allegro

They do love me. Sometimes, too much.

#3 is back, sorta. Whole bunch of us friends were out drinking for another friend's birthday a couple of weeks ago. He comes out, his wife stays home.

You should know, his lovely wife did not deal all that well. When we said we'd stop for her sake, it didn't end with that. She had to hate me a little because her trust with her man was injured (despite his honesty with her). It's easier to hate me than blame him, so she hated me. Also, she can't help but fear I'm stealing not only her husband, but her best friend as well. I adored her, so it stung a lot. Now #3, who's friendship is ridiculously important to me, and Amanda, who as you know reemerged as primary lady interest, but run from me when she's around to make sure she's comfortable, with the hope that she'll eventually calm down. It's not the speediest process, and for every step forward, it seems like there's two steps back. I'm hurting, and I can't do anything for it. My man is still good to me.

She started to calm down. It's exciting. Even so, #3 not bringing the lovely and talented wife means Amanda is more flirtatious in public (and more open to my touch) and #3 is chatty and friendly. It's karaoke night, so we're both singing songs off these CDs we made like we used to once not too long ago, a private musical language of sorts. I sing "The Metro" by Berlin.

Key line: I remember hating you for loving me.

I sing the Kinks' "You Really Got Me" for Amanda. I was sassy like that.

#3 really wants to talk. He wants to talk in private. We talk in public plenty. I keep stealing away to my boyfriend for the kisses of reminder (I'm still yours) but #3 is taking up most of my time.

On one smoking break that brings my #1 outside with Amanda, her J, and several other friends, #3 (who just quit) steals me away to a private corner in the dark, to a closed section of the restaurant. I'm nervous. We talk. I finally get to talk about the weirdness I experienced in being "left" like this. The slight return of our flirting backstage (which celebrates our friendship while acknowledging the desire that's unspoken in still incredible strong) makes this easier. I can tell him I think I'll always want him, and he can tell me the same. We do. I find out he cried the whole time when he called me to tell me we had to stop. I can tell he still loves me, but maybe not quite as much. It's hard to tell with how he kissed me.

The kisses are as powerful as ever. They are still the best that any kiss could be.
I hate him a little for it. Why is he kissing me here in the dark? He made a promise, and he should keep it. I had finally started to rid him from my mind as a permanent fixture, and here he is, back again to torment me with his perfect manner, strong body, magical ideals and beautiful face, the hopeless romantic yearning for me. Moreover, his wife is just starting to like me again and he's going to ruin it, I'm so sure.

I didn't lie when I told him I'd stop loving him. I still not there yet, but I love him less. Differently. I could easily love him again.

I still want to tell him that I'll love him again when we are both widowed. I will.

I stop the kiss. Then a guy from the bar kicks us out of out private corner. #3 tries to kiss me again behind a pole. Who comes up behind but my #1?
He knows we're canoodling. I wish I didn't want so hard to hide it.

In talking to #3 (increasing drunk and amusing) he goes to elucidate more of why his wife came to hate me so much so suddenly when she had been fine. He thinks is had so much to do with that party when I dragged the host to a room and her J kept coming in to join the play (remember that painful incident?). Hearing about this, and reflecting on this, gave her a very bad impression of me.

Well, I understand that. Turns out one badly thought out sexual act sought out with some desperation cut short a completely separate beautiful affair. Look ma, I can understand unexpected consequences!
This upset me quite a bit in a way that troubled me for days, but enough on that.

On the car ride home, #1 and #3 are both very drunk and happy. We get to #3's apartment and my man claims a desperate need to potty. He runs to the side of the apartment. #3 steals another kiss before leaving the car. Stealing is right. I love it, I love it, I hate it, I love it.

#1 gets back in the car. #3 goes home to his beautiful, talented wife. I don't tell him about the kiss, just like I didn't tell him about the kissing in the bar in the dark.

But then he points out that he never had to pee and that he was giving me another chance to kiss #3.
I almost cry. I love my man so much.

I get to say truthfully that I didn't kiss him, that he kissed me instead. I tell him why it's frustrating that he did it too, in how #3 seems determined to make himself a bigger distraction when things were already set.

My love and I have a good night together wrapped around each other.