . . and I am not saying he’s gay, but he definitely has sex with dudes. Heh.]

It’s a comfortable, lovely evening, and BV is seeing me with two of my best guy friends doing a lot of what we end up doing before we hit the town.  I have spent a lot of time at SD’s and it’s our home away from home and downtown refuge.

Once the movie ends, BV and I know we have to find food. We leave the boys behind and head back to BV’s building. Randomly, BV walks us down an alley and ignores my request that we stop for pizza en route. Block after block we walk between buildings until, all of a                                                                         sudden, our path is blocked by a semi-tractor trailer being unloaded.  It blocks our entire path.

As I start to back up to walk the half block back, BV says, let’s go under.  And we do.  We walk under the trailer.

It is among the dumber things I have done, and entirely exhilarating.  We high-five when we’re done.  We laugh the rest of the way back to his building.

When we get back upstairs, we are starving and I decide I will cook as he has a freezer full of stuff.  We start with chinese from a frozen pf changs garlic chicken noodle one-skillet thing.  I think we are drinking beer, but I don’t remember.  It serves 2-3, and I give him the bulk of the food as it’s not really stuff I eat.  I eat the chicken and vegetables.

When we finish, he’s still hungry.  I love how much he’s eating because he used to not eat anything.  He decides he wants meatballs in marinara, except he only has tomato soup, so he creates this soup sauce grabbing random herbs and spices from the pantry.  It turns out remarkably well.  We are in the kitchen laughing uproariously as our cooking adventures continue.  I have rarely felt as couplely with him as I have felt all day long.

It had not been a question since brunch that I would be staying — though we never discussed it — and I long ago had grabbed a tshirt and a pair of holiday boxers from his dresser.  For the life of me, I have no idea what we were watching on tv, though I know it was on.

Maybe an hour later he decides he wants steak.  Which he starts to defrost in its package. I grab it and put it on a plate and start over.  He cooks the steak all on his own, although I am keeping an eye on him.

We had done a little of the party drug post-sports bar and we’re much more functional than we should be given the amount we had been drinking.  I do not match him drink for drink, but I am holding my own.

I was sitting on the love seat as he laid on the sofa when he gave me his typical sex line: “c0me over here and let’s have sex.” I laughed.  He said, “um, why aren’t you here right now having sex with me?” I laughed again, but complied.  I don’t remember the sex entirely, but I do remember one important thing: he didn’t pull out.  Which is okay as I am not ovulating at the moment, expecting my period any day.  But then he said something that I find rather disturbing.  He said, well, I usually pull out.

“Usually” does not mean “always.”  Always is what I had assumed.

Anyway, we have drunken sex and then go to bed.  Well, I go to bed.

I leave him on the sofa, watching whatever we were watching and I go to bed.  In the middle of the night — 5ish, 6ish — I wake up and he’s asleep on the sofa, so I wake him to come to bed.

As he does, he says, “okay, tomorrow is Monday, and I will need your help packing . . .”

Yep, there’s that.