D is having brunch with a friends as I type this and thank god I as I needed the space to myself. Not that he is the houseguest filled with annoyance but rather the opposite, I love having him in my space, he fits my space.
This morning as he stood in his underwear checking bus times on the computer I had to fight the urge to go over and hung him and caress his beautiful body etc. I fight this urge as in my fantasy he returns the snuggle, kisses me and we have that intimacy that I am dying for, but I know that will not happen.
This weekend we had a fight first; well for me it was a fight, I am sure he just rolled his eyes etc and thought nothing of it but I don’t care I was pissed. Turns out he was in Montreal last weekend for a visit. During his visit he went to the gay village and clubbed with some friends, never once ringing me for a drink or coffee. He is allowed to do that I know, we are a nothing etc but I hate that he kept that a secret. He told me this towards the end of the evening several beers in so no composure was contained on my part. We argued out something crap in the cab ride home. Something unimportant and a mere excuse to argue safely without me using my words. Once returned to our places of slumber, his my bed and mine the futon, I tell him I am pissed at him and I don’t know why and then we sleep.
The next day he joins me for breakfast and its awkward for an hour, the conversation stilted as the drunken elephant sits at the table with us. I don’t want to address it, I can’t address etc, I will move on once he is out of my house. Not sure there will be a visit again.
The day progresses and we shop and enjoy the Mile End neighborhood where he says he loves red heads, and checks out some guy in the street. I don’t register at all to him in that way. Why didn’t I ask him to go right then and there I don’t know.
Once home we have a great conversation in the kitchen while I make cookies, he asks questions, actively listens and I was sharing. It felt good to share. Then an audit of my library was made and we commented on books, he borrowed a few, a few i didn't let out for fear I would never see them again. It was that intellectual ease I long for.
The kicker was the dinner at his friends yesterday night. We dress together and leave together walking through the streets of Montreal with wine and snacks in hand, every image that of a couple going to a dinner party. Once there his friends welcome me and conversation is shared in the most organic way. “I like him" one guest says "he has to come back” and she looks at D for recognition and none is made. I fit in there; we have fun and its natural. Yet as the evening progresses as we were sitting in close proximity several times our toes in socked feet accidentally touch under the table, each time he pulls away as quickly as possible. After several hours of inclusion in his world, if only knee deep, we jacket up and head for home.
Back on the metro there is this coldness, the same coldness as the night before. He makes idle chit chat uncomfortably till he is back home and slumbers. I lay awake an hour staring and wondering what this is, how this is, how I have allowed it again.
Morning comes and we awake again and he is warm like a puppy, asks me if I had fun last night and is all cute and smiles. I type confused.
I love this man I do, and in that I should see a gift. I have fostered emotively a connection to an admirable male. But him not me. And I need it to stop.
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