i christened her Cath, for cathedral, because of her eyes.
Cath and i have seen each other four times since returning from DC: three times in our cars, once at my home where we spent the entire day talking, touching and making love. i have fallen in love with her, and am somewhat angered, surprised by the fact that i can love again, but in a pleasantly mocking way. i check in with myself after telling her how much she means to me, how much i love her, and expect the backlash that occurred with KT (and others), the one where i realized i had made up affection for the other person, affection that i did not truly feel.
Each check in reveals sincerity; what do i do with this? It sucks because she is married and really doesn't want to change the life her kids have. At times i feel if left to her own devices, she will leave her marriage, and yet, that isn't a comforting thought. i do not want to be seen in the same way i see KT, as the ruination of something that seemed useless (my marriage) but in reality was just hibernating (the love). Even if Cath does not end up seeing me that way, she will go through so much pain that i am not sure a relationship can be built.
Mixed in this recipe is the maudlin encounters i have with ExA each Saturday when The Sea plays soccer. Her next one is there, and that concept of Bizzaro World weighs heavily in me. And she will still talk with me about aspects of her life as if we were married, whether it be her being contacted by her bio father's son or the fact that her back troubles are finally being diagnosed. i find it more Bizzaro that she confides these things to me, and have all i can do not to bluntly tell her that i do not need to fulfill that role anymore, that she relinquished me.
In the category of Things I Am Not proud Of, last night I spent time with my dear friend Metaphorman, and we were occasionally accompanied at times by his roommate and a friend of hers i have known peripherally, an attractive 30 year old who works for the company we do. We ended the night drinking at his house, until his roommate retired to bed and i said good night and left for home.
i was home ten minutes before he called me and told me to text the roommate's friend, that i was assured she'd fuck me. After being assured that he was not setting me up, i humored him, took her number and left it alone. He calls back five minutes later:
Metaphorman: I am telling you, she.will.fuck.you.
me: I don't know, i am really in love with Cath,....
Metaphorman: And she's at home, with her husband, probably fucking him, so why can't you?
Hard logic to refute.
i text her, innocuously ask if she is still at Metaphorman's. She replies that she is and that i should come back. i text, "okay..." and she replies, "Sounds good."
i am excited, hesitant and jaded, but i redress, hop in my car and return. Metaphorman is glad to see me, smiles as he shuts off all of the lights in his downstairs and indicates that she is in the guest bedroom. The bedroom is dark, and she's sleeping peacefully, and for a moment i debate just leaving.
i am 42 years old- this never happened to me in high school, college, ever. And while part of me wonders if i am pursuing this to make up for what my past lacked, it isn't that, it's the fact that i love a woman's taste, the heat of their skin, the delicateness of their lips, the whole symphony of pleasure that is sex, witnessing it first hand, seeing how far.
i slide into the bed, hoping that she will not awaken, and i will just watch her sleep, but in a few seconds she wakes, giggles about falling asleep and then starts kissing me. Immediately, the kissing is not what i enjoy- it's quick, sloppy and too much tongue; i take part like it will save my life. She is wearing her dress but without underwear, we caress, writhe, dance. Everything we do is the opposite of what i have found in Cath, and i remind myself that what this is has nothing to do with emotion, love, spirit.... i now know, for sure, after my year of sex with KT and a few other encounters the difference between sex and making love. i lie to myself that i do not enjoy sex without some sort of spiritual connection.
i cannot rise to the occasion, but she is understanding and allows me to explore her with my hands and tongue, enjoying it immensely. Then we talk about movies for an hour until i locate my clothing, dress and leave.
The town is dark and silent save the occasional car as i drive up route 1 to my home. Conflict rises in me, but is dismissed... it is what it is.
And i long for the love i had with ExA, when i believed in something special.
