I called him yesterday, he called me back, I left a return message about possibly getting together so I can give him this stuff I have for him and didn’t hear back.
Legitimately he is really busy with work because of some extraordinary opportunity, so I phoned him to check and see if it was possible. Not tonight he said, okay. I am okay with that, right? We broke up a little over a week ago. He said he was even working on Saturday to try to stay on top of the work so maybe we could arrange a little rendezvous on Saturday — he said he’d call and if it worked with my schedule we’d get it done. Alrighty. Conversation over.
And I’m sad. Am I really? Yes and no. I imagined he would call and I would get to see him briefly to give him what I have and get a really great hug and give him a mind-blowing last kiss that might possibly turn into something that involved taking our clothes off. Not sex, mind you, because we never had SEX but we managed to make each other happy, naked, with no sex. (Geez, I sound like Clinton). And that’s what I wanted.
Now he’s put me off until Saturday, possibly, and because I truly do know this man my chances of being naked in his presence are probably slim. But I’m still going to hold onto my fantasy.
Truth be told if I had known he was going to end it last Tuesday I would have kissed him hard when I saw him and taken his clothes off without question — but I didn’t know so instead I just stayed pissed off. I think that’s my problem. I hate that I was pissed over stupid shit when he broke up with me. It wouldn’t have made it any better if I hadn’t been pissed, but I would like to think that I would have reacted differently. . . maybe.
Who knows. I just know that I’ve said no dating for a year, and I’ve already gone over two years with no sex. UGH, is sex the end all, no, but DAMN.