Maybe I Shouldn’t Have Done That…

3 Sep

Dear Mr. Perfect,

Maybe I should start calling you Semi-Perfect.

But I was the one that caved.  I felt like I had no where else to turn.  So what did I do?  I called you.  You know what I am going through, because you have been there before.  You understand the jumble of emotions running through my head.  I couldn’t take the thoughts anymore, the stress, the self-doubt.  And I didn’t know what to do.  So I picked up the phone, scrolled through my phonebook, and called you.

I cried as soon as you answered the phone.  I poured my heart out.  Everything I was feeling.  And it had nothing to do with you, or us.  I just needed a friend, someone to let me spill everything I had been keeping in.  And you listened.  You didn’t pass judgement.  You didn’t give advice.  You just let me talk, cry, and get it out.

After I was done, you told me that by some luck of the draw, you didn’t have your kids tonight.  I didn’t have mine, either.  You said you were going to come pick me up, and take me out for a drink.  I asked if this was just as friends, so we were on the same level.  You said of course.  OK, I’m game.  I need a drink, or ten.  See you in a little bit.

You’re not anything if not punctual.  The doorbell rang as I was getting dressed.  I took great care to look like I took no care at all.  We women are funny that way.

When I opened the door, and I saw you for the first time in however long, I was…OK.  No rush of emotions, didn’t feel the need to cry.  I was just happy you were there, willing to take me out and let me vent.  I felt right then that this friendship could work.

We went to the pub we used to frequent.  Burgers, beer, darts…does it get any better?  The first thing I did was order an appletini (I am a sucker for those), down it, and order another.  You know I am a lightweight, and you told me to take care.  Eh, I replied.  Maybe I just need a “fuck-it-all” night.

I continued to drink heavily.  Definitely not like me.  You sipped your beer, continued to ask me questions and pick my brain on things that were bothering me.  Eventually, as even my drunk self knew it would, the discussion turned to us.  And damn if alcohol doesn’t have a way of me speaking the truth…

I asked about us.  About your feelings toward me.  You told me you care for me very much.  But then you said you are not in a place at this point in your life where you need to date someone.  You said you could not give me what I needed or wanted.  I asked if we ever had a chance, and you replied I don’t know.  I respected that answer, and we continued on with our night.

We played some darts.  We (I) drank some more.  At one point, I do remember you turning toward me and saying:

“You know I am going to spend the night tonight.”

I felt a shiver of anticipation run down my spine.  Did he really mean…?  Nah, no way.  We had the just friends talk.

We eventually left and you drove back to my place.  No way in hell I could drive.  We sat on the couch…well you sat, I laid on you.  I missed the contact we had.  And I was happy to be getting it.  We watched Comedy Central.  We drank some more.  I did the stupid drunk crying girl routine.  You told me I needed to go to bed.  I crawled into my room, and passed the fuck out.  Done.

Done, that was, until about 3 in the morning when you woke me up.  And we did what I thought would never happen again.  I fell back asleep with a smile on my face.

The next morning when I woke up, you were still there.  I had somewhere to be, so I got up and got dressed.  I poked you, almost afraid for you to open your eyes.  If you didn’t, I was going to take the cowards way out and leave a note.  But you opened those blue eyes, and smiled at me.  Good morning Esme, you said.  I hope you enjoyed your night last night.  I gave you a kiss on the cheek, and told you I had no regrets.  I wondered, though, if this would change things.  For the better or worse.

Turns out it didn’t change things at all.  I still heard from you as much as I did before.  There was no talk about getting back together.  It was just still you and I, friends.  But now, friends with benefits.  And I was quite alright with that.  And I told you as such.  You said maybe, we will see.

Since that night we have seen each other again.  And we are seeing each other this weekend.  And will see has turned into yes, we are friends with benefits.  Still no awkwardness.  No talk of dating again.  No discussion of what we are doing.  And for right now, it is…perfect.  No commitment, no guilt when I go on dates.  That will change, though…I am a serial monogamist.

Only time will tell.  It’s has to get worse or get better at some point…

Love, Esme


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