So before I slog through the
cry-my-heart-out-about-the-Cutest-Boy-at-the Party part of yesterday, I have to
backtrack to about a month ago, to a dream about a different guy. One morning I
had a dream that Steampunk Guy and I were at the same event, gathered around
watching something happen. Unsure of how to approach him, I decided to simply
crawl into his lap. He told be he was glad that I’d stopped keeping things at
arm’s length. After that, things were (in the dream) resolved and I wasn’t
abstaining from him anymore. I woke up with such a warm feeling of well-being.
Later that day, in real life, I was goofing around in my
facebook inbox and found, in that silly “other messages” folder, a message from
him from when we first met. I friended him and that’s (somewhat paradoxically) how
I started to feel like we were actual friends. It’s easier to have perspective
about someone when he’s busy pressing “like” like all the other human beings.
Anyway, so that’s some foreshadowing for the awesome part of
the story (During which, I swear, I meet and play with a girl who has “Awesome”
tattooed on her wrist.) but first I need to plow through some nonsense I was
foolish enough to put myself through.
A few weeks ago, I gave myself this gold star for
breaking things off with the Cutest Boy at the Party because his relationship
wasn’t in a place where he could have playpals. It was exactly the right choice
and if I’d had enough faith and willpower I would’ve stuck to it, except that I
missed him too much after I’d stopped him from texting.
Once my feelings for him simmered down (I thought) from
five-alarm crush to potential someday play partner, I got us back into the
habit of texting, and we both got us back into the habit of flirting. We joked
about taking the sexTARDIS to a time when we could play. One day he let me know
he’d be alone for the evening and I instigated a pretty wonderful sexting
session. The boy is a very gifted writer, and though he’s never touched any of
my pink parts, he makes me wetter than anyone else does. (He was also a loyal
reader, which means he knows which buttons to push.) It was so much fun that,
when I got to the gym afterwards, I made the receptionist lady high-five me.
I knew I wanted more than texting though, real life rather
than the sexTARDIS. (Of which, I’m proud to say, I was unquestionably the
driver.) But we kept texting all day every day, and he got me through a 12-hour
workday by talking about being my slutty Companion and suggesting I hit on the
parents at Back to School night. One evening he just called for no reason, and
though that felt like it might be progress toward real life, I also suspected
he was sneaking the call.
Yesterday, I was enjoying my day off and reveling in the
newest Chuck Klosterman book, feeling decadent with free time on my one day off
this week. It was the first time I’d been alone and not-moving all week and it
felt AMAZING. Three texts came from CBATP, unusual for a Saturday. (By the way,
Dear Couples: All-weekend radio silence is for the birds. Best, Single Poly
Girl) He said she was still jealous and still didn’t want to play with anyone
else, and didn’t want him to either. I offered again to stop flirting, and he
said yes, that would be best.
There were absolutely no high-fives in this
breakup-type-thing, friends. (There needs to be a name for breakups of things
that are not things yet.) He was doing the exact right thing and he said he
still hoped to be play partners some day, he just didn’t want to lead me on or
hurt me. Too late, pal.
I called him crying like a complete fool.
“I guess I just want to say goodbye.”
“No! No goodbye!”
He said he still wanted to be friends but I knew there was
no way I could keep in touch with him without keeping the fantasies going for
myself. He just turns me on so completely, and apparently turns my heart on
too. Goddamn these boyfriend material guys who are not for me.
Anyway, I pointed out in kind of a not-nice way that we
aren’t friends, that we were something else, and it was a real and good
something else. I told him that I hated that one person got to decide for the
three of us whether that potential got followed. His answer was vexing,
predictable, and stabby: “Because I love her.”
Of course he loves her! Why the fuck should that preclude
him liking me?! Why is this a reason to throw away a perfectly nice girl with
everything to offer? My poly brain will never fully understand it.
Poly-tease couples are becoming my one of my very least
favorite things. It happened earlier this year, too, during the time the blog
was off. A nice Swinger couple got me all in a tizzy for them and then they
decided they weren’t ready even to just go to stuff with me. I was superpissed
then and I felt bad for getting mad. I know I should be all “Thank you for
taking care of yourself.” whenever there’s a no, but I can’t always pull it
off. Seriously, couples who are just
thinking about opening up: Get your shit together before you get my
fantasy-engines going. Grrrowr.
I pointed out that at no point in the past two weeks had he
acted like someone who was unavailable, but that is not quite true. He said
he’s been trying to make it okay on his end but it just wasn’t working. Oddly
his girl offered me snuggles around the same time on Fet, so I don’t think he
actually TOLD her who he was being a no-go with. I think I may have been vetoed
without even having been named in the conversation. Or maybe I wasn’t vetoed at
all and he was just using her as an excuse.
We didn’t hang up the phone on good terms. I was pissed at
him for dumping me and for messing with my party swagger for the evening. I
said jealous things I’m really not proud of. After we got off the phone, I
cried so hard that I thought I’d implode.
It was only a few weeks and we never even kissed in real
life (And I think only once in a text…) but that combination of that really
intense and beautiful aftercare and the all-day-every-weekday conversations got
me invested in a way that left me surprised and devastated.
But in the end, I’m glad I let myself get giddy for him. I’m
glad I drove us through all those conversations and imaginary adventures, even
though it wasn’t strictly the right thing to do. Usually when a thing gets
broken off, I delete all the texts first thing, watch the little yellow
progress bar count through them as they go, but I’m putting that off for a
little while. He was special, and I’m sad he was gone.
Next: I put on pretty underpants and head for Old Timey
Guy’s.