He sent me an email a little over a week ago with pictures of his, um, you know. It appeared to be happy and excited. I’d never gotten pictures like that before. Ever.
They weren’t offensive, although if he had asked me before he sent them I probably would have said “spare me.” But he didn’t ask. There were four photos and a quick little note about how he missed me and hoped I could literally “fit him in” soon.
I wouldn’t say it was charming, but the young one has a hot and hard body and it was a little erotic. I surprised myself by admitting I liked it. The pictures actually made me look closely at my calendar and see when I could fit him in.
My weekend was jacked up with prior commitments, not the least of which was to run 20 miles on Saturday morning. So for sure he wasn’t going to spend the night at my place because I couldn’t have him messing up my plans. I told him this when we talked and he suggested I come over to his house after work on Friday. It takes me about ten minutes to get to his place from work so it seemed like a reasonable idea. I said yes.
He lives in the Ladds Addition area of SE Portland. It’s a lovely area, and it’s easy to get to but the streets are at an odd angle and I learned on Friday that one wrong move can cause you to be so turned around you’ll be lost for hours. I wasn’t lost for hours but I was lost for a good fifteen minutes. What should have taken 10 minutes, took half an hour. But I got there and he was like a little kid so happy to see me.
The joy of the young one is the simplicity of the relationship we have. It’s about sex. Nothing more. Conversation is required, but depth certainly isn’t. He told me he missed me and was happy to see me, I think I said something similar and the conversation was over. Conversation was not the point of my visit. Sex was.
Awesome, amazing, wonderful sex. It was all of that. When it was over we talked for probably 30 minutes. We are friends, after all, and I do care about what’s going on with him. He mentioned he was thinking about moving back to Minnesota. That’s when the beauty of this relationship we have really hit me. My response was “that’s great!” And I meant it!
He’s been kind of hating Portland for a variety of reasons, none of which I can relate to, but I feel for him and believe he might be happier going back to Minnesota. How fabulous it was to realize that while I love the sex with this man and enjoy getting to know him and being friends, I have no attachment issues with him. He can go and while I may miss him for a minute, it won’t affect me. That was a cool realization and I reveled in it as I drove home a mere two and a half hours after arriving at his place. It was nice.
On the other hand, when I saw Blue Eyes on Saturday he told me he was falling in love with me. That’s a whole different ball game and he knows it’s not good for me right now. I wish he hadn’t told me, but I think he felt like he had no choice. Not sure what that will do to our “situation,” and he knows that. Why else would he start the conversation out with “at the risk of you backing away from me even more I need to tell you . . .?”
Ugh. Yuck. I’m trying to recall why I thought it was a good idea to keep sleeping with him after I backed him off the last time.
Answers are not coming with any clarity.
It’s possible I just haven’t given it enough time. I’m hopeful.