Last night, by the time I’d already figured I was in for the night, I got a phone call from an ex-boyfriend. I missed the call, but he left a voicemail message saying that he was on his way to Chicago, staying overnight at a friend’s, and then taking an early flight somewhere the next morning. Did I want to get together for a drink? He’d be in around 11:30.
11:30 is WAAAAY past a time when I would even consider going out. Normally. But, I’d been having bouts of insomnia lately and had taken a long nap that afternoon. I hadn’t seen him for a very long time (though we email each other occasionally). So, I figured what the heck.
By the time we ended up getting together it was past midnight, but the friend’s apartment was near a bunch of bars and restaurants, so we walked to find a place to hang. The friend was actually out of town and was letting him use the apartment for the night. Anyway…
Even though a lot of the bars were still open, there didn’t seem to be any places still serving food and the bars were *packed*. And *loud*. Blah blah blah, eventually we did find a bar, even seats, and had a few drinks.
A little background: I dated this guy for a little over a year, which might not seem that long, but we saw each other almost every day during that time. I was completely head over heels for him. I honestly believe he felt the same way about me, too, only for a much shorter period of time than I did. By the time he broke up with me, I *should* have known that we weren’t good for one another. That we should have broken up much earlier. I guess I did know, really, I just didn’t want to know it. He wasn’t the best boyfriend. Last night I spent a lot of time telling him all the ways he was really not very nice to me a lot of the time. And even then I left out a LOT of the really hurtful things he said or did because even though I was telling him all this, it was a teasing playful type of conversation. Nevertheless, when he broke up with me I was still crazy about him, so he broke my heart. I am not at all sure how much this has to do with all of that, but it is important additional information… he was INCREDIBLE in bed.
Ok, so that’s a bit subjective. We did end up fooling around and having sex after going back to his friend’s apartment. I had NOT planned on that. I really thought he had no interest in me, physically, at all anymore. A hint of suspicion rose up in my head when he invited me up to the apartment, but then I realized that he wanted a ride to the airport in a couple of hours.
I know that we had some really good happy times when we were dating, but I have a tendency to always remember one of the bad times, too, whenever I think back on our relationship. It sours the memories somewhat. On the other hand, I clearly remembered having really really good sex. I figured that that wasn’t completely accurate either, just like I know we DID have happy times as well as not-so-happy ones even though that’s not how my memories play in my head. I figured I’d exaggerated his, well, talent (and that’s not a euphemism) for making me feel amazing. No such luck. I remembered correctly.
Anyway… as I was starting to say about it being subjective. Right. Of course not every woman will enjoy exactly the same touches, moves, kisses, etc. But, I don’t think that’s what makes him so good. I think he’s just really good at being able to read a woman’s body language and reactions to things. And he remembers what worked and what didn’t for the next time.
He is a really fucking incredible kisser.
I’ve been lucky in my dating forays to have had a lot of really better than average sex. (Is that an oxymoron? How can it always be better than average? Do you suppose I can’t find someone who wants to DATE me because my mind goes off on tangents like this?) I haven’t found a really great kisser, though. I’ve had some awful kissers. Some good ones. But not great. THAT I’m pretty sure IS entirely subjective, though. Oh my, I miss his kisses.
He does have a steady/serious girlfriend right now. They have an open arrangement, though, so it’s not like he was “cheating” on her last night. My mom was worried when she heard I was going to meet up with him that I was setting myself up to be hurt again. It’s not like that anymore. I’m not in love with him. I love him. Meaning — this is my favorite definition of love — I’d be REALLY upset if I heard that he fell out of a third floor window. I like him, most of the time. But, the yearning to be in a romantic relationship with him is completely gone. I’m extremely lucky that he’s in the sort of relationship where he is able to have sex with me without causing anyone pain.
Hmmm… I’m pretty sure I was going somewhere with all of this and now I have no clue where that was. So, maybe I’ll remember and write more later.
