We think of them, in the days that follow, when we plan our time, run across something we immediately recognize would be enjoyable to them. A song, a show, a shirt. It's so easy and natural for us to weave them into our consciousness. To deny it would be folly, of course, since it's part of what makes us what we are.
The Pegasus had noted that "a man pursues a woman until she captures him" though I much prefer the concurrent saying, "a hunter gets captured by the game". Still, both leave me with cold comfort. While anyone I've loved has my truest feelings, it is first and foremost for the honor of the experience.
Whether it's through keen force or watery half-heartedness, actively driving a relationship, yes, even ones that haven't been given that holy stature, is to deny each person involved what it's there to give each of them. This is a difficult concept for most of us who've been told to name our goals and claim them.
To fully experience partnering, another person cannot become a goal. But just themselves. With you.
BUT. After Beta testing me with the best friends, it gets a bit confusing. Is this still Area 51 or are we declaring it to the known world or at the very least, ourselves? Perhaps declassifying a section?
The Lovely Libran sister pipes up to suggest that perhaps it was in a fit of braggadocio that B had master-minded the Best Friends encounter. I think about this for a minute and go,"You mean, like I'm his Ageless Freak Girlfriend he had to show off on a bet? Nah, too much of an effort for B." This is a man who once when it was suggested that sniffing up a popper to enhance sexual pleasure might merit some experimenting, flatly told me he simply wouldn't remember to do it at the critical moment. Fair enough. But there you go. B is far from Machiavellian.
Blunt yes, self-involved sure, but deviously brilliant? No. I decide that what it is, is B's intent for the non-relationship crashing willy-nilly with the unavoidable bonding that occurs when people are a consistent part of each other's lives. This is precisely why so-called Pillow Friends can only really be kept as such if you would, without sex, really be neither their friend or ever cheerfully share a pillow with them. Which technically makes the sex feel almost medically procedural. Or hotly filled with unsustainable hatred. Beyond that, somebody somewhere is feeling more than a little something. And even that artificial arrangement can only last amicably for so long.
Was he in the realm of plausible deniability? Or outright negation? It was back to the contest of having my time consumed by his wavering. I'm happy to accept my annoyance as a genuine consequence, without any desire to punish either of us. It is what it is. I'm about as warm as a dead body and I highly doubted B would enjoy my cadaverous company. It would serve neither of us to meet in ill-humor. B seems to accept this and reverts to a charming good night after admitting he misses me too.
There was something about him I wasn't quite ready to see, something I'd hoped would stay hidden in the mines of phone calls and text messages, never to see the light of real day. Maybe it was my way of being protective of what I had with B.
And avoiding someone who seemed hell-bent on coming after me.