While I have been sick for the past three days with some type of virus, it has given me a lot of time to think about this Mr. X character mentioned in Not all that Glitters is Gold.
As aforementioned, he is a really nice guy. With more talking and curiosity, I decided to ask this man what this was; this thing that happened over the weekend. I have at this point developed feelings for the guy. Deeper feelings than just “hey, wanna fuck?” The sparks may have been back, but I knew getting down to the nitty gritty with him would probably throw him for a loop. So, this is what I said. It was to the point, no bullshit:
Hey, I just wanted to make sure that the other night wasn’t just meaningless sex to you. Over the last month or so, since we have been talking, I have started really caring about you again. Now I’m not asking for a relationship (unless that’s what you want), but I just want you to know that the other night meant something to me. I care for you, and call me crazy, but it’s clear that I like you. Again.
Shit. What did I just say? Did I ruin it? He works a different shift than me, so of course I say this right after he falls asleep for the day. After waiting all day for a reply, it came through: a two page message that served me well. He wants to see me push myself a little further. Not for him but for me. He will still be my friend (or fuck buddy) or whatever you want to call it. However, if I want to be his, I need to forget about him, and focus on achieving excellence for myself.
The conversation continued. At this point, we have agreed to be “friends with benefits.” Now I don’t know about the typical gay male, but I have limits and boundaries when it comes to a friendly beneficiary. When it comes to being my friend with benefits, these are the things I strive for:
- Don’t be a slut. I have given you this “no strings attached” option because I’m stupid enough as it is. Don’t ruin it by having sex with a bunch of guys.
- If you’re going to hang with another guy, tell me and by all means use protection (even though I guarantee I will be a jealous bitch).
- Be honest. I can’t stress this one enough. As much as it might suck that he’s not there for me all the time, it will suck more if I contract HIV because your dumbass didn’t use protection or didn’t tell me something.
- Dont do it. Friends with benefits is a terrible idea.
So then get this: the Fourth of July weekend is coming up and he supposedly had the house to himself all weekend. He told me that he would be around and we would most likely hangout, drink some beers, smoke a bunch of cigarettes, and chill in his hot tub. On Tuesday, I told my family that I will not be attending the yearly family Fourth of July get together at the cottage. Instead, I would rather be with the one who makes me happy, even if I’m basically living in a polyamorous relationship (that he just doesn’t want to put a label on). Doesn’t that sound like a perfect weekend?
It did to me, too, until today. It took three days for something to come up. He messages me today and says, “It was last minute but my friend from the air force wants me to house sit with him in [said out of town city].”
So we go thru the checklist from earlier. Did he tell me that he was going to hang out with this guy? Yes. Is he going to be a slut? Well, I guess that’s where my own insecurity has brought me to, so I’m gonna go ahead and say he’s probably going to get with this guy. I mean, he is in the Air Force, probably has a nicer body than me, and probably will seduce my friendly beneficiary. At this point, why am I even committing myself to this supposed friends with benefits scenario? After talking longer, I find out that they have been talking for six years. Okay… Cool. This is when the jealous bitch as mentioned earlier starts coming out in me. It is beginning to get hard to bite my tongue.
Then, we got into smaller talk. Since the conversation about ditching me for some hottie military stud, I have been pretty quiet. I can’t help but sit here and ponder this one question:
Is this a friendly beneficiary, or was that just a one night stand?
Congrats, Mr. X. You have officially mindfucked me.
Speaking of the military, I am sick of listening to my mom play Call of Duty. I’m gonna go pour a bowl of Cheerios and sit in the bathtub with a lit candle. By myself. Because I’m pretty sure I got screwed over (literally and metaphorically) this weekend. By my high school sweetheart.