I'm so sprung for that boy, it's not even funny. He spent the entire day here yesterday, and it was glorious. I actually put my phone on the nightstand Friday night, hoping for a late-night text, and I got one. 2:30 a.m., "Hey wake up i want to come over." Well, duh.
It was cold and halfway snowing and we spent the first hour talking about stuff and watching the snow. We looked up a Web site on Dante's Inferno. We watched part of No Country for Old Men on a site that was probably illegal. I showered. He showered. We went out for pancakes. We came back and napped on the bed. We tried to go to an art exhibit (closed). More talk. Scrabble (I won this time). Then he had to go home, because his dog had ben on his own for more than twelve hours, because H.M. was with me.
Glorious.
I'm so in love with him.
Pathetic.
He's not leaving before I move, now. He's backed it off. He commented that he can't wait to leave and that he kind of has to now since he's been slacking off and not going to work. I suggested that he not do that, that if he did go to work and play poker and save his money, it might feel more like he was preparing to leave on his own terms and not getting run out of town or running away. That's when he came up with his 30 day plan of taking every shift for a month starting Tuesday.
This, of course, pushed back his departure date, beyond the end of his lease. He asked if, in exchange for helping me move, he could crash at my place during that time. Of course, I had to say no.
Duh. Of course I said yes. Glorious, right? Love, right? We might be friends for those six days, or we might do that awkward "with benefits" thing, and it's going to be absolutely miserable when he goes, but I get him every night for six days and that's glorious.
Pathetic.
I mentioned our little fling in my session with Dr. H., and she seemed unconcerned. The question she always asks is if I feel bad about it, and I never do, but what if I expect to feel bad in the future? Not about the sex, but everything else; this one is going to end painfully, and I feel like I should disengage early to try and get it over with, but I can't, because I love him.
Now I know how he felt before I left on my trip and he was going to be coping on his own. I'm facing down the barrel of a life without Hot Mess in it for the first time in six months, and I'm petrified.
But he has to do this. If he doesn't, I'll be disappointed in him. He needs to do this for himself. But does it make me a bad person if I, knowing how much he hates this town, still hope he comes back here whenever he's done?
At least long enough to take me off with him.
Pathetic.
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