2:37 AM |
For coffee. In the daylight. My fantasies of wild, sweaty sex were dashed. I just wanted to have sex one more time before I died. I can't remember who the actual last one was, the one before my IBF, that is. I don't want it to be that way.
Like in any other conversation, there were things that stood out. His mother was still ruining it for everyone. His brother was a mess. He was the go-between, a position no son should be in. He moved out of the house he shared with his girlfriend while she was out. No notice. He is friends with all his exes. They were beautiful. He is accomplished. At what I do not yet know. He is an enigma, and I am only hearing excerpts of his life.
I couldn't read his body language. On the plane down I read an entire issue of Cosmo. Boy has it changed. In one of its tamest articles, there was discussion of the meaning of the way the man turns to, or away, from you, revealing his true feelings. He did neither.
He drove me home. The long way. I thought it was to have more time to talk, but I somehow think that it was to check out our winter home, to see if it measured up. He looked for it from the other side of the lake, from at least two vantage points. I didn't want him in for fear that my step-mother's, well, unusual way of organizing random crap on every horizontal surface would make him judge me as that kind of per on with that kind of taste.
Like in any other conversation, there were things that stood out. His mother was still ruining it for everyone. His brother was a mess. He was the go-between, a position no son should be in. He moved out of the house he shared with his girlfriend while she was out. No notice. He is friends with all his exes. They were beautiful. He is accomplished. At what I do not yet know. He is an enigma, and I am only hearing excerpts of his life.
I couldn't read his body language. On the plane down I read an entire issue of Cosmo. Boy has it changed. In one of its tamest articles, there was discussion of the meaning of the way the man turns to, or away, from you, revealing his true feelings. He did neither.
He drove me home. The long way. I thought it was to have more time to talk, but I somehow think that it was to check out our winter home, to see if it measured up. He looked for it from the other side of the lake, from at least two vantage points. I didn't want him in for fear that my step-mother's, well, unusual way of organizing random crap on every horizontal surface would make him judge me as that kind of per on with that kind of taste.