I’m a silly cunt sometimes

I’ve fallen for my housemate. I’m a total idiot, and should have known better. He’s called JB, he’s lovely, and had I met him in a different life, who knows? It could have been different.

The night I came to look at the house was so much fun. I wasn’t exactly sure how to find it, but I knew he was at home waiting for me, and in the quickly darkening evening I could see him sitting on the sofa  playing on an ipad and drinking red wine. All the signs were good that this was going to be somewhere I’d be happy living.

I can hear his voice so clearly, welcoming me. “Hello”. He was excited and nervous - we’d met once before at a mutual friend’s birthday party, and as we all left, JB and I danced to the train station. I found him on facebook, and found his art blog. He remembers me as his first following. We seemed to be quietly noteworthy in each others’ lives.

He showed me the house. A study (yay), with room for my sewing machine. filled with books. Heaven. A lobby, beautifully decorated to exactly my taste. A lovely bathroom and a new kitchen, just put in. He showed me the room, it was great. We went to the kitchen, and he gave me the key. It was that easy. He poured me some wine.

We chatted. We talked our way through three bottles of wine, and I was having a great time. We agreed on so many things, and agreed at how stupid those who didn’t agree with us were. I told him I was polyamorous. We watched Youtube clips and laughed together on the sofa. We let our bodies touch. I don’t really remember saying this (although definitely not out of the realm of possibility) but apparently I said “so is fucking part of the deal?”. Ugh

So we kissed, we really made out. He took me upstairs, I ripped his (and my own) clothes off. We touched, I sucked his cock. I remember a hazy and not very enjoyable 69 (those things scare me - too much chance for a nose up the bum) and then him not being able to keep it up. I remember waking up a lot, and feeling very thirsty. It was a little weird.

A few days later I came to show my four year old nephew the house. JB thanked me for being cool. I felt cool. I like fucking people and although it wasn’t my most successful drunken fuck, I had enjoyed myself. I moved in.

We started a weird friendship, a slight romance. We enjoyed each other so much, and began to fool around most weekends. I was fine - I was really ok with it all, and JB was so clear that a real relationship between us wasn’t really an option.

I ignored him. I wondered what it would be like if we were together. I thought if I pretended hard enough, he’d change his mind. He kept saying how excellent I was, and I thought that meant he wanted to be with me, and was coming around to the idea.

He wasn’t. I know that categorically, after starting to cry when we agreed we should probably stop the kissing, the fucking and the cuddling up to watch TV, I confessed I was upset because I loved him. Accidentally loved him. He was (is?) shocked, and as gently as possible told me that I would never make it into his heart.

I’m retreating now, trying to get some distance without being mean (although my lesser self wants him to be as hurt as I feel), but I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

I want him.

M2

On Friday night I really had the most blissful time. I met up with a friend, M2, who I’m sort of getting quite close to. I’d felt quite attracted to his lovely quiet beardy amazingness for a while, and then embarrassingly told him how I felt whilst unknowingly forcing him to sit in direct eye-line of a pair of my dirty knickers. That’s how cool I am.

Anyway, we had moved on from that, and he had actually said that he felt the same way, but he has a new girlfriend and it couldn’t go anywhere. That was fine, I mean, I know my relationship is open, but I’ve got to respect that others’ aren’t. With great power comes great responsibility etc. So on Friday we went out for a drink after work. Phew. 

I met him at his offices and we walked about 15 minutes to this completely out-of-the-way-only-locals-go-here-who-the-fuck-are-you-guys pub and talked about our childhoods, and our families and just generally caught up. It was bliss. He’s very good at listening, and also really good at holding back his own opinions. He will form a judgement, and wont tell you when you are most likely to be affected by it and then three weeks later, once you’ve come through it all, he’ll tell you his honest opinion. He just wants you to get there on your own. It’s sort of frustrating/refreshing. I appreciate it most of the time. 

We then headed back to the High Street to meet up with a friend of mine from work. M2 and I had gotten to that lovely 2-pints-in stage of intimacy and I didn’t really want to meet my friend, J. I looked at him and thought ‘I really want to kiss you’. But I didn’t do it (or say it, which is perhaps more remarkable). It was fine though, and we had a quiet drink with J and then 2 very loud drinks before J went home. M2 and I carried on and got a curry (delish) before heading back to his place to partake of it’s deliciousness. 

We ate on his sofa, quite drunk by this point, and then sat chatting. I don’t really remember what we talked about for the most part. He then pulled a cushion onto my lap and put his head there, and we talked about his story. I started to run my hands through his hair. He then asked mine, and I don’t really remember what I said, except for the time my Dad woke me up at about 6am one morning when I was 18, saying that my Mum has asked him to leave and he was going away for a while and didn’t know when he would be back. I told M2 how I hugged my Dad and then he left. M2 said how sad that was and I agreed. It felt so sad. He then took my hand and kissed it. 

I kept running my hand through his hair and he would take my hand and kiss it from time to time. I stroked his face and he kissed my hand again. I felt this enormous tenderness for him, and it felt so intimate just to be sitting there, with him falling asleep on my lap. He eventually fell deep into sleep and I dozed for an hour or two before extricating myself, briefly tidying up and then kissing him on the cheek and leaving. 

I don’t know how much of it he remembers, I hope as much as I do. But I don’t really need it to go any further than it did. It was just the unexpected tenderness I got back, you know? For the first time, I wasn’t even hoping for it and it came my way, from someone I truly respect and have gotten to know the old fashioned way. 

I really think he will be a great friend of mine. 

That Friday Night, about 11pm

I don’t know what it is with gay bars, but I am seeming to get quite the track record with meeting straight men there who apparently like me.

I’d had dinner with Tom and M2, a friend, and we’d all had red wine and roast beef and listened to music that made us feel happy and giddy and like we didn’t want the dinner to be over. M2 had to leave and after he’d gone T and I looked at each other and sort of did a sighing thing. We had always entertained M2 ensemble, rarely alone and the time we spent with him was like a courtship, plying him with funny stories, food and wine in the hopes of winning him as our friend.

I couldn’t bare it after he left and so told T I was going to meet up with some friends from work who were out for R's birthday. I didn’t have R’s number and although I had the numbers of other friends, I couldn’t be fagged texting to see where they were and assumed I would just make a delicious surprise entrance at the gay bar, where they were sure to be by now. It was a twenty minute walk there and I just fucking knew as soon as I walked in that they weren’t there. I casually looked for them, and then thought ‘fuck it’ and got a drink, sat at the bar and got my frosty bitch face on. I seem to think that ice queen is the look of choice when you’re standing alone at a bar.

The girls next to me walked outside, and soon after, he walked in. M. He looked at the place where the girls had been, then looked up at me. I hadn’t seen the grey hoodie you had asked for (although I have come to know it well now) and then I saw you cheekily sweetly ask the barmaid if it was behind the bar. I said I’d seen the girls leave but that I hadn’t seen them take your jacket. You said you were going to kill them if they’d lost it. They came back in, and immediately one pointed to the floor at your casually crumpled grey hoodie.

I must have failed completely at the ice queen thing, and rather unexpectedly succeeded at the ‘lost lamb who has been stood up’ look (although that wasn’t entirely the case) and your lovely friends started to chat to me, asking what I did and teasing you a hell of a lot. You said you knew me from somewhere and although I know your ex-girlfriend by sight you seemed to think we had had several meaningful conversations which I had conveniently forgotten. We all chatted and chatted, and I thought I got some vibes from you but wasn’t sure. You disappeared and the girls went out for a smoke. I was suddenly bored of the smoke, bored of being treated like a wee lass and wanted my friends. I faked a phone call and told your friends that my friends were walking up the road - when I walked to the entrance they were standing there. I went inside with them and got a drink.

About ten minutes later I saw you again, on your own, and suddenly felt horrible for abandoning you when you had been so nice to me before. You’d made it seem as though it was totally normal to be standing in a bar on your own on a Friday evening. That I was part of the gaggle of women that you’d come here with. I was feeling pretty lubed up from the vodka lemonades I’d been having (why do I even order these? I hate them, I just drink them when I get nervous and can’t think what to order) and so strutted over to you and started talking in your ear. Your friends came to say they were leaving and you stayed with me. We talked more and I can’t remember what we talked about, other than we were laughing and having a good time. You bought me another drink and my friend E came over to do a shot. It was a bit awkward, and I remember not wanting her there with us but also trying to make it look like I wasn’t completely flirting my head off (which I was) because E knew T. But she didn’t know the arrangement that T and I had come to. We did the shot and then blew E off. I knew it was on by this stage and took your hand and pulled you onto the dance floor. Into the dark shadowy bits.

God I am a sass-pot when I am drunk. I sure as hell don’t mess around and I am consistently surprised at my sheer fucking audacity, because I am so scared of repercussions when I am sober. Maybe it’s my authentic self coming the hell out to party.

I told you then that I had a boyfriend, but that we had an agreement about taking other lovers and you were visibly shocked. You were mostly intrigued though, and I remember dancing on my own in front of you and feeling so fuck-off powerful. Not over you, but over myself. I wanted something and I was going after it. You kissed me, and I asked you if you wanted to go outside to make out. You did.