DEFINITE MAYBE

AND NOW AGAIN another Month later, 10/25

Another beginning of another ending. We went to love parade, and the Decompression party, and then there was the invite to the group camping trip. How could I pass that up? I replied with my definite maybe, depending on what mood we might be in. We seemed to find a way to repair enough for each weekend. And then fall in till mid week when we’d stumble then crumble and crash, and then offer each other another round of comfort and reconnect just in time to accept another invitation to join the weekend crew. JF and V. in the center of it all again. So I said yes. I hadn’t been on his new RV after all. It was great. I loved it so. What other way to join this clan than with my man, we fit so well in that form. We had a beautiful time and got all caught up in the making of more momentum. Same crew was gathering again the following weekend to board the R.V. for a Halloween Fest. Of course I want to get dressed with the girls. We were going as 1920’s lesbians. Anais and June! By all means I’m on the RV. But then the middle of the week loomed and reality roared and I realized we were not allowing the letting go. Not even a little, with all these enticing weekend sweetnesses. So I called to cancel my inclusion in the weekend. And finished with my weak request, that he not call me again. At least for two weeks. It was all I could come up with in the moment.
“But we’ve been doing so well. What the hell?” Yes we had, but to what end? Repeatedly it’s been confirmed, we’re not getting back together, just slowing down our dissolve. I can’t live like that. He said he understood, and Happy Birthday, (just less than two weeks away.) Okay, I allowed. We can manage a birthday reprieve. So 10/25 to 11/6 we dedicated to our silence. Texts might be all right. At least 25 texts came in in that time.

Finally on the evening of the 6^th we met to go on my ideal date. He picked me up at the coffee shop in Hayes valley in his RV, and we drove over the GG Bridge to Nick’s Shanti Cove, a classic waterfront fisherman’s dive now fine restaurant an hour north in Marshall. After an elegant dinner out, champagne and tears, oysters and espressos, we pulled into Samuel P Taylor camp ground for our overnight adventure. And made the most of our missing each other. My Oh my, but that man has my number. We played and slept and woke and played and slept. We had breakfast at the campground, walked to the streams edge. Played and took photos and made more use of the R.V. before making it to Point Reyes for lunch and then to Frogs in Fairfax for an afternoon soak in the hot tub hideout. Home to catch a movie and more cuddling in. Ideal.

We had made it through the two weeks. Now what? All rules were off. What was I supposed to expect this round?

I had a date with my sister on the 8^th, and a girlfriend on the 9^th, a wedding on the 10^th and my birthday party on the 11^th. I invited A. We danced. I swooned. My friends began to be charmed by him again. They turned in their doubts and renewed their approval. We looked adorable. We felt just right. He was tall and strong to my tango dips, sweet and smiling to my clumsy trips. We fit right in. (Busy all Monday. Dinner with an ex on Tuesday, Film with a girlfriend on Wednesday and extended birthday dinner with D. on Thursday) It was Friday already before we found ourselves open. I called. Maybe he’d be free. “Maybe?” doesn’t work for me. What about lunch? He was slow to respond. Lunch okay. But then well after noon, my mood had turned. “I don’t want to see you” I recoiled. I didn’t need to explode on him again. Wait until this bitterness subsides.

I went out for a long stroll, and he called again. Why was I so upset? Cause I have no say in this play. I feel powerless to his whim of intermittent motivation. I can’t request cause I’ve stated over and over I can’t accept, so I have to coyly wait until he pleads past my stubborn front. Please plead. I want more of you, I need each text and call and nudge that I pretend to push away. But I don’t want a little. I want a lot. I am not satisfied with the crumbs. I want the whole pie. I want what I want, and not some sad compromise. I was mad again. “Just bye,” my reply. But I didn’t want to pout it out all by myself. When he called again, I stammered “Pick me up.” I’ll be at the Can’t Fail Café. He arrived in short time to share in my grimace and growl. He tried weakly to make his case. He’s been nothing but good to me, he reasoned, he loves me deeply. Then take me truly, fully, hold on and don't let go. Though it seems he's just not willing to take that step, forward or back. Well then, if he can’t choose me he can’t have me.

NOW NOVEMBER 18^th,

I spent that week gasping for another breath of it, as I checked and checked for another text. I felt the silence expand between those beeps. And had to admit his contact kept me afloat, with a palpable loft every time he called. And he was good about it. I could count on my morning afternoon and nightly call. Why wasn’t that enough.

Is there any other option? Should I have been more expressive, and tried harder to make my case. Is there more room to meet in the middle? Is there any other angle of approach? Or is this just the truth I have to get used to in the time it takes. Starting now.

And then again…….