I just received another text. He is messaging me, looking to get together. This time last week I was vibrating with physical hunger, as is so often the case, esp whenever the Honcho and I have been getting along well. In fact, just over a week ago, I was climbing the walls. I encouraged Blondie as hard as I could and tried to engage him in the exchange of filthy messages, a sport that the Honcho and I regularly enjoy, which only served to prove that my vivid imagination and colourful vocabulary and Blondie’s are not really in the same league. Being a polite Canadian who is a good sport, he tried to keep up.
But that was over a week ago, and a week can be a long time. Right now I would be happy enough to see Blondie, he is nice company, but it is no longer the case that I will be removing his clothes with my teeth, which is what I have led him to expect. If we had sex, I don’t know how much I would be able to get out of it, or when that may change. Fucking hell. Complicated.
I think I will tell Blondie that I have to go away on a business trip, that should keep him interested but off my case in the short term. Then I will just wait a few days and see how I feel, see if anything changes. If it doesn’t change, I might call Socrates. Socrates is great at sex but even more importantly we are quite fond of each other and I would feel perfectly comfortable telling him that I don’t want to fuck him but he can still come over and get into bed with me and we can chat and drink tea.
Where is all this leading, I don’t know. Apparently nearly all my relationships revolve around neurochemically-fuelled physical attraction. In fact, it never crossed my mind until just now that they are supposed to revolve around anything else.