My relationship with BV is neverending, and unfulfilling at the moment, as we circle each other, growing closer and yet further all the time.

Since we split up — in my mind, apparently — we have reconciled to a degree and have had wonderful times together that always end poorly.

Always.

It’s him and not him.  He has not adjusted to his brain with alcohol and without drugs.  It’s made him awful at times and it’s made him prone to wandering off into the night.  Often.  He doesn’t know he’s doing it, and doesn’t remember he’s left me.

I have recounted the madness in unfinished draft posts, in unsent emails to him, in sadness I’ve felt.

I feel separated from him at the moment because we’ve not had sex since he’s been back from his trip . . . just last week.  Yeah, this is why I keep this journal. I have been freaking out and it’s been a week.

I spent the night with him just last Tuesday, laying in his arms on the sofa for hours, wiping his tears away as he was moved by a particular scene of a documentary we watched. On Wednesday, I spent all day with him, we got exercise in, and we had important conversations and drunken adventures, and then he wandered off.

He reached out the next day to check in.

We bumped into each other on the sidewalk downtown on Friday afternoon, where he was charming to the Tattooed Brunette and then kissed me goodbye on the lips and made vague plans to meet up later.  We touched base on Saturday, joking about our separate plans at music shows, and then we actually spent hours together on Sunday, with more adventures, more abandonment.

We postponed our plans to see a movie Monday as he was still ailing, but he was feeling better on Tuesday, which is when we sort of made plans maybe with Software Developer, who I was meeting for dinner and drinks to celebrate my smart (finally) decision.  He bailed on us, never really committed though we kept him in the loop.

And then I saw him, at about midnight, walking past the bar where I was sitting.  I got up and walked out so he passed just as I stepped onto the step.  He saw me and stopped and extended his hand. I hugged and kissed him on the lips.  I had already figured out who he was with and what he was doing.  I recognized immediately who the man with him must be, especially when I invited him in to say hello and he quickly declined saying he’d call me.

He did not.

It was fine.

It is fine.  We are closer than we’ve ever been, spending quality time together, inviting each other to important things with our friends.  He is excited to do something for my birthday (next week) and we are publicly affectionate, and yet, I am feeling very separate from him because we’re not having sex.  He’s ailing, he’s drinking too much, but still, the lack of sex is currently in my head because it’s the signal I have that I am single.

The Software Developer was sitting next to me at the bar and talked to me and the cute female bartender about BV.  To the best of my memory, this is what he said to the bartender: “[Planner]’s boyfriend is this great guy . . . he’s super-fun and awesome, until he just disappears.”  Bartender: “he what?!”

Yeah.

That.

SD, who loves me and is one of my very best friends, gave me some incredibly insightful advice.  He talked to me about Robert McNamara and “the fog of war.”  He said that, in war, you are making perfectly reasonable decisions, but when you take a step back and look at the entirety of your situation, you realize the depth of the bad decisions you’re actually making.

He asked me to do one thing very specific: pick an actual number that is my limit on BV’s bad behavior.  How many more times will I tolerate him becoming blackout and leaving.  Pick a number and then, when/if he hits it, we’re actually done.

He genuinely likes BV, but he worries.

RA, my darling girlfriend who listens to me without judgement, also worries.

RA: it’s not that i don’t like [BV], i could honestly care less about him since i don’t know him, what i worry about is how he changes your perception of normal
  that’s all
4:01 PM but i don’t worry about you
  just the strength of the vacuum that your in
 me: That’s all very fair. And very generous of you.
She is right. The concern is that being with Bon Vivant makes me think things are normal that are not normal.  And, it does.  I have to remind myself that his drug use is unusual.  I have spent years of my life around hardcore, yet functional, drug use thanks to my work.  BV’s use is rather compulsive, but did not seem particularly harmful.  Until he freaked out.
When he quit, he kept drinking, which made him monstrous or had his blackout brain walking him out of places, leaving me behind.
I am giving him the space to work this out without breaking up with him at the moment.  But I am more distant from him.  I am spending more time with him, seeing him more, seeing him more clearly.
His charms are not so charming.
Still, I do love him, and he does love me.
I am figuring out just how much longer I will stay with him, how many more times I will tolerate some of his worst behaviors.  For now, I am letting him get balanced and I am not walking away.  Yet.
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