Before I fell asleep, stoned and happy from orgasms, but also frustrated, I got a bit sucky.
Before I could stop myself I blurted out “are you my boyfriend?”
There was a moment of silence that playwrites would call a “beat”.
Backed into a corner, Tony’s first response was “I’m not sure, I suppose so?”
That wasn’t exactly the overwhelmingly positive response I was looking for. I also realized, even stoned, it was a very dumb question. So I tried to verbally back off a bit, explaining a friend had asked me and I didn’t know how to respond; didn’t know if he thought of himself that way.
He said he didn’t like labels. He found they complicated things.
I retorted that they only complicated things when expectations or definitions were different.
Then he said “but we are doing okay, aren’t we?”
It wasn’t the first time he asked me that. Of course we are, I told him. And I let it go.
But I haven’t let it go. Not because I don’t think he likes me, wants to be exclusive, and wants to spend time with me. But because it’s a sign of where his head is at. He’s not ready. I am. I am trying to let things be.
With very limited success.