Posts Tagged talk

I Think We Need to Talk

Finally, Tuesday night, N agreed to come by so we could talk. When he arrived, we exchanged a quick kiss on the lips. You could cut the tension with a knife. We started with some banter between us and my other roommate while I finished emptying the dishwasher. When I finished, I asked him if he wanted to go out on the balcony.

I knew what was coming, and I knew what I needed to do. I also knew a lot more than he thought I did. I let him go first, fully giving him the opportunity to come clean about his transgressions.

He opened with many, many praises. Two that stood out in my head were good-looking and disgustingly generous. I liked that part. At least he acknowledged what a full package I was, but apparently he didn’t realize it if he was there to break up with me.

We started to chat about his weekend and why he never called like he said he would. He recounted the story as the following: Friday night I passed out on the couch. T woke me up in the morning at 7:30 on the couch with a dead phone. We drove down to Amanda’s and the day got away from me. I didn’t call because I didn’t know what to say to you.”

IMMEDIATELY, I called him out on his lies. I pointed out I knew he never saw Amanda all weekend. He copped up and told me he went down the shore with his family. The way his new story progressed, he got a ride down the shore with his roommate after being woken up on the couch and met up with his parents for the rest of the weekend.

Things still weren’t adding up. I shook my head and told him I knew he still wasn’t being honest with me. He looked at me with a questioning expression. I explained how Grindr pegged him 17 miles away at 2:00am. Immediately, he shook his head and said, “I’m such a bad liar. Why am I lying!? Ok. So Friday night, I met a guy at Elmo in the city with two of his friends for dinner. Afterwards, we went back to his place on Staten Island. Nothing happened. We just hung out and then I went home.” Even then, he was still lying. No one comes back from Staten Island to Hoboken at 2:00. It would take four hours. You’d have to be insane to do that. Inside, I was crying. It was hard to hear. Outside, I was strong.

Going into this conversation, my goal was friendship. I knew we could not date any longer, but I hoped to still have him in my life as one of my best friends. However, he was making it very difficult by lying to me. My friends were much more honest with me than that. I knew what I knew and that’s all that mattered. If he was going to continue to lie to me, that was his choice.

He said, “This is not how I expected things to go.” I said to him, “You thought you were just going to come over here and rip off the band-aid?” His response: “Touché. This isn’t who I am. I don’t lie. You can ask [my roommate].”

Now, it was my turn to come clean. I had to tell him about Mr. Grindr, and I did. “I’m not going to stand here and pretend to be guilt free.” I told N I met him on Grindr. It started innocently, but when he started to suggest otherwise, I went along with it. I told him it was no emotional connection, just sex, and it was just my way of evening the playing field when I suspected him of cheating on me. I only told him about the first time we hooked up. He had no idea. I think I blindsided him with this information. My intent wasn’t malicious. But if I was going to cheat on him, I was going to have to deal with the consequences. After all, we weren’t exclusive, so I did nothing wrong according to “the rules,” but we all know what I did was wrong. I apologized for hurting and betraying him.

He asked if we hooked up in my bed and if he slept in my bed the same night. I simply replied, “I’m not going to get into the details.”

We began to talk about how we were going to proceed. It was going to be difficult at first, but eventually, we would be friends. He apologized for our timing being off. He told me he really liked me and spending time with me, but he just ended his long-term relationship with his last girlfriend shortly before meeting me. He was not ready for another serious relationship.

I took the opportunity to give him some advice. I’m not sure whether he appreciated it, but I think he did. I told him if he got into a relationship with anyone else, he owed it to them to be honest about extra curricular activities. We live in a climate when HIV is a serious threat to both his and his partner’s safety. I also told him I didn’t think he was scared enough of the possibility of HIV. Furthermore, I explained to him how wrong he was for hitting on my close friend Boston. He apologized emphatically. I explained to him if he wanted to have a more open relationship, he should have spoken up. I would have been open to that from the start, but when I thought we were progressing towards a serious relationship, how would I know to act any other way.

Finally, I told him if we were going to be friends, he needed to be more honest with me. “What do you mean?” was his response. I had my next words planned precisely. “Grindr is a small world. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“What does that mean?” I told him I wasn’t about to elaborate or sell someone out, but I knew he still wasn’t being honest with me. He really wanted to know more details, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I already knew what he was trying to do behind my back, and in the end, I got the guy he was chasing.

At this point, he had to go home and do some work before the morning. He turned to me and said, “Can I have a hug?” I happily responded “YES!” and we shared a nice embrace. We walked inside, and as he walked out the door, we shared one more long embrace and a sweet kiss goodbye.

I finally got to say my piece, but I wasn’t fully at peace. His dishonesty still bothered me. I thought he had more respect for me — Obviously not. It just proved to me we weren’t meant to be together. Deep down I still had affectionate feelings for him, and that would take time to get over. But, we were over. Only time would tell how our relationship would evolve.

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What Do You Want From This?

Tuesday came and went, and N and I barely talked. We usually messaged each other during the day at work on Gchat, but that day he wasn’t able to sign on. I was a little suspicious, but he said it happens periodically. I asked him to come over that night, and he said he would come by late. He wanted to go to the gym since he didn’t go the night before and ate and drank a lot at the graduation party.

I needed to further our discussion about what we were doing and where we were heading. I wasn’t satisfied with the current path laid out, so something needed to change.

When he came over, things were awkward. I didn’t get nearly the warm greeting I usually got. He hadn’t eaten, so he ordered a ton of food — Enough to feed three people. He also brought along supplies to smoke. We went out on the balcony so he could smoke. I was still feeling nauseous and not eating much. He mentioned smoking might be a good thing for my nausea. I hadn’t thought of that, and immediately agreed. The idea of smoking in my state wasn’t appealing, but the idea of feeling better sounded great at that point.

I asked him if we could talk about us. I wanted to get to him before his state of mind was altered. He responded, “Can I eat my food first?” Begrudgingly, I agreed, but this was torture for me. I knew it wouldn’t be a quick meal, and this was already eating at me for days. But, I would have to wait longer. We chatted a bit while I watched him eat, but the conversation was superficial and lacked substance.

When he was finishing eating, I was getting very flirtatious with him. I don’t know why I did this. Maybe I thought it was the only way to grab his attention. Maybe I was simply horny. Either way, we were making out in the kitchen and moved things to the bedroom. We had some fun and pleasured each other.

Warning: The following paragraph may be more graphic than you are used to reading here. When we got into bed, I started with the heavy petting and started using my mouth. After a short bit, we switched, and N gave me head. He always told me how much he enjoyed my dick and the taste of it. Whether or not this was just a line I will never know. I noticed immediately he was utilizing some new techniques. Of course my mind began to wonder where these came from? Another man recently perhaps? Either way, it felt great. Normally it took me some time to finish, but not tonight. He was finding all the right spots. I was very close, and right when he went deep, I exploded down the back of his throat. I didn’t make a noise when this was happening. I assumed he knew and that’s why he went deeper. When he pulled back, he asked why I didn’t tell him I was going to finish. I reminded him of an earlier discussion we had in which he told me I never needed to warn him of that. A big part of me did it on purpose. I did it in a power move. It made me feel like I had the upper hand. However, the power shifted almost immediately. He didn’t swallow all of my seed. A good portion was deposited back al over his hand. He motioned as if he was going to slap my chest with his semen-covered hand, but I protested. Instead, he quickly shifted and slid a semen-covered finger across my forehead and proclaimed, “Simba” and began to perform a victory dance around my bedroom. I have never before been so disrespected in my life. This one act solidified in my mind my status as his convenient booty call. No one disrespects someone they care about in this manner.

When we were finished, I ended up, arms folded, resting naked on his chest. Our faces were locked on each other, and I posed my question again, “Now can we talk about us?”

This whole time I felt like such a woman. I was doing all the things a needy girl does in a relationship, and I didn’t like it. But, I didn’t know what else to do. I needed answers, and I needed to know if he still had feelings for me.

So, I started the conversation. I asked, “What do you want from this?” I didn’t get a response. So, I posed another a better-phrased question, “Do you like where things are going?” He responded with a definitive yes. He explained he really enjoys spending time with me and thinks things were progressing well. I then asked, “Do you think we’re moving too fast?” Again, he said yes, and I agreed with him. We only knew each other a month and a half and he was spending almost every night in my bed. I took a lot of the blame here. I should have known better then to put us into that situation considering how new a gay relationship was for him. I asked if he wanted to take a step back, and again he said yes. I agreed and explained maybe we shouldn’t spend so much time together. In my mind, in light of recent events, I was already taking a step back to protect my own feelings. Now, I was going to give him all the space he needed. I was no longer going to be the first to initiate contact. I would respond to his messages, but I was going to give him a lot of space.

I know my hands were not clean at all. I had sex with another man. I justified it in my mind because it was just sex, and it was just to even the playing field for the suspected cheating. I had no emotional attachment to the man. But, in my mind, what N did at the bar was so much worse. I felt he was seeking out another relationship under my nose, not just a physical need. I now know how warped and hypocritical all this sounds, but at the time, it made sense to me.

I then took the opportunity to address N’s time spent on Grindr and at the gym. As he did two days earlier, he told me he was not actively seeking anything. He was just talking, “and not like ‘I want to stick it in your ass’ talking.” I knew better. No one just talks on Grindr. After all, it’s how I met N, and it’s how I met the random hookup. I wasn’t buying his line about just talking at all.

I told him if this was going to work, he needed to be completely honest with me. I could stand not being exclusive (or so I thought), but if that was the case, I needed to be kept in the loop. Looking back, I knew better. I don’t share my men. I knew that was not an arrangement I could be a part of, but I wasn’t ready to let him go.

We talked about how he didn’t need to spend every night with in my bed. He lived across the street. Some nights we could just do our own thing. He needed freedom, and I needed to give it to him if I wanted to keep him.

With that, it was starting to get late. I walked over to my phone and asked what time he needed to get up in the morning so I could set the alarm. He responded, “Well, I was going to go home.” I think my facial expression must have said a lot, because he immediately began to back peddle. He said, “No, but I’ll stay.” I said, “You can go home. You don’t have to stay. It’s fine.” I wasn’t even simply being passive aggressive. He insisted on staying now, and I gave him one more out. At this point, he pulled down the covers and got under the sheets.

The fact that he wanted to leave after our discussion painted a clearer picture for me. This was over. I didn’t fully know it yet, but we were done.

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