‘Dating Chronicles’ is a bit of a misnomer this time. Our dinner tonight was not a date, but a chance for two friends to catch up after prolonged absence from one another’s lives.
When I contacted him last week, I was not sure how T would respond to hearing from me out of the blue after a year and a half. At worst I thought he might tell me to leave him alone. At best perhaps he would ignore me all together. I had almost unsent the message just ten minutes before he replied. He was pleased I had reached out. Excited, even. We sent messages back and forth all evening and I asked if he’d be interested in meeting up for dinner. “Fuck yeah!” He said. “When?! Name the spot!”
We agreed to meet at his house so that I could see his dog, too. I had missed that sweet baby, and was almost as excited to see him as I was his human.
I spent much of today getting ready, emotionally as well as physically. I was so looking forward to seeing T, but fuck me was I nervous. I wanted to look good when I saw him. I agonized over what to wear (with much helpful input from friends), spent ages fixing my hair and make-up. This wasn’t a date, but I was going to make myself feel pretty enough for one. I needed to feel confident for this. I have lingering memories of crying helplessly after our last meeting and I was going to set myself up for success this time, just in case those old feelings of despair and loss tried to creep back in.
As I drove to his house I felt nauseous. My nerves were all over the place, stomach in knots. Still excited but terrified in almost equal measure. As I pulled up to the house I could see him, standing in his dining room. Was he watching for me? I couldn’t tell. I could see his dog, too! Peeking through the living room window. His barks announced my arrival.
T opened the front door, he looked just the same. I greeted the dog first, obviously. Then T and I hugged each other tightly. He felt the same. Smelled the same. It was like going home.
He showed me around his place, he had changed some things since I was last there. It looked great! Lovely to see him so settled into his space. I saw a picture I bought for him, up on the wall. Then I noticed a picture of the two of us on his shelf, accompanied by a Valentine’s card I’d sent him. It caught me by surprise and I felt a lump in my throat, but swallowed it down. I did not expect to see my face in his living room. I had assumed he’d have gotten rid of those things long ago. But he kept them, out in the open. They mattered to him. I mattered.
We went to dinner. It was lovely. We chatted and laughed. Reminisced a bit. It was easy. My nerves were still shredded and I couldn’t bring myself to eat very much, but I was enjoying myself all the same. I wasn’t there for the food anyway, I was there to see him.
I told him how good it was to see him, that I’d missed him. I told him that I understood that my non-monogamy is a deal-breaker for him but that if he ever changed his mind about that, this door was always unlocked for him – should he choose to open it. I told him he didn’t even have to knock, just kick it down. Any time. I’ll be here. And I meant it.
After dinner, we went back to the house and hung out for a little while. I didn’t want to outstay my welcome so I only visited for a short time. More talking, more laughing. Fuck, I have badly missed laughing with him. I’ve missed it all.
I got ready to leave, and we hugged again. Tighter, this time, and for longer. We clung on to each other as though we were afraid something could tear us apart. “Till the end”, I told him, and kissed him on the cheek. “Love you.” “Love you too”.
I drove home smiling. When we broke up almost two years ago, I could only see what I had lost. Now, with the benefit of time and space, I see what I still have. We are two people who utterly adore one another, right to our cores. I can’t have him as my partner, but I am so grateful to have him as my friend.
I love his bones. Till the end.
Fat and Slutty 