Friend Date
I haven't written about Cello Guy in a while.
And since Les called him Cello Guy, and I am not friends with Les anymore, I don't know why I have to keep that name for him. Don't know why I even felt the need to disguise his name in the first place.
Bill. I haven't written about Bill in a while.
We haven't spent a whole day together since the day we met, but yesterday I got him all to myself.
I spent about an hour with Angel before meeting up with him.
He took me to a cello recital, and at one point, the conductor said to the audience, "most of you are here because you either love the cello, or love a cellist." I gave Bill a side glance and nudged him. He blushed and produced a big ol' "aww shucks" grin.
Bill knows I have feelings for him. I think he's finally okay with that. I think he's okay with that because he's seen how little it's affected our relationship over the years; how little chance there is that I'd act upon it, knowing it isn't returned, and already being with Angel. And he knows I love him just as much as a friend as I do a crush. I still suspect that if I felt any chemistry between us, I'd probably leave Angel and risk asking Bill out for a real date, but it seems a non-issue right now.
After the recital, we went back to my place to get some food I let him store at my place during a power outage. I ran my heater to his place and brought some frozen foods he had in the garage over to my place. It's the first time he's been in my apartment. It felt a little weird. I don't even have a real couch - just a cheap futon that's crumbling. Tried to make the place presentable in preparation for this moment, but it seems a lackluster result.
Back at his place, he showed me his new toy - a novelty cello in brilliant green. Plays almost as well as a standard cello, with a few little hardships about it. I asked if I could tinker a bit, and he let me. Even got out his own cello to give me an impromptu lesson, as well as a lesson in stage fright management. It went against everything I believe in, which is that the world would be better if I never touched a string instrument ever again, after the unraveling incident of my former violin.
The last stretch of our home adventure was embarrassing. Bill pointed out that I had some lipstick smudged off the top of my lip, and I rushed to the wc to wash it off. I put lipstick sealer on so this wouldn't happen, dammit! And of course, I need proper makeup remover to get it to come off clean, so at this point, I was just smearing it all over my face, running from the one sink to the next, hoping the kitchen would have a stronger soap. Eventually, Bill dug out his witch hazel and I went with that - good enough. At least I didn't look like I spent an hour practicing my kissing techniques with the hoover.
After play-time, we went out for soup - much-loved in this six-degree weather. After soup, coffee at Second Cup, where Bill whispered "oh my god, we're gonna die" at an intersection, in a fear-induced bout of road rage. I got a huge kick out of that. Bill bought some powdered sweets, and I, being on a diet to shed some of my US baggage, could only indulge by sniffing the box, which left me with powdered sugar on my face like a big dork.
We met up with a couple of friends at the movies (finally got to see Get Out! Really worth the $15) and chatted up for about 20 minutes after, and at long last, ended the evening.
Like my relationship with Angel, we don't touch. With Bill, it makes me sad, because I see him touch and even hug other people, but my desire to give him a hug could be skewing that impression.
Still, I went home feeling incredibly happy.
And since Les called him Cello Guy, and I am not friends with Les anymore, I don't know why I have to keep that name for him. Don't know why I even felt the need to disguise his name in the first place.
Bill. I haven't written about Bill in a while.
We haven't spent a whole day together since the day we met, but yesterday I got him all to myself.
I spent about an hour with Angel before meeting up with him.
He took me to a cello recital, and at one point, the conductor said to the audience, "most of you are here because you either love the cello, or love a cellist." I gave Bill a side glance and nudged him. He blushed and produced a big ol' "aww shucks" grin.
Bill knows I have feelings for him. I think he's finally okay with that. I think he's okay with that because he's seen how little it's affected our relationship over the years; how little chance there is that I'd act upon it, knowing it isn't returned, and already being with Angel. And he knows I love him just as much as a friend as I do a crush. I still suspect that if I felt any chemistry between us, I'd probably leave Angel and risk asking Bill out for a real date, but it seems a non-issue right now.
After the recital, we went back to my place to get some food I let him store at my place during a power outage. I ran my heater to his place and brought some frozen foods he had in the garage over to my place. It's the first time he's been in my apartment. It felt a little weird. I don't even have a real couch - just a cheap futon that's crumbling. Tried to make the place presentable in preparation for this moment, but it seems a lackluster result.
Back at his place, he showed me his new toy - a novelty cello in brilliant green. Plays almost as well as a standard cello, with a few little hardships about it. I asked if I could tinker a bit, and he let me. Even got out his own cello to give me an impromptu lesson, as well as a lesson in stage fright management. It went against everything I believe in, which is that the world would be better if I never touched a string instrument ever again, after the unraveling incident of my former violin.
The last stretch of our home adventure was embarrassing. Bill pointed out that I had some lipstick smudged off the top of my lip, and I rushed to the wc to wash it off. I put lipstick sealer on so this wouldn't happen, dammit! And of course, I need proper makeup remover to get it to come off clean, so at this point, I was just smearing it all over my face, running from the one sink to the next, hoping the kitchen would have a stronger soap. Eventually, Bill dug out his witch hazel and I went with that - good enough. At least I didn't look like I spent an hour practicing my kissing techniques with the hoover.
After play-time, we went out for soup - much-loved in this six-degree weather. After soup, coffee at Second Cup, where Bill whispered "oh my god, we're gonna die" at an intersection, in a fear-induced bout of road rage. I got a huge kick out of that. Bill bought some powdered sweets, and I, being on a diet to shed some of my US baggage, could only indulge by sniffing the box, which left me with powdered sugar on my face like a big dork.
We met up with a couple of friends at the movies (finally got to see Get Out! Really worth the $15) and chatted up for about 20 minutes after, and at long last, ended the evening.
Like my relationship with Angel, we don't touch. With Bill, it makes me sad, because I see him touch and even hug other people, but my desire to give him a hug could be skewing that impression.
Still, I went home feeling incredibly happy.