Yesterday B was here again. Last time before we parted he told me to call him some time if I want to get together with him again. So I called him up and we agreed on Tuesday.
The problem started with the joint. He had only this one left, so we smoked it, me more enthusiastically than I should have. Other times I got into a real good mood with B and then we usually fooled around. However, yesterday something strange happened. When he went to the bathroom (and left the door ajar) I heard a cellphone sound. So I suddenly thought - is he texting someone or checking someone's calls while with me? It was definitely a paranoid thought. I heard pot capable of inducing paranoia before but never experienced it. But I didn't say anything.
Instead, he asked me to dance for him, so I put on a sexy skirt and pulled up my shirt so my belly would show. Found appropriate music on youtube, too. I took a belly dance course while unemployed in New York, and I am naturally a good dancer anyway as my body is very flexible. He duly developed an erection (he was wearing soft material so I could see it). But instead of kissing me (I guess, I could have initiated it), he stroked my body in a nice way but then proceeded to place me on the couch in a doggie style position.
This and my suspicions about his phone calls suddenly obliterated my desire. I jumped up and sat close to him (he is rather deaf) and asked him point blank if he was checking on his phone while in the bathroom. He said, "no, did my phone ring?", checked his phone and told me it must have been mine. Then I started to ask him about his 'story' since his divorce about 7 years ago. He told me he had only 2 sexually intense relationships, with the 20 years younger girl and I guess, the other one was with his wife. And that he doesn't "have another girlfriend". Ah, how sweet.
But my paranoia didn't subside and the main reason was that recently I noticed he was emailing several hours a day. I actually made him invisible to me in one account, but then kept logging in to my other account, as I just had to see. I am very obsessive, you know. To the point that he realized I was "stalking" him. He actually mentioned yesterday that he corresponds with a lot of friends in the US, apparently to calm me down.
But this was not the only sign - around Xmas I called him to arrange for a get-together and he said let's not do it at his place as his neighbor is always listening in on him (hah, another stalker!). I said ok, then he sent me an email on the day, saying 'he has very high fever and can't do it'. Then, I, being the person I am (I actually was diagnosed with OCD while working at Yale) gave him a few phone calls in the following days. OK, it might not even be that strange of me to try to reach him, if we think about it. And his cell was turned off. Damn. I thought he is corresponding with a woman in the US and now she came over to visit him. How sweet.
After the strained discussion about his relationships (nonexistent) we started to chat about a lot of BS, like the traffic on my street and such crucial topics. I showed him my sketches of nude models and he said he would be quite happy if he could draw like me. Always the "Me". The me, the me, the me. Rarely 'you'. Why? Ah, ok, he is just another self-absorbed artist type.
What really strikes me is my own thinking and how much I can distort it or how differently unfold the conversations from what I had imagined before. I was hoping to talk honestly about his sexual relations, and also mine so we could eliminate the condoms, that he tried to use in vain last time ("three blanks", as he said). And that I also would tell him about my ongoing and I guess, never-ending love for J, who treats me to the best restaurants when he is here and just tries to please in as many ways as he can think of. And that I would suggest him (B) that we have a 'poly-amorous' relationship, in which both parties date other people. The main difference is, instead of cheating on your partner you are honest and upfront about your parallel relationship with them. This way you are supposed to be more grounded as you don't have to suffer the sudden loss of the only partner you have when you break up. I was actually thinking to speak about this to him before we smoke pot as I didn't want to feel stupid while having a serious discussion like this.
Well, I guess, I failed it. My own plans. I couldn't even get his opinion on this as I didn't get to the point when I could have explained this concept to him at all. Damn. Is it my fault? I guess, not completely. B looked just so bored last night when I tried to tell him about anything that that itself became an impediment.
Or, it is possible that I can't bear the thought of another woman? But that is not true, after all, J has had a parallel woman ever since I had him. True, it was very hard in the beginning but somehow I managed to accept this situation as the best we could ever have.
No, I don't even think B would be interested in such an arrangement. Anyway, why do I even wonder about this now?
As for the rest of the evening, here is the 'finale'. Around midnight B got up from his chair and said he should go. I got upset and tried to hug him and even set on his lap in a suggestive pose to make him change his mind. But he didn't. He didn't even want to smoke a cigarette with me. So I let him out, and a minute later he came back knocking on my door saying he can't get out. So told him about red button to push. Then I went to bathroom and he was back in another minute hitting my door real hard so I had to shout out to him saying I'd be there in a minute. It was a bit scary. So I put on a coat and let him out through the gate after pushing the red button for him. I thanked him rather sarcastically for "not breaking into my apartment".
After he left my first thought was a huge, huge relief. Why was I poisoning my life with this guy for 1.5 years? What a relief not having to think about such a narcissistic, self-absorbed artist type? Did he sweeten my life ever? Oh, ok, to be honest, he did, sometimes. He made me dress better. And he made me feel better about my body, as he always praised it. And took a lot of photos of it. Not that I am not aware I have a nice body, kind of, but nobody ever told me before my tits were so precious. At the age of 45! Thanks, B. Too bad, you will never be honest about your affairs. Just as my sister predicted. OK, I am done with you, it seems.
On to greener pasturs...