Jason poked me on Facebook. I didn’t even realize it was happening until one day I finally did, like noticing that chip in your windshield.
We struck up a chat and he asked if we could get together to “catch up.” Curious, I agreed.
Jason is ten years my junior, a PhD student, and bisexual. We met on a steamy September afternoon in 2011 and spent that night naked and bathed in sweat, his fat black cat bored and staring in the corner. He made me feel smart and funny and I liked that he was into men. He liked my supportive, open-minded nature. However, our honeymoon was short-lived.
He was also flaky and unresponsive, had a delusional belief that he was hung like a horse, when he was a regular dude, and he demanded obscene amounts of my attention while he bounced dissertation issues off of me due to my academic background while then deluging me with ex-girlfriend horror stories. He feigned interest in what I had to say, but couldn’t wait to get the conversation back to either his writings or that other crazy, fucked up thing his ex-girlfriend had done to him. I felt used by him — and ignored — and what was at first very promising, soon only served to irritate me.
He was one of the original men in my life when I started this blog — it was him, Phillip, Kevin, and The Neighbor — and as I came back down to earth and realized I was fracturing myself from use of random cock, I froze the dating to the four of them, and told them all I was trying to piece myself back together.
At some point later that fall, Jason suggested we stop using condoms — we’d go get tested and only go bareback with each other. I agreed because on some 16-year-old girl level, it felt sweet, and I felt extra special. It was the perfect agreement until I met Phillip for our third “date.”
I’d fucked Phillip once before I’d met Jason, and without a condom. He was cautious with his lovers, apparently, and didn’t “presume” that we’d have sex that night, so he had no protection. Same story for our next tryst. His strong hands kneaded my back and slid my panties down, he massaged my pussy lips, too and I pushed my bottom up into his hand. I had no will power when I discovered we were condom-less once again and I saw his gigantic erection spring away from his boxers. I never told Jason I’d cheated on him.
But then again, he was flaky and I was pissed, and I trusted Phillip. It all turned out fine in the end. By March, Jason and I had died on the vine anyway, TN and I had stopped using condoms, and I never heard from Phillip again once I told him we would have to use protection going forward. Kevin was always peripherally in the picture – where he continues to lurk – but at a distance.
So my affair with Jason was braided in with this blog and with those three other men, with promises of fluid fidelity, and with my growing feelings for TN. Today, we finally saw each other after nearly a year.
“Why did we stop seeing each other?” he asked me, his bright blue eyes accented by his blue shirt.
“I’m not sure, really. We just did. You got a girlfriend. At least that’s what all the Internet cats on your Facebook wall told me.”
He laughed and said yes, then we caught up. I filled him in on my life and my love, told him the condensed version of the Hy-TN saga. “God, he’s such an idiot!” he laughed more than once when I shared with him some of TN’s more famous, stupid words. He filled me in on his, his girlfriend’s hangups about bi men and such, more of his dissertation stresses.
I enjoyed my coffee with him. I know I looked particularly fetching today – not a way I generally feel. My eyes framed with just the right amount of dark eye-makeup and mascara were a shade of blue I feel particularly lucky to have. My breasts, full and round, peaked out over my topless sundress, my arms covered in a casual grey cardigan. He wants me to meet his girlfriend — Internet cats girl — because he thinks she can do some work for me. I was reminded to not mention his secret proclivities for men to her, but apparently she knows “all about me,” whatever that means. I didn’t bother to ask.
I went to meet him not sure what he wanted from me. Was he single again? Did he want me to join them? What would I do if propositioned? I honestly can’t remember if I am committed to TN or not. How is that even possible? And I’m afraid to ask him because I’m loving this bubble we’re currently in.
I feel safe, loved, committed to, and cared about 90% of the time. Maybe 85%. Even a handful of months ago I didn’t feel loved at all, but now I do. He hugs me, talks to me, talks me down away from the edge. He pays for everything he can for me to help ease my financial burdens and is going to pay me to sell his car for him. I think if he could pay me for sex, he would.
He loves me, I’m more sure of it than ever, yet this knowledge doesn’t stop me from wanting other men almost to spite him for not saying the magic words. Seeing Jason today kicked the sleeping dragon awake. And I feel like an asshole. This is why even though I’ve been stable and faithful, I still feel my dissoluteness deep down, coursing through my blood. It’s part of why I want to fuck another couple.
I can never make him say, “I love you, Hyacinth,” but I sure as hell can spread my legs to someone else.