I slept well, until I woke up. At six-fucking-thirty. Andrew was fast sleep in my bed, not stirring. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I checked my phone. I contemplated getting up and writing in bed, since my head was swirling with the thoughts I wrote about in Part One.
At 7:30, he stirred and asked how long I’d been up. I told him an hour. He went back to sleep. I finally managed to stop the brain train and fell asleep for fifteen minutes.
We both woke up shortly after. I waited to see if he would pull me into him, like he has all the times previous. I simultaneously hated that I was now playing a game. He did, of course; wrapping one arm around me with a firm hand on my breast.
Carefully avoiding the torture of morning breath, he rolled on top of me – this time, no issues getting hard – and we had some great sex, for about 15 minutes. I got on top of him in the attempt to have one of those awesome, full-body orgasms I know I’m capable of. In my bed, with him, alone in my house, I knew that I would be able to.
He stopped before it happened. He knew I was frustrated – even commenting that he supposed I was near the peak but unable to get over it. My natural question – which I stifled – was “then why won’t you help me get there?”. He said he was still preoccupied.
He wanted coffee.
While we had some good naked chatting in my bed, coffee in hand, there was no more sex to be had. I even asked him whether he was often preoccupied, adding I found it unusual he couldn’t get out of his head, given his sexual appetite. He said no, it wasn’t that unusual. He also hypothesized that perhaps the inability to focus could be due to the ADHD meds he takes, which last for about 12 hours each day (yes, Dawn D, I know I’m not being precise here).
I said “well, I guess then I shouldn’t take it personally?” and he looked at me like I was crazy and said “of course not; why would you?”… and I explained that I hoped to be captivating enough to make someone forget their troubles. I don’t remember what he said after that, but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
He had to leave for an appointment with a client.
After wandering around my place aimlessly for a bit, thinking about him and how I was feeling (bad), I had the full realization of our conversation in the grocery store last night. It occurred to me he thought I might be fishing for information – which I wasn’t.
So after some deliberation, I sent him the following text:
“I want to apologise for something I said in the grocery store – about male desire / not having sex for 8 days, etc. I realised it was a stupid thing to say because you may have thought I was fishing for info – which I wasn’t. When you didn’t respond I had an “oh, right” moment. Anyway, so sorry about that”.
Of course, there was a part of me hoping he would say something like “don’t be silly I was just distracted…I’ve only been with you”. Foolish, I know.
What I got was probably the worst (other than “oh well yeah it’s because I’d just fucked her and was still on a high”):
I contemplated my response. I admit it was snarky, but I have my weak moments. I said: “Well good to know my gut doesn’t let me down.”
This was 12:34pm.
And there we have it. No response from him (even as of 8pm), which isn’t that unusual.
Here’s the thing. If the sex was mind-blowing, if I could get him hard with a touch (which he showed me I could before, to be fair), if he seemed to want nothing but me when he saw me, if we had fucked for hours, if he had finished me off with his hands, or a toy, I would be okay. Because it would matter less about that other woman, then. She would be irrelevant sexually as well as for our budding relationship.
But with what happened last night and this morning, I can’t help but feel like I’m not special. I’m not enough to captivate him, to make him want me more than anything – or at least more than sleep and more than coffee. Perhaps it was because of her. Perhaps he was just having a bad day. Perhaps he was just distracted. But dammit, I want to feel adored. I want to feel wanted.
Scratch that – I NEED it.
I am the definition of needy. The very thing I can’t stand. It makes me crazy – literally. I can’t help but think I will push him away with this, but at the same time, if he’s not wild about me now…it’s only been a few weeks…what the hell would it be like in a year?
It has been several hours since I first drafted this post. It has subsequently occurred to me that perhaps the way he is showing I’m special is by giving me his time and his conversation. He told me a couple of weeks ago that he doesn’t converse with his FWB…there are no long discussions over dinner. No hanging out on the couch over a glass of wine. So it’s possible, I suppose, that the fact we didn’t fuck for hours is irrelevant to him – because that in itself is not the meaningful part.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to play games, but I fear being open about this will make me sound insane. I think it best to not communicate now, and let him come to me. But that’s the worst part for me; hoping it’s an hour but fearing it will be a week.
Time will tell, if I let it.