I sat crossed legged on Hy’s sofa, an embroidered pillow in my lap, a glass of white wine in my hand. Her new living quarters have the same colorful, eclectic style of her last place, but it feels more spacious. At first glance one might assume the art on the walls and the books and candles were just randomly scattered about, but no. There’s thought and design with each choice. The space is calming, in a zen-like way.
We had been catching up, talking about things neither one of us choose to address on our blogs… the non-relationship stuff. But then, as most women do no matter their age, we circled around and began to discuss boys. As her “boy” has settled into a model man who is fast learning how to successfully navigate a relationship, the talk turned to my current state of affairs. While talking about Nathan and the things I love about him I said, “He accepts what I present to him. He takes me at face value and doesn’t question me, so I’m able to still have my secrets. And my secrets are important to me. They make me feel safe.”
“Well Marian,” Hy said, her sapphire eyes twinkling, “You certainly don’t move in a straight line.”
I started laughing. Because what she said is so true. I’ve given myself whiplash with my quick turns and 180s. But all this happens below the surface. Sometimes it’s an infatuation that lasts a couple of days or as in the case of Chris, one that has been simmering for years, but not acted upon. They are churning currents of hot and cold that swirl and turn under a calm sea.
We went out later that night. Beers were downed. Pool was played. Men were harmlessly flirted with. And we were happily curled back up in her apartment before midnight, gleefully ordering pizza, making brownies and watching recorded TV. That’s when Chris texted me. He knew I was having a girl’s weekend because he and Nathan had gone hiking together that morning.
Hope you’re having fun and staying safe, it read.
My smile gave me away to Hy immediately. “Who’s texting you?” she asked, “Did you get a dick pic?”
“No,” I said, and told her who it was. I was already texting back.
I wrote: I am. And I hope you are practicing safe texting because I’ve been drinking. And do not want to held responsible.
Him: Oh I see. Getting into trouble?
Me: Well, apparently my eyes promise trouble. (I was referring to what I guy at the bar had said) Do you think so?
Him: Your eyes can never get you into trouble. It’s your hands and the rest of that hard body.
Now, at this I paused. I’ve been told many times over the years that my eyes speak of dark, lusty things. But here he was talking about my hands. That told me something… It told me that when I touch him, even though it is just casually, it tempts him.
And then I did something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. I pointed out the elephant in the room.
Me: I would really like to kiss you again.
I inhaled, waiting for his response.
Him: I think what you’re saying is Finish what we started. :)
Me: I try to stop thinking about it. I do. It’s just… hard not to.
Him: I understand.
I didn’t text back for a little while. It felt like I had done enough damage for one evening. But before Hy and I settled into her super comfy bed for the night I sent one last message: I’m going to bed now. Please forgive me if I overstepped.
My phone chimed with this: Sweet dreams.
The next morning Hy gave me some advice. “You should delete his number,” she said.
“Yes,” I agreed, “I should.” But I made no move to do so. And I haven’t. And won’t. But somehow, just addressing the elephant in room makes me feel calmer… more in control. I haven’t texted him since that last one. And plan on staying silent. But he, Nathan and I are going hiking this coming weekend, so we shall see how the undercurrents churn then.