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Twig’s Guide to Becoming an Uber-Slut

May 7, 2014

Or, Did I Call That One or WHAT?!

After physical therapy today, I made my way to the grocery store and then to Round One’s place.

“I can’t wait to see you tonight!” Round One had texted me earlier.

I bounced out of the grocery store, happy to be heading to my non-boyfriend boyfriend’s house to cook dinner with him.

Dinner was, of course, fantastic, and grain-free. We were in his bed later after another quality hayroll when he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I did it again. I don’t want to rush you.”

“Hon, if I felt rushed, I’d tell you. I didn’t plan things to be this way, either.” I smiled at him and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, but only a little, and the smile he gave me felt forced. “Oh,” I said, sitting up. “You feel rushed, don’t you?”

He didn’t look me in the eye as he sat up and said, “Yeah, I do. I’m not ready for any kind of commitment, Twig.”

At least look me in the eye when you’re done using me, you prick. “It’s okay,” I told him, still studying his face and noticing all too clearly that he still wasn’t looking at me.

“I want a partner,” he continued, “but I don’t want to be in a relationship right now. I need to get my life more together still, and I need to not be thinking about my ex.” Still no eye contact. I watched him all the more as a result.

I sighed. “We can, you know, just be friends; if that’s what you want, then that’s all there has to be. I can be your partner in crime. There doesn’t have to be intimacy between us.” It was killing me to say it, but since I’ve had a lot of practice being shown the door, I pulled the bullshit off without a hitch.

“That’s what I want. And I don’t want to hold you back from going out with anyone. I’m not going to ask you to wait for me,” he said and sighed a little. Good, because I won’t be here for you like that anymore when you finally realize you let me go by mistake.

I put my hand on his face and pushed it a little so he had to look me in the eye finally. “I wish you’d have told me this before we ended up sweaty and naked in your bed again, though. That really wasn’t very fair.”

I got another forced smile in return for my words. “It wasn’t like that… it just dirt of hit me today. And it was bothering me. So I wanted to talk about it.”

I didn’t tell him that he would have been better off being more direct from the get-go, not putting his “I’m not ready for a relationship” bullshit on me like I’m the one who decided that for us. “I’m glad you’re telling me now, then,” I told him simply.

“Are you okay with this?”

” Yeah, dude. It’s fine. Trust me, not a lot bothers me.”

“How come?” he asked.

“To put it simply,” I replied, “It doesn’t matter whether or not I am okay with this. Just trust me when I say it’s fine and that I’m… used to it. It’s hard to explain. Besides, I think you’re right that you should take more time to sort through your head. I’m okay with us being friends. I will happily be your partner in crime without us being together.” I meant the last bit sincerely, though it still hurt to say out loud.

“Everyone at work has been asking about you,” he said. Wait what? There I was, getting dumped, more or less, and he follows it up with that. I said nothing in response, because, really, what was there left to say?

At my car, he asked me what we were going to do this weekend, but I didn’t have any great ideas. I only wanted to leave and break the awkwardness between us. He kissed me goodbye, still on the lips. I expect, though, that it will have been the last kiss between us. Whatever. A text the next morning will suggest that it wasn’t our last kiss, that somehow we are still more than friends.

But I’ve been down this road before too many times. I’m always good enough to boink, but not good enough to settle down with.

I shouldn’t have slept with Round One, but at least there’s a lesson here: Quit being so goddamn easy.

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