We will call this date 4.
It is not.
It is an hour and a half of sex with a little conversation here and there.
We had set up days ago that this would happen today or tomorrow. My primary housemate is on vacation, which means it’s me and the pack of dogs, but unlikely anyone else is around.
Except, today, of course there were other people around.
The Writer showed up a little after noon looking very hot and very hip.
He sort of looks like a music critic in his late 30s: hip, but not overly. Every detail managed. He is sexy more than he is handsome — which is a significant change for me. I am entirely attracted to him and he has this weird control over me that I have willingly given to him. He has done the same with me. We are deeply living inside each other’s heads.
I have deliberately given him control over some things about our encounters, our relationship, because I want him to manage it.
I remind myself always that he is married because it would be too easy to think this is a real relationship.
For now, it is because he is real and I am real but we are both always keenly aware that he is married.
And, this is not an affair.
But, still, married.
So, he comes over and kisses me down the hall and pushes me on the bed and kneels at the foot of the bed and does amazing things before his clothes are off.
The sex is — as always — remarkably great. Like everything about what and how we do what we do just works. The sex is over rather quickly . . . we had a particular thing we wanted to do — I’d even had an associated errand the day before to prepare . . . and I knew it would be over fast. He loved it, I knew he would. It took trust. We could have amazing sex because we trust each other.
We are becoming comfortable together, though we know these in particular are stolen moments. We have this need to be together, so a Monday at lunch felt like a perfect chance.
We are going to jump ahead a few days. Five days to be exact. It’s a Friday night. It’s been only two weeks since I’ve met the Writer, though we had been talking and exchanging email and texts for two weeks before that.
It has been intense.
Monday, we have sex, which is amazing.
I tell him after via text that “Someday, we should actually complete a conversation. I think I started to tell you 17 things and finished … none.”
“Yeah well//we are both world class talkers//it would take a long time”
Later on that evening, I was feeling morose. We had this weird talk on the previous Friday night, and he made me feel a little self conscious about something — a scar — I didn’t normally think about.
I knew he didn’t mean anything about it. His asking about it was actually a testament to the fact he thinks I am so beautiful that a thing like that makes me even more attractive and to his confidence in the strength of our connection.
But, it has made me self conscious about something I never thought about and that no one ever mentioned to me. And, I also wanted to hurt him. I have pms, I guess, but I knew it bringing this up to him — which was a big deal — would hurt him. And I was glad. The conversation happened so very quickly that our responses overlapped as he rushed to reassure me that he thinks I am beautiful and that he thinks he’s a doofus.
He is, rather surprisingly, extremely sensitive to my needs and very emotionally supportive, so this is an area sensitive to us both. I could have kept my mouth shut, but I am now dedicated to NOT SETTLING and not remaining silent when I am hurt. Rather than simply absorb the blow and move on, I called him out on it and told him that’s something that hurt me, made me feel self-conscious, and not something we should never talk about again.
Dear Readers, this is GROWTH.
And, despite the temporary nature, this is an exceptionally healthy relationship for me.
Him: hi there 8:38 PM