Rumination is not the purpose of the Rotational, Delighted Distraction however is.
Still, I succumb naturally to reflection the moment there's a lull. Here on one hand is Kentucky, articulate, smart, polite, and even, yes, caring. Wholesome as milk. Unfortunately, he has me wondering if an arsenal stocked with tantra, the full measure of my sexual experience plus some old school Dr. Ruth will ever help me pave a longer road between start to disheartening finish. I don't think I've ever mapped the Start-Stop technique as thoroughly as I've had to with him, no matter that I've been nimble as a mission impossible thief racing a 2 minute window against certain death. I'd have more success therapotting him myself and extracting the tricky little bugaboo living in his head so terribly fond of ad hoc sexual re-wiring.
Oh, and did I mention? Just as I wondered out loud if he'd like to meet my Frugens, he announced he was quite alright if I was friends with them but he'd no interest in meeting either. I asked why, and his answer was that he didn't like having his butt messed with. Something he attributed to having received an extensively thorough ass rating on a previous waitering job, where from my understanding, he was generously tipped - no pun intended. Fair enough, gay men will do that to anyone they think is hot, but being willing is usually a prerequisite.
Then there's the evidence of the penile portraiture, probably taken in lewd fun and which I'm meant to be blissfully unaware of. IT had certainly closed the chapter on all things Serbian.
B and I have already gone thru the trajectory, or so I thought. Plus he seems to have a few more things to work out on his own that have nothing to do with me. Life, LA, work, reconciling himself to the fact that I may be it. Who knows? I'm standing there in that silent space inside when B sends me another text asking if I was free.
A few months ago I'd been brave enough to tell him that I GOT that he really didn't want more, even if strangely the intimacy and the companionship was equally satisfying and we would part from each other sweetly. Once even having caught the other doing a frowning look back after an amazing kiss, both of us wondering why we were even walking away.
Despite all that, much of what he hasn't said, told me enough about how he really couldn't be there. At least not for me. It is indeed, a sad reckoning. So now, I just assume this is naught but a booty call. I tell him I'm free to "hang out", did he want to come over?
I stare at my phone like it just spoke a foreign language but it takes me not even a minute to respond, "Say when-where, and I'll meet you there."
I suck my breath in and think, Gawd, I hope this doesn't hurt.