Given my line of work I should not be surprised when life fails to deliver a dozen roses and a box of chocolates. Life is not a box of chocolates. If life were a box of chocolates I'd be fat and sassy and never have PMS.
I've never met anyone who had the perfect Valentine's day. I've never had a perfect Valentine's day. Given the current quagmire that is my private life I didn't expect a perfect Valentine's day. My expectations were met. It was bloody. The main artery was punctured early Monday afternoon and didn't stop bleeding until well into Tuesday night. Sucky sucky sucky.
Mr. Stonecold is the closest thing I have to a Valentine right now. He's the guy I'm sleeping with. He's a very good friend. He's the male companionship I spend time with. We're not "dating" because he's got issues with the word. But damn it, who the hell else am I supposed to make dinner for and buy chocolates for on Valentine's day?
So I decided on Monday that Tuesday night I would make him dinner. Nothing special. No flowers. No big deal. Just dinner. I hinted that I had plans for Tuesday. Evidently this freaked him out because of the implications of us celebrating a holiday for "lovers". Well damn it, we are lovers. We're not in love, but we're lovers.
This pissed me off. It once again brings into question the nature of our relationship. He's happy with the physical nature of our relationship. Hell, what guy wouldn't be? We hang out as friends when we're not "physical". We talk all the time. We're really good friends. He offers advice and counseling when I'm having a tough time. I reciprocate. But there is a very definite emotional line that is not allowed to be crossed. The thing is, he crosses the line all the time. There is significantly more to our relationship than just the occasional booty call. I think he really wants that. He just won't acknowledge that he wants that.
I don't want to fall in love. I don't want to get attached. I don't want to get married. I don't want to talk about the future. I don't want to plan retirement together. I don't want to fight over who's parents we're going to visit for Christmas. I don't want to move in with him. I don't want to make him breakfast and tell him that what he is wearing looks like shit. I don't want to look for his lost keys when he can't find them before he leaves. I don't want to go grocery shopping together and then come home and talk about the weather. I want to have someone that I can talk to about everything that is going on in my life and then go have Amazing...well...yeah. I want what we have. And I think he wants the same thing.
The thing is, despite what we both want we are going to have to eventually acknowledge that (a) what we're doing is dating and (b) emotions are involved. Emotions are involved. They are. That's just the reality of the situation. He got freaked out over Valentine's day. That's an emotion. He is happy and content when we're cuddling before we fall asleep. That's an emotion. We both look forward to the time we spend together. That is an emotion. We like to be together. That is an emotion. He gets a kick out of pushing my buttons and I get a kick out of pushing his. That's an emotion. Emotions are involved. They will continue to be involved, and they will only become a greater factor. I'm willing to admit they are there. I'm not willing to admit they are trending towards what they are. That's just not a reality I'm willing to face yet. He's in complete denial that they even exist. We're at an impasse. Still.
So we watched the Olympics and got drunk. Happy fricken Valentine's Day.
1 comment:
Really?
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