"Do you like men?" "No, but I'm attracted to them anyway."
So I'm not off this roller coaster yet, but at least the drops have become a bit less vertiginous.
Last Friday we chatted about mangoes and persimmons and I told him I'd text the next day about getting together. To avoid spoiling my nap, I waited until after 2 pm. It took him nearly four hours to get back to me (he took a nap, too), at which point I'd resigned myself to a night in. He proposed a nightcap but as we continued to chat, it became apparent that this would be late, if it happened at all, and when he finally concluded that this was probably not the night for it, I was frankly relieved. I'd been out the night before (though not too late) and the next day I had a holiday party and a birthday dinner.
We did chat a while about plans and he sounded eager to get together. Of the possibilities I threw out, he predictably chose the Christmas Eve get-together with some close friends. However, he also left the door open to rescheduling the nightcap for Wednesday evening at the bar near his apartment. Not only was the timing unusual (as a rule, he doesn't go out on school nights), but so was the location. "I would take that as a sex invite,"
clintswan said to me when I told him and I agreed. So of course I immediately started discounting the possibility of it taking place.
Thus it was no surprise at all that, when I reached out to him last night, he asked for another "raincheck". I'm disappointed, of course, and I woke up today grumpy because of it (and because the damn water was shut off to fix a plumbing issue). There's another world out there where Monday was a sex date with El Pasillero and tonight was a dinner with a newly-widowed friend from work and I didn't waste a minute of my time getting worked up over BB, but that's not the world I live in.
So the sex date with Pasillero didn't happen because the dinner--which could have been on Monday or Wednesday--had to end up conflicting with it. But the dinner went especially well. It was a restaurant both of us wanted to try and it was excellent and the conversation seemed to flow more easily than ever before. My widowed friend sounds like he's in a good place and I can claim a little bit of credit for that, which puts me in a better place.
Last weekend, when I was bitching to him about BB, I told
clintswan I wasn't going to let some dumb boy spoil my holiday and I'm still committed to that. This whole affair is suffused with echoes--part of the reason I had that griefstorm, I think, is that some of the feels I've endured pining for BB recall how I felt back when my romance with Monshu seemed equally hopeless. But BB is definitely no Monshu. He's not even a Ragoton. Pining over the latter nearly ruined my Christmas in 2009 and it's those echoes that are helping me keep everything in proper perspective this time around. So maybe I can actually learn from my mistakes?
Last Friday we chatted about mangoes and persimmons and I told him I'd text the next day about getting together. To avoid spoiling my nap, I waited until after 2 pm. It took him nearly four hours to get back to me (he took a nap, too), at which point I'd resigned myself to a night in. He proposed a nightcap but as we continued to chat, it became apparent that this would be late, if it happened at all, and when he finally concluded that this was probably not the night for it, I was frankly relieved. I'd been out the night before (though not too late) and the next day I had a holiday party and a birthday dinner.
We did chat a while about plans and he sounded eager to get together. Of the possibilities I threw out, he predictably chose the Christmas Eve get-together with some close friends. However, he also left the door open to rescheduling the nightcap for Wednesday evening at the bar near his apartment. Not only was the timing unusual (as a rule, he doesn't go out on school nights), but so was the location. "I would take that as a sex invite,"
clintswan said to me when I told him and I agreed. So of course I immediately started discounting the possibility of it taking place.
Thus it was no surprise at all that, when I reached out to him last night, he asked for another "raincheck". I'm disappointed, of course, and I woke up today grumpy because of it (and because the damn water was shut off to fix a plumbing issue). There's another world out there where Monday was a sex date with El Pasillero and tonight was a dinner with a newly-widowed friend from work and I didn't waste a minute of my time getting worked up over BB, but that's not the world I live in.
So the sex date with Pasillero didn't happen because the dinner--which could have been on Monday or Wednesday--had to end up conflicting with it. But the dinner went especially well. It was a restaurant both of us wanted to try and it was excellent and the conversation seemed to flow more easily than ever before. My widowed friend sounds like he's in a good place and I can claim a little bit of credit for that, which puts me in a better place.
Last weekend, when I was bitching to him about BB, I told
clintswan I wasn't going to let some dumb boy spoil my holiday and I'm still committed to that. This whole affair is suffused with echoes--part of the reason I had that griefstorm, I think, is that some of the feels I've endured pining for BB recall how I felt back when my romance with Monshu seemed equally hopeless. But BB is definitely no Monshu. He's not even a Ragoton. Pining over the latter nearly ruined my Christmas in 2009 and it's those echoes that are helping me keep everything in proper perspective this time around. So maybe I can actually learn from my mistakes?