I had been warned in advance but it was still a rude awakening – literally – when Tony’s yelp of happiness at the right team scoring a goal jolted me awake.
It was only 7am.
While we crashed early the night before, I could have used a few more hours of rest. But I was unable to get back to sleep. I grabbed a sweater and padded downstairs, otherwise naked, to join him on the couch. It was the first football game (American translation: soccer) I watched with him. I curled up with my head on his chest and wrapped myself in a blanket.
We chatted here and there but mainly I just watched him watching the game. I could tell he was distracted – it was worse than the night before. I asked him if he was alright and he explained the fight with his ex was still weighing heavily. I knew more than to pry.
The last time I was over he was out of milk. He’s an espresso drinker (pet peeve alert – it’s eSpresso, not eXpresso). This time he had neither coffee nor milk. He recognized he was a terrible host but promised next time would be better.
The game ended and he was happy the right team won. He told me I should know where I stand with him (or some such phrase) given he was going to miss HIS team’s game to have breakfast with me. He’s a huge fan, so this is not done lightly.
When I insinuated I wanted sex before breakfast, he told me he was too tired but he promised me many orgasms before I went home that day. For a generally sweet and softspoken guy, the dominant side really does come out every so often. When we went upstairs to get dressed he kneeled on the bed and reached over to pull me to him. Change of heart – or cock – and I was certainly not going to complain!
He took me from behind and managed to come twice. He told me how sexy he thought I was, he loved that position and liked seeing my hands grabbing various parts of the bed, especially as I came.
We left his place and went for breakfast. Arriving before our restaurant of choice opened, we went nearby and had coffee. I forget now how it came up, but he said he wasn’t an open book. I retorted that not only was he not an open book, I would call him a closed book.
So he opened it for me.
I felt like I was in a forest with a deer. If I made any sudden movements, the animal would be spooked and run away. I nodded and listened and occasionally made some brief comments. But I just let him talk.
He told me about his relationship troubles. Being accused of having an affair because he had a close female friend who would do things his wife refused to do – like go to sports events. That his wife wasn’t fun. She was the person telling him he had to leave the party early, even way back when they were in their 20s.
He told me she yelled at him the day before that he had to get his life in order, among other things. She didn’t listen to him yet complained he didn’t tell her about what was going on.
He needs time to think, time to figure out what it is that he wants. That for so long it’s been about what they wanted. He doesn’t know what he wants to do. Doesn’t know what to do about some things regarding the job choices he has. He needs time to just travel and get his head in order.
He told me he misses his son terribly. That it breaks his heart when he asks “why aren’t you staying at our house, Daddy?” when he leaves. That he misses the family unit, spending time together as a family. But when it’s just the two of them – his ex and him – it’s bad.
I thanked him for trusting me and for opening up to me.
Over food I asked him if he missed her or the family construct (one being specific to a person, the other being about the relationship). He said it was the latter, it wasn’t that he wanted to be with his ex again.
I told him he could have that again. That my comment wasn’t about me specifically, but he could have those things he wanted. Someone fun, who he could do things with, and integrate into his relationship with his son. He looked at me like he hadn’t considered it before.
A long time ago I wrote about the change curve. It was in relation to my breakup with Johnny Id. But reality is it applies to any change. Perhaps I should share it with him. He’s not on the other side yet, he doesn’t know what’s possible and that he can get the life he wants.
He drove me home. We joked that this was a date fail – we were super tired and he wasn’t in a good place. Then we realized it was all relative, and he said “I still saw rainbows and unicorns”.
We cuddled in my bed before he had to go. Our conversation got rather steamy and we kissed and he masturbated, promising me he would try to not do it as much and see what happens. He’s not on a project this week so he’s hoping he can come visit one night. I’m supposed to see him again on Friday night for a date. I’m taking him to the Symphony the following Wednesday – and – the best thing? He may come with me for a few nights to a friends country place, with children in tow. Perhaps an opportunity for some Cialis action?
My window into his mind and his conflicts just reinforces what I’ve known since our first date. We are definitely not in the same place. But perhaps that’s okay. Perhaps I just need to give him some time, which I can also use to gauge our compatibility. Or perhaps he just likes me because I’ve made things simple for him – I’m a good companion and will fuck him when he wants, I don’t demand much of him, and at some point he will move on.
I have no way to know. But I’m trying to not overthink it.