Time. Time time time. It passes, doesn't it? After six 30% lovely, 70% fraught months together, M and I have parted ways. It was for the best, although that doesn't mean I didn't the odd weeping session or two. I did like him an awful lot, but I guess I always knew it wasn't going to work. Ever.
S and I have slept together again. Last time was better, but still not great. He lost his hard on, and while that doesn't bother me really (not my fault!) I know it's because we shouldn't really be fucking. T has expressed a bit of angst over it - S and I work together so that's not wholly unexpected - and then I dealt him a bit of a shit card, because I mentioned we'd fucked and T wasn't expecting that. To be perfectly clear, I thought that I had let T know. I'd never expressly said it, but that's because I was trying to be gentle and I thought it was implied. I'd asked for a day when the flat would be free....but lesson learnt. I'm not out to fuck people if it's going to hurt T.
I've learnt the pattern with S though. It used to get me down as I missed him, but now I see the absence is from distraction, or indeed life. I'm more settled now, happier and more solid with T, so I barely notice the time. I've watched S a couple of times over the last few weeks and noted that I had missed our chats, and mentally noting that he looked really hot lately. I'd also noticed that the short-sleeves-and-tie-combo has gone out the window, something I like to think I played a part in. After we fucked last time, I jokingly mentioned that only Real Estate Agents can pull that look off, and I think the poor darling took my words to heart. I'm not really sorry - it's for his benefit after all! (sarcasm font please!)
I literally thought of S this morning, brushing my teeth getting ready for work, and that it had been a while since we connected. Immediately following that thought was a revolutionary thought for me - the title of this post - he always comes back.
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