Goddamn it. I done did it again. I promised myself that I would keep my feelings in check and remain as neutral as possible about Mr. January, in an attempt to keep it as casual with him as humanly possible. Well. It all flew right out of my little window the minute Mr. J decided to come see me this weekend.The last time I hung out with him was back in April and I was sure that seeing him this weekend wouldn't really change my situation with him. I was wrong. The situation remains somewhat unchanged, however, my feelings have, in fact, evolved in an undesirable direction.
Mr. J called me just prior to parking in front of my apartment building and I took the elevator down to meet him in the lobby. He was looking great, leaning against his car, awaiting me. I gave him a welcoming hug and, as he wrapped his arms around me, I realized how much I've missed his hugs. We instantly reconnected - he was still that charming, funny, confident, sexy man I remember him to be. He was still that guy I was insanely attracted to. It was during our dinner at a quaint Irish restaurant and just before going dancing at a club (where, BY THE WAY, some random dude tried to offer us money for dancing at our table... joke or not, I was puzzled by that gesture, to say the least) that I decided that Mr. J will be the guy who's going to end my dry spell of a year and a half.
To say that we spent a magnificent night together would be an understatement, because I am pretty sure we were both quite spectacular. There might as well have been fireworks and a parade for us because, I think, this was the best romp I've ever had with anyone. And not to toot my own horn, but I am pretty sure that he had no complaints about me either.
Of course, in the heat of the drunken, passionate moment he said something last night to me that I kind of wish I would have been too drunk to remember. I am pretty sure he didn't mean it, but it was something that, instantly and inwardly, turned me into a big pile of mush. He asked me if I wanted to be his girl, and, naturally, I laughed it off as just another drunken statement, as a joke coming from a guy wanting to get into my pants.
However, this morning, as the sober clarity bestowed itself upon my mind, I realized that I DID want him to be serious. I did want him to ask me to be his girlfriend - long distance relationship or not - I wanted him all for myself, exclusively. I didn't want him to tell me about other girls, other crushes if he had any. I wanted him to be mine and mine only.
The scent of his Cartier cologne remained lingering in my hair long after he left to go home this morning. I thought about him constantly today, obsessing in thinking about the next time I might see him again, wondering whether our night together would ultimately change our friendship.
I think the best and the strongest romantic relationship you can ever develop is with a good friend. You've already got the foundation - similar interests, views and quirks. Even with physical attraction in the mix, sex does not become the focal point, but just strengthens the already existing bond. I've got both of those things - the physical and the mental connection - going with Mr. January. Deep inside, I am hoping he realizes sometime how good we would be together.
I can picture myself with Mr. January, frolicking happily in a field of flowers, surrounded by rainbows and unicorns but the near impossibility of such an outcome is already breaking my stupid heart that, somewhere along the way, managed to get itself into another strong emotional attachment.
Fuck.
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