We have to talk. Few words can scare the crap out of us like those. And even if you assure someone that it’s nothing bad or serious, the moment they hear them, the agony has started. But first, let me give you a little background info.
I started seeing someone a few weeks ago. I don’t really know when to count as the start of us dating. First kiss? First date? First time we held hands in public? No idea. Anyways, things between us are very casual, we always use the word “friend” when referring to one another, specially when it comes time to introduce the other one to a friend or relative. As I referred to it the other day, we’re moving at a basically glacial pace. Him, because he only recently broke things off definitely with his ex girlfriend, me because I’ve only ever had one relationship, and it ended almost 5 years ago, so I don’t know if I know how to be someone’s girlfriend. He’s a nice guy. Actually, scratch that, he’s a great guy. He’s sweet, he likes meeting the people in my life (which includes a ridiculously high amount of gay men) and he’s a pretty upfront guy who, to put icing on the cake, is a few months away from graduating as a chef, so he loves cooking for me. Most of the time I’m blissfully unaware of how much I care about him, until something happens that makes me feel like he might vanish. The first time was when he confessed that he actually wondered if dating me was the right thing, instead of taking a break from relationships and just being alone. When it came down to it, he said he’d rather not risk losing me, and wanted to continue dating me, but taking things in the aforementioned glacial pace. Immediately after that (as in, the next day) came that time of the month, and all my unbelievably high and sturdy walls came crumbling down and I allowed myself to be vulnerable and want him. Unfortunately, given the fact that this moment of vulnerability came after we had agreed that we were going to take things slow, he greatly misunderstood my emotional state and thought I was afraid of losing him, prompting him to respond with “I thought we were going to take things slow” to my hugging him from behind as he peeled carrots over the trash can. Not his finest moment. I backed away as if I’d been burned, and in a way, I had been. That week was hell for me. How could I bring myself to make any type of gesture towards him, if all I could think of was that I’d be rejected? Anyways, the moment that hormonal week of hell was over, I was back to my old self, splashing his face with a little water as he came in for a kiss in the kitchen. “This is what you wanted,” I said, “the abuse is back”.
That was on Sunday night. Today is Thursday. Last night, he said that he wanted to tell me something, but he wanted to do it in person. “What is it about?” I asked. “Just wait ‘til I see you”. I, of course, have thought of every possible scenario, specially the one where he wants to stop seeing me. He texted me today that he needed a massage. I texted back “So, I guess that means that what you have to tell me isn’t that you want to stop seeing me, right?” His answer? “Wait ‘til I get there!”. No reassurance that that wasn’t what he wanted to talk to me about. But then I tell myself, if that IS what he wants to tell me, he’s not really gonna have the gall to ask me for a massage afterwards, right? Sure, there’s always the chance that he wants to tell me something nice, like that he’s developing feelings for me or that he wants to maybe speed things up a little but, really, when was the last time somebody told you that they needed to talk to you and it turned out to be something good? Exactly, you can’t remember. I think I have a right to be worried. Right?
On Tuesday I was talking to a friend, a woman who after two marriages, had started dating someone, and was a little hesitant about it. “Why do I keep waiting for the shoe to drop?“, she asked me. My response? “Because it usually does“.