Transition...

I feel like I'm constantly torn between two ideas, circumstances, or viewpoints. The big picture is: I need to distract myself from thinking about him or re-playing our past or fantasizing about a hopeless nonexistent future because all these things are harmful to me. I finally understand it well enough that thoughts of our future have pretty much ceased (perhaps that's the closest to "closure" that I've ever gotten), but that doesn't stop me from remembering our good times and him being present in my thoughts in the simple "Wonder what he's up to" ways.

Even the last time that I saw him a few days ago, when I forced him to drive all the way to my house just so I could see his face while we talked about serious things (since there's only so much you can gather from a phone conversation), I can file away as a "good time." It would be so much easier to move on, get over him, if he were just a fucking jerk like, well, J(erk)! But, alas, Dr. Shark is not a jerk.

He was patient, understanding, and a good listener like he's always been. But he remained firm in his opinions of himself and romantic relationships in that he just didn't want and can't handle them. He didn't see what was happening between us at that moment as a break up like I did... He saw it as a natural transition into friendship since that's all it could be, unless I wanted to cut off communication completely (to which he said he would understand).

Seeing his face while hearing his words made me finally get it. He's one of those unattainable guys that girls like me will always long for... but I can no longer allow myself to fall vulnerable to it.

While he was on his way to my house (takes about an hour and a half driving time), I paced back and forth, solidifying my convictions. I was going to get all the answers about his ex-girlfriend and his future baby that I needed to help me move on. I was going to drain every ounce of his thoughts on why he didn't see us making it as a couple. I was going to punish him by letting him see how much he hurt me by even coming into my life and now trying to leave it as if nothing had happened.

I was so convinced that I could accomplish all this...

...Until he walked in my door and immediately wrapped me in his long, solid arms. "I'm sorry I was so grumpy with you," he mumbled into my hair as my face pressed up against his chest.

Goddamnhim.

I couldn't stop shaking after that. I expected him to be short with me and only give monosyllabic answers to my questions... Basically, I imagined the evening to resemble an interrogation room. But for the first half hour or so, he had to try to get me to talk while I fought back the tears that I swore I wouldn't show him. He spoke to me like he would to an injured animal (which I imagine he has experience of since he's single-handedly rescued and brought two abandoned kittens to the glorious lives they both currently have with him, so sexy), and offered gentle and kind words of not so gentle and kind ideas.

Maybe he saw that there was no way to get me to open up at that moment because I was so terrified and confused, so he reached over and embraced me on the couch. We sat there for a moment and I didn't want--no, couldn't--let him go. He pulled away slightly so we could see each other's faces... and then I slid my hand behind his neck and pulled him in to kiss me.

There was no reluctance or hesitation from either of us. The millisecond his lips reached mine we hungrily went for it. Thinking back, he probably wanted it too... if anything, to at least break the tension. But he wouldn't have made the first move in fear of hurting me anymore. Goddamnhim and his niceness. There was one point before the actual sex that he breathily asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this, and I replied by unzipping his pants.

Needless to say, it was the most intense sex of my life. We've always had really, really great sex, but this night and many of them leading up to it was so tense and emotional that there wasn't any possible way that it wouldn't be crazy.

We were able to relax and have good, friendly conversation after tha (about not so good or friendly things), and we even cooked breakfast-for-dinner together. It was reminiscent of our first "date" when I also cooked chocolate chip pancakes for him, although that time was for actual breakfast. If decades from now he can only remember two things about me, I hope that he remembers how good I was in both the bedroom and the kitchen! I kind of take pride in my ability in both.

When he finally had to leave, he kissed me on the lips and told me that this wasn't goodbye. We didn't really establish what would happen... although I know that romantic, emotional attachment to him is now useless, so I feel that that evening accomplished what I needed. Maybe we can remain friends, maybe we can't. But it's not something that we can consciously decide to do in one night. These things take time.

So, back to what I was saying at the beginning of this post, I need distractions. I'm joining some fitness classes and hanging out with friends more, but I feel that that's not enough. But is it safe or smart to try to start dating again so soon? That might be giving any future suitors the shit end of the stick...