He was ill too, but had turned down my offers for any sort of assistance. The fever caught up with me a few days later. The Wifey and Uncle Cupcake both stopped by to look after me and bring me remedies and food. It struck me that Zig Zag and I are not close enough friends to merit that sort of confidence, nor are we good enough...well, anything else either, to have an implied understanding to care for each other .
I had nothing but time to mull things over as I lay in bed, feverish.
I remembered meeting one of his friends a few days before, at one of his shows. She was sitting with the singer's wife, and as we were introduced, it was very apparent to all present that she was not at all happy that I was there. I was a bit thrown by her chilly reception. She had been introduced as another one of (Zig Zag)'s "good friends". I did not miss the inflection and what it implied. There was definitely history there.
I've dated and befriended enough musicians to know that a certain air of "availability" can be part of the whole persona, so I've let Zig Zag dictate the level of familiarity we display in public. We weren't being particularly affectionate, but obviously his "friend" caught onto the fact that I wasn't just another show-goer, and was unhappy about it. As we were leaving after his set, I mentioned her reaction. He'd noticed it too and seemed baffled by it.
The next morning, he brought it up again, so I took the opportunity to ask what the nature of their relationship was. Just friends, coffee dates, movies, talks...it was beginning to sound somewhat familiar. He insisted she'd never given any indication that her feelings for him might be more than platonic. She had simply texted him the night before, asking what he was doing, and he'd invited her to the show.
I had to wonder...are men really that clueless? I had sensed she had more than platonic feelings for him within seconds of meeting her.
Days later, as I pondered this, it dawned on me...
He's a nice sensitive guy, very kind, smart, not one to jump into a physical relationship...and there is this ideal he has of the long-term partnership he wants. I could easily see him developing a string of intense, emotional relationships with female "friends", none of whom will ever live up to this ideal. By keeping things out of the sexual realm he is also absolved of any sort of obligation to them. They're "just friends", right?
I experienced a moment of such utter loneliness when I realized I could not comfortably call on him as a friend or as a lover, when I was feeling ill. It's one thing to be alone by choice, but to have the illusion of somebody being there and then realizing that they really aren't...It was just depressing!
I pictured myself in that girl's place, possibly months from now, wondering when and if this guy is ever going to see me as anything more than a friend.
I also found it infuriating that I cared.
I'm all for cuddle-buddies, bed-buddies, "just friends"---all of it---as long as there is an understanding between both parties, a mutually agreed-upon level of intimacy.
Right now I feel like a place-holder. An interesting little side-note in his search for "the one". (While I respect such dogged determination and adherence to an ideal, I don't share his beliefs that there is just "the one" person for each of us.)
Being mutual place-holders would not be such a bad thing. I'd benefit from having somebody around who is sweet and makes me re-examine my ideas and values, without sex getting in the way like it has for the past year and a half. He'd get to enjoy my charming company...
Considerable benefits for us both, n'est-ce pas?
It's the uncertainty that is maddening. If I knew for certain I was just a place-holder, I could enjoy the cuddling and making out, and still keep my options open. I could focus my energy on other things---personal growth, career, perhaps even a relationship that might actually go somewhere...
Asking him did nothing to allay my confusion.
My horoscope last week elicited a rather wry chuckle:
I posed the questions I had pondered in my delirium. He made perfectly reasonable observations and counter-points.
It wasn't until later that I felt like I'd been had.
He'd posed more questions than he'd answered and had deftly dodged what I thought was a pretty direct inquiry.
He doesn't rush into things...he hasn't really dated in a while...he's figuring out his own stuff...I've only recently come out of a relationship...I've been living an exclusively polyamorous lifestyle for the past year and a half and he doesn't think I'd change that overnight...
I could only address his external concerns regarding me.
Snow White...not even a blip on the radar. I was over that the moment the words "fucking faggot" escaped his lips (read Snow White vs The Tranny)...
As for the poly/mono thing...Monogamy is not a new concept in my life. I've done the serial monogamy thing when I was with partners that inspired me to such exclusivity. It's always been on a case-by-case basis, though (the last year or so excepted).
It seemed the stage was set for me to explore something like that again. I am certainly willing and, well...I like this guy. There are never any guarantees and it could be that as we get to know each other we discover that we are better off as friends, but for now...I like him in that butterflies-in-the-stomach-at-the-very-thought-of-him kind of way.
Ah, but now I'm a holding pattern and I don't know if he realizes I've put myself there for him. I'm in an "exclusive" nebulous non-relationship, with somebody who, I suspect, ruled me out as a potential partner from the very outset due to my polyamorous past.
Our conversations remain pretty casual. Our physical interactions could best be described in terms of "bases" (i.e. I'm not getting laid). He stands by his principles, by his determination to save the intense physical intimacy for that true partnership he is seeking.
Funny thing about a man's principles though---they become rather flexible when he starts getting head on a regular basis...
I've had my realizations, I've had my epiphanies...
I'm ready to get back up and running with my usual passion and gusto...in all areas of my life (a month and a half of no sex makes for a Cranky CoatCheck Girl).
I feel tethered by hope.
It's affecting my appetite and my sleep. When I do sleep, I have strange dreams. The last one featured Zig Zag saying goodbye to me via a letter left on my pillow, telling me he didn't want to see me again. In the envelope there was also a card, the inside of which was covered in postage stamps from different countries and different time periods.
I think my sub-conscious is telling me I need a new hobby...