Ok, this is a change of pace from the usual, you might hate it, but I had to write it.
(I promise next week will be back to full on filth with a super juicy story from my friend Liam)
All these things I see and I did not see.
There are three indicators that I’m starting to like someone, that they’re getting under my skin – that I’m getting too used to them.
It doesn’t mean that I love them or even that I want to go out with them. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything – except I want them more than anyone else.
They’re probably not your average ones but they’re my markers. And somehow I missed them or hid them from my own comprehension, all until it was too late. It was on the last one that it dawned on me.
When my mind is wandering (usually while cycling) with aimless thoughts of a guy I’ve maybe seen a few times/been seeing for a little while and I think? Wait? No one knows I’m seeing him. No one knows he’s seeing me. If I got killed right now. He’d never know, no one would know to tell him. Or if anything happened him, no one would tell me? I’d just never hear from him again.
And this thought disturbs me.
That’s sign number one that I probably give a shit.
Abbi is short for Abilene. Only my closest friends, family and important lovers (ok boyfriends if you must) call me that. I don’t like people who don’t know me to call me that. It’s somehow too personal.
But I love it when someone figures it out and naturally switches to calling me Abilene.
Sign number two, he only called me Abilene now. And it gave me a thrill every time.
And lastly. I know it’s saccharine. But it’s the word I always use. I don’t use any other.
When I default to calling him baby. Then.
I probably care/am attached/will find leaving difficult.
Hours later after the ass sex, after literally hours more of playing and teasing he finally came again and we both collapsed apart. He rolled to the edge of the end of my bed and out of breath he declared that he couldn’t move and he was just going to sleep where he had landed. I laughed and said: You can sleep where ever you like baby!
And I was so glad the lights were off, and that he was still recovering so that he didn’t see me freeze or hear my breath stop.
That there was the end.
It took all three signs for me to realise it. Feck sake.
There’s no greater betrayal than when your own self betrays you.
I knew then even as we drifted off to sleep together that I would never see him again. That I couldn’t. My brain was starting to get confused, it was trying to trick me.
As we drifted off I whispered ‘I don’t want to do this anymore’ he whispered back ‘Please don’t say that’
And we fell asleep.
I kissed him at the door, groggy with sleep and the sun blinding my eyes.
I wish I’d hid his T-shirt a bit better but he had it. I wanted to keep it. Even though it said cop on it. I wanted to keep something.
*Before anyone berates me for being a horrible bitch, let’s just remember that I haven’t done anything wrong here and neither has he. I just decided that I was getting too used to an arrangement that was becoming a lot of work.
And I was starting to confuse amazing sex with something else. And this was not something else. We never went out, we never had dates we had met none of each other’s friends…. And this suited both of us.
But for me, it had run its course because I felt the lines were getting blurred, and not in a terrible Robin Thicke way, just in the normal terrible way.
He knows all this and isn’t arguing. He enjoyed the ride.