My very good longtime friend rolled in my driveway, stepped out of his car and wheeled his well-worn luggage into my home yesterday evening. His business has been taking him though my part of the country more often and I’ve become a sort of halfway house for him. I don’t mind in the least… In fact, I’ve come to enjoy our fireside chats, his perspective on life and calming presence. I’ve only written about him once on this blog and even then, his appearance in the tail end of this post was slight. Why? Because the closer we get the less I want to take a chance on jinxing it by putting my thoughts and feelings into words.
So what happened? Well, I’m getting to it. My very full Friday left me no time to think about prepping something for us to cook together, which we often enjoy doing, so we opted for the speed and convenience of southern drive thru chicken. Now because I only indulge in this cholesterol-boosting treat on rare occasions, I forgot that it is also packed with sodium. About an hour after we had eaten I was craving water like a desert stranded plane crash victim. Thankfully my fridge dispenses as much of the chilled, filtered goodness as I want. So I quenched my thirst greedily—to the tune of almost two liters of water!
With my stomach distended and sloshing there was no way I was following through with my original plan. If and when we do have sex it will be making love, not fucking. And that sort of thing is best attempted when one is feeling one’s best. At least I think so.
He’s still here, out on my back porch grilling burgers for us, but has been complaining of flu-like symptoms. So I think our night will play out like the dozens of others we’ve spent together: comfortable, homey, loving and chaste. Does it surprise you dear reader that I can hold back the raging sex drive I so often write about? It certainly does me, but when navigating the tricky waters between friend and lover I’m choosing caution over quick satisfaction.