Ever since I broke up with him, Leo has been asking me out every couple of weeks.
“Hey Ann how about a drink after work on Wednesday?” he will text. I’ve consistently said no. I’ve even said (gently) that since we broke up, I wasn’t interested in continuing to date.
“It’s just as friends, Ann” he’d protest. “You have a friend for life.”
I know some of you convert boyfriends into friends, but I don’t. If we weren’t friends first, there’s not the basis of a friendship afterward. Not sure who said it first, but I believe “if two lovers remain friends, either they are still in love, or they never were.”
It’s a complicating factor when one person didn’t want the relationship to end. Perhaps when both people come to the same conclusion it can work, but that doesn’t happen with me. If I still wanted to be in a relationship, there’s no way I can be relegated to a friend. And when the reverse is true, I don’t like feeling pressure for potentially more.
Leo kept at it.
Then one night, he caught me in a particularly weak moment. He said it would just be a friend with benefits situation, and he knew I could use the stress release, via his hand and my Hitachi. I said okay and we agreed he would come to my place at midnight, after a party I was hosting wrapped up.
He showed up as my last guests were leaving. He helped me tidy a few things up, which I didn’t want. It felt too comfortable; too familiar.
The kisses were nice. We went to my bedroom and got undressed. He did his usual thing with his hands, working his way up to fisting, and it took me a while to get out of my head and focus on the sensation.
I didn’t really want to keep kissing him. I buried my head in his neck and closed my eyes and concentrated on the pleasure. My body didn’t let me down; it felt great. But it felt great despite who was providing it.
He slept over, naturally. It’s what friends with benefits do, in his opinion. And to be fair, he did show up at midnight. I wasn’t going to ask him to leave.
I got a few moments of comfort from having him in my bed – after all, it’s also those things that I miss. Having a nice furry warm body in my bed next to me, a shoulder nook to rest my head upon.
The next morning we had another session. I asked him to add the Hitachi, which he was happy to do, taking it out of my drawer and handing it to me. I could feel him using his other hand jerking off. Then he removed his hand and started to shift his considerable bulk.
“Oh god,” I thought, and he moved to position himself between my legs. It’s the only sexual position he can make work, it would seem. He’d gotten close to hard enough for penetrative sex. Saying no would have been a douchebaguette move (and thanks to Balletandboxing) for that term!).
Not long after, he came with the protracted shudder I thought was awesome when it happened to very first time. This time I was mildly repulsed. I didn’t want to have penetrative sex with him.
I didn’t want his semen inside me; something I normally love.
I had to stop myself from leaping from my bed right away to go to my bathroom. I waited as long as I could stand it.
It was a mistake to have him over. Before he left he told me he was going to come to the hospital the day of my surgery.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.” I said. “My Dad is driving in to be there for me that day and night.”
“Well, whose face do you want to see when you get out of surgery, Ann? Your Dad’s or mine?”
My inner voice said ummm my Dad’s… but I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to have him come to the hospital but he obviously didn’t understand that “you don’t have to do that” is polite code for “please don’t do that.”
He thankfully didn’t hang around too long.
The next day I sent a text that said: “I wanted to say again – I’d rather it just be my Dad at the hospital. I really appreciate your offer to be there but I’m not comfortable with that. You’d be more than welcome to stop by in the evening after I get home, if you like.”
He didn’t stop by, which was more than fine by me. He’s been nice to check in regularly, I sincerely appreciate that he cares.
But I don’t care to see him again, I don’t even find our conversations all that interesting. And I definitely don’t want any “benefits” he offers.