The other day I got a text from the doctor asking what my weekend looks like. It came much too late. It seemed like he didn’t want the time I did have available, so I said yes to someone else who asked later.
Today I let the doc know I have a Sunday date. He told me to have fun. I wrote, “I expect I will. Ultimately I’d like a relationship that involves more than what you want from me.”
Then things got confusing…he hinted that I didn’t really know what he wanted from me. That got me thinking.
In all the time I’ve known him, he never seemed like the type to engage in meaningless physical intimacy. So when, weeks ago, he started telling me about all the things he wanted to do to me and how much he wanted me, how much I turned him on, I wondered if there might be something more behind it. I didn’t want to think on that too long, remembering how not even a year ago, I would have been ecstatic over the possibility.
Now, today, I was faced with that possibility. And I was annoyed! Annoyed.
He was too. Did I really think he needed to come all the way to my city just for sex? Of course I didn’t know for certain. But he hadn’t talked of doing anything more with me than fucking, so under those circumstances, could I really be expected to think anything else?
“It’s not just that”, he says. So what is it? What is it that you want? I asked him.
He’s not sure.
Goddamn it, doc.
Sept Jours 