Posts Tagged thank you
All weekend long, Clark Kent and his mother were packing up his apartment. He still needed to live there for about two more weeks, but they put a big dent in what needed to be packed up. I was thrilled. While there was no doubt I would help him move, no one enjoys moving. No one enjoys packing and unpacking. I’d done it enough times myself.
I did try to do my part. Before I left on Sunday night, I offered to grab some boxes from work and deliver them to his apartment so his mother could continue packing while he was at work. His place was right by my gym, and I planned to take my lunch break at the gym. I grabbed as many boxes as I could from the supply room and took them over to his place.
I’d gotten his mother’s cell phone number the night before. I texted her to let her know I was on my way. She responded with many thanks.
When I arrived, she answered the door and gave me a big hug. She was very grateful and detailed for me all the progress she’d made. She was at a bit of an impasse because CK would have to make some decisions before she could pack any more.
I needed to be on my way, so I said a final goodbye to her since this was the last I’d be seeing of her on this trip. She was headed to the airport the following morning. She gave me another big hug and said, “Thank you.” I promised to keep CK in line and urge him to call home more often. She commented that he’d be in good hands with me. I was flattered and touched.
All day long, CK and I had been texting each other. We’d seen each other only a few short hours earlier, but it wasn’t enough. I missed him, and he missed me. On top of that, we hadn’t slept together since Friday night. It was shocking how quickly we’d grown so fondly attached. I was really gaga for this guy. Things were going great!
That night, I went home alone. I watched TV and wanted to call CK, but I didn’t want to interrupt his last night with his mother. I stalked him on FourSquare a bit until I learned they went to Dos Caminos for a late-night dinner.
Finally, very late that night, he called me. He’d gone up to the roof to smoke and call me. He told me he missed me and couldn’t wait for us to be together again the following night.
He detailed to me how much his mother liked me and told me how happy he was about the whole thing. I was really head over heels for this guy. Never had I felt so loved by another man. I could tell this guy was genuine. He really made me feel like a prince.
He also detailed for me how tired of his mother he was. They had spent a lot of tense time together. He was ready for a break. It’s understandable how they’d butt heads over a lot of things. I told him to stop being so mean to his mother. I pointed out to him it was Mother’s Day and she traveled all the way up north to help him. He realized what she was doing for him, and he truly appreciated it, however, her leaving would mean me arriving. We made plans for the following night and said goodnight.Follow @onegayatatime
Wednesday night arrived. It was “date night” for San Francisco and I. We were meeting in the Castro to grab a drink and maybe some dinner together. It had been a while since I’d seen him last, and we were due for a catch up.
Since work was paying, and I was too lazy to learn the public transit system in San Francisco, I decided to take a cab. We arrive in The Castro neighborhood, and I witnessed the largest rainbow flag I’d ever seen in my life. The only thing I could compare it to (for the Americans in the room) is the giant American flags that adorn the poles in the parking lots of Perkins across the country. If you read my blog, you know how much I’m not a fan of the rainbow. However, I’m embarrassed to admit, the sheer size and presence of this thing actually made me a little proud.
I got out of the cab and met him on the street as we exchanged a hug and a kiss. We made our way to Badlands just up the street just in time for some happy hour specials. We caught up on the other’s dating life over the past few months. I learned San Francisco is currently casually dating someone. In the back of my mind, I’m very happy to hear this news. I didn’t want things to escalate beyond drinks for us, and this news was reassuring.
As the alcohol flowed, his emotions escalated. He became much more affectionate, and even started to get a bit hot n’ heavy. I just went along with it. I had no emotions attached to these actions. I was fully over San Francisco. I tried changing the subject so he wouldn’t keep putting the moves on me.
He talked about the possibility of moving back to New York, but said it would be very different this time around. He’s a completely different person. Everything he was saying were basically the reasons why I ended things with him. It was as if he’d read the blog. (To my knowledge, he still does not know about the blog).
We started talking about his dream of opening a bar in Hawaii. We talked a great deal about even the smallest details in his dream. I suggested a name for his bar, and he immediately fell in love with it. He even went as far as to register the domain immediately from his BlackBerry. I told him how to do all this with my advertising background and knowledge and my recent experience of purchasing my own domain for this blog.
He then brought up the possibility of checking out a drag show that evening, but then he remembered it wasn’t my thing. Instead, he suggested we grab dinner at one of his favorite restaurants.
The meal was spectacular, and it wasn’t that expensive. I was also introduced to one of his friends who is a server there. As the night went on, San Francisco grew more and more inebriated. He wasn’t’ too much to handle yet, but he was drawing closer. He started growing louder and more indignant.
When the bill arrived, I think he thought I was going to take care of it. I think he thinks I have an unlimited expense account (which isn’t the case at all), when in reality I paid for his meal the last time I was out there because I wanted to thank him for hanging out with me that night. We split the check and made our way for the door.
The whole time, I was trying to send a pretty clear signal I wasn’t interested in hooking up that night. I was failing. He asked if we should go back to my hotel or hit up his apartment. Then he answered his own question when he realized how close to his place we were. Again, I just went with it. I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t just go home. I think I thought I could get him home and then say goodnight.
While we rode in a cab to his apartment, he asked me about the stuffed animals and orchids he sent me for my birthday. I explained that was over nine months ago. I was lucky I kept the orchids alive for six months. As far as the stuffed animals, I told him I gave the mistaken monkey away, but I still had the bear (of much more significance) at my parents’ house.
When we got to his place, I met his roommate for the first time. One had only seen me on Skype and heard lots about me, and the other had never met me. Ironically, the other share the same unique name as me and joined on as a roommate shortly following our breakup. I’m not going to lie; I thought it was a bit weird.
When we finished tormenting the roommates with S.F.’s drunken antics, we went into his room. It appeared I was spending the night. However, it was just going to be that. I was not having sex with him.
Of course the makeout session ensued. I thought to myself, “At least he’s a good kisser.” Then the makeout session morphed into more passionate actions, and I found myself with no clothes on. S.F. put me in a position to begin to penetrate me, but I wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. I kept casually squirming so it wouldn’t be possible. He kept gently trying, but I wasn’t going to give in. There was no way in hell I was going to have sex with him, but I also knew I was dealing with a drunk man. I gently whispered into his ear, “Let’s just spend the night together.”
With that, he rolled over into little spoon position. I curled up with him and went to bed. In the morning, when my alarm went off for me to head back to my hotel to go to work, I found myself with his mouth on my “morning excitement.” I had forgotten how good he is at that. It didn’t quite matter. I wasn’t in the mindset to finish with him, and we know how difficult that can be even when I am in the mindset.
I got dressed, and he remained in bed. I could tell he was disappointed, but I didn’t care. I was not going to revisit old territory.
I didn’t hear from him until much later the next day. He told me how hungover he was in the morning, proving to me how drunk he was. He asked what my plans were for the remainder of my trip, but we didn’t discuss meeting up again while I was there. I was happy to dodge that bullet.
I let things go further than I wanted, but at least I didn’t hurt his feelings too harshly in the meantime. In my mind things wouldn’t quite be the same for us going forward. No longer did I feel the urge to call him just to chat, which is sad. It appears I have collected what pieces of my heart I left in San Francisco…Follow @onegayatatime