A Long, Brief Love Affair

It began how things begin and ended how things end. Not sure about either.

I haven’t really mentioned anything about him to anyone because it was supposed to be your clichéd “friends with benefits.” But then, when does that really work?

If you’re good friends with me, I don’t feel like talking about this, so don’t ask. No matter how good of a friend you are. I want this brief love affair to end here. I always drag these things out being the masochist that I am. I think as I’ve gotten older, these situations have gotten older too. I’m reaching a point where I can almost shrug them off.

So here’s my shrug:

When I met him, I knew he’d recently gotten out of a long-term relationship. How many doomed relationships start with that line?! But, I kinda’ thought he wasn’t my type, so I was in the clear. On our first “date” so to speak, we hung out on my floor, my actual carpeted floor.

We didn’t try to sell ourselves like people do when they’re developing a potentially real relationship. You know, talking about your families and hopes and dreams and all that fucking cheesey shit that we talk about to “connect” with someone else.

He went through my bookshelf and knew my psycho authors/scholars, such as Dawkins, which then led to a conversation about propagation, which many of you know I’m insane about. (for you dirty-minds out there, I don't mean the act). Normally, I’d think a first encounter would make me gag if we discussed poetry, but I have so much on my shelf. He even read a poem by one of my favorite poets. And it didn’t feel forced and make me want to stick my tongue out and my finger down my throat. It oddly was all so natural.

The conversation flowed. The focus soon turned to my iPod that I’d been playing in the background. While in my supine position, he rested his head on my stomach, and we listened to songs from beginning to end. I played with his hair. We changed positions and kissed and played with each other’s finger tips.

As if the night couldn’t be anymore perfect, what does he say?!?!?!??!?!?

“I want to give you an orgasm.”

What the fuck?!?!? And those Miss Curious eyes instantly widened.

I didn’t really know what to say.

“Um, well, I’m not prepared to return the favor,” I so selfishly replied.

I didn’t feel like having that intimacy with his nether-regions. While I really liked him, it wasn’t a “dick in my mouth” like quite yet.

Being um, awesome, he said he didn’t care. Kept his clothes on and went to town.

This was then followed by a massage. Seriously.

Sublimely happy, we lied on our sides with our heads resting on our hands as we stared at each other. It was almost 2 am on a Monday night. Our eyes were practically closed, but he didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want him to leave.

I knew I needed some sleep, so he headed out. When I closed the door behind him, I looked through the peephole as he walked down the hallway. I had a giddy smile on my face.

The next afternoon he texted me, and we both gushed about our wonderful evening together.

The next night he asked to come over and watch a movie. We actually watched the movie from beginning to end until we touched each other any more than our elbows rubbing up against each other.

One day break from communication.

Didn’t last long. As soon as he got back from his weekend he texted, “just walked in the door, want to hang out?”

Certainly wasn’t playing hard to get.

I made him play a board game with me as we drank beer and both bobbed our heads to my tunes. He was pretty cute about it. I would look down at my cards and smirk, a mirthful smirk. Finally, on this third “date”, the intimacies were reciprocated (do note: no sex). Before that night, I hadn’t even touched his stuff.

Then, two weeks went by with only two texts. He was out of town for a week.

The day after he got back, he wanted to hang out.

Again, not playing hard to get.

This night was filled with the same vigor as the first night. He had me watch Obama’s DNC speech during the Kerry campaign. As we sat at my desk in front of my laptop, we held hands.

He looked at me. I mean he really looked at me. He looked at me so intensely that I had to look away. Before he left he hugged me, a prolonged hug. And then, he hugged me again, another prolonged hug. He massaged my shoulders on the way out.

The ensuing week consisted of missed connections. I was a bit busy and didn’t text when I said I would. I was just starting to genuinely like him and felt that what began as casual wasn’t so casual anymore. I then needed to separate it for a second.

But then, I texted him a week ago about hanging out. He said he’d get back to me.

And then, I haven’t heard from him since.

Here I thought his feelings were more intense than my own. Apparently, I was so-so wrong. He just completely switched off. I don’t understand how I could have been so wrong. I don’t understand. I don’t understand at all. Not at all.