My uncle’s memorial service was Friday evening.Truth be told, I think his service was something to smile about. There were so many people there…some old faces I hadn’t seen in years…some new faces who told great stories about Uncle Gary. We celebrated his life the way he wanted it done and, although it was a positive experience, I was ready for an adult beverage after leaving the funeral home.
I spent the majority of my free-time this weekend with Topher and Justice. I met them at a ‘restaurant’ called Show-Me’s (a local Hooter’s knock-off) after my dad drove me back to my car. From there, we headed to a trashy-dive to enjoy the rest of the evening.
Justice commented on my St. Sarafina posts exclaiming such excitement at my opportunity for closure with Ed. She also mentioned that she was proud of my growth. Sometimes it’s amazing getting reactions from friends who see me regularly. It allows me to reflect in ways that I can’t quite describe. Of course, the logical (in my married friend’s mind) next step was to talk about my current love life. Somewhere in the midst of this conversation the handsome and witty James began a racy text affair. Put any amount of alcohol in my system and I’m a fan of James again. A big fan. He invited me to his place for the evening. I declined. He offered to send a taxi to my spot and drive me to my car the next morning. I briefly reconsidered…but ended up declining.
At last call, Topher’s parents offered their chauffeuring services and drove us back to Topher and Justice’s house. Yes, we are in our late-twenties having parents taxi us around. It’s quite delightful. I crashed on the couch.
Upon waking, Justice showed me her mangled left hand. Unsure of how two of her nails were shredded (literally, it looked like an animal tried to chew them off her hand), she and I made an impromptu morning run to the nail salon. My Satur-day was pretty wide open. No reason not to go.
While there, my love life was once again visited. Her love life is contractually bound. Mine is more fun to dish about since it’s a little less certain. Justice, who knows my history far better than some, asked a question that I’m still rather surprised about.
Have you ever considered giving James another chance?
I think about it a lot.
We get each other in so many ways. We speak the same language. We like the same things. And, as much as I hate to admit it, he’s pretty fantastic in bed.
But the downside to our arrangement (because I sadly can’t call it a relationship) is that there is no desire on his end to make it more than just a booty call. While there are some advantages to a ‘no-strings attached’ agreement, I’ve been there and done that with him. In fact, he’s the only man for whom I’ve had such an arrangement. It’s just not the way I choose to live my life. I like and want commitment. I want to wake up next to someone without questioning when I’ll see him again. I want the kisses on the forehead, the wrap-around embrace, the mid-night struggle to decide if it’s worth it to try to steal more covers or leave them alone because he is happy. I want it all. No physical relationship compares to an emotional connection.
After explaining this to Justice, she started hurling other questions at me, all of which still about James. My James, who doesn’t fall asleep until I’ve scratched his back because his mom used to do this until he’d finally close his eyes. Who yells at the t.v. when the Cardinals are losing and instantly reminds me of my die-hard-fan family through his barrage. And, most importantly, who put me on a pedestal, where I sat for two years until I was ready to give myself to him. Obviously, her questions sparked some unresolved feelings. I’m still swimming through them tonight.
I want to give him another chance. I really, truly do. And, until he’s ready to make some sort of commitment to me, I can’t allow myself to surrender to those feelings. It’s not worth the mind-fuck.
Wait for him to keep pushing for the physical. I’m strong enough to say no and I’m not playing that game again. When his frustration starts to set in because of my refusal, he’ll ask for an explanation. It’s clockwork.
James, as much as I would love to come over and rock your world/bed/kitchen table, I can’t continue a cycle that has no advantages for me. When you’re ready to break away from the fear of commitment, if I’m still available at that point, I’ll be here waiting to discuss this (and rock your world). Until then, you’ll be making withdraws from your spank-bank.
Justice also mentioned that she has quite-the-catch of a cousin whom she’d like me to meet. I’m pretty effing hesitant to be paired by friends, but at this point, I have nothing to lose. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t semi-interested in seeing why she thinks we might be a match.
The point of this post is that I’m beginning to really question why I’m not currently involved with someone. Is it time to overcome issues with pride and allow others to help me find love? Probably. Is it something that I’m comfortable with? Nope. Should I keep looking forward and quit worrying about the gentlemen of my past? Duh.
While Justice is right about the fact that I deserve to be happy and should be looking for someone, I have to be fair and just with myself and avoid entering into already-troubled territory.
A judgment has been made. The verdict? James doesn’t deserve me, even though I really wish he did. The reasoning? Sometimes allowing someone to re-enter your life ends up being one of the best decisions you make. Unfortunately, those exceptions don’t justify testing the rule. I’m not an exception in this case.
But while all of these feelings/thoughts are great, I realized tonight that I never shared the very end of the James affair. That needs to change. It’s worth a read. I’m not getting action. Perhaps reminiscing will motivate me to get back into the dating scene.
Get ready for a little less theory and a little more sex. The blog is about to heat up again.