The more that happens between B and me, the less I feel l should reveal here.
Last I wrote, B and I had spent a Saturday at my place. The following Thursday (we didn’t see each other in between), he picked me up from work and we headed into the city. I’d won tickets to a concert of Beatles music, so our bond over the Beatles continues to grow. B even brought a Beatles CD for the drive. “Are you going to sing along?” he asked. “Are you?” I returned. “Maybe,” he answered. “If you look out that window.” Yeah, we can’t really sing with abandon in front of each other yet.
We arrived several hours before the start of the concert because we had somewhere else we wanted to visit: the library. Neither of us had spent any large amount of time there, and B being a librarian, well, it’s only right that we go. We spent two hours there and it was lovely. We saw the orchestral scores–Rite of Spring with notations in Russian, and a bit of Lenny’s stuff, but it was separated by opera, ballet, Broadway, etc., so we couldn’t just go to B for Bernstein. We stopped in the Hormel Gay and Lesbian Resource Room and derided Chick-Fil-A. I’m amazed and delighted at the amount of writing there is about LGBT literature and other arts. All in one place. It made me wish that all the scared kids out there who feel alone could come here and wrap themselves up in acceptance and celebration. We went to the foreign language section and looked at Russian novels and magazines. I picked out a word here and there I could decipher and B recalled a bit of high school German, too. As I explored the library with him, I was very aware that it felt really good to hang out and be nerdy and that he made me laugh and that we didn’t have to be all couple-y.
We talked about where to go to eat and I said, “We should go somewhere with meat, so you have the option.” He said, “I can live without meat.” My automatic internal response? I love you. =) I don’t trust it yet, and haven’t said it out loud. But if it keeps finding its way into my thoughts, I may start believing it.
The concert was a lot of fun, and it was nice to hold hands the whole time. I put on lip balm and offered B some. He asked if he could have some without using the lip balm, but I wasn’t ready to kiss him in public yet.
We got back to my place at 11:30pm. Of course I invited him in–after spending hours making out on Saturday, it felt weird not to at least kiss. (Though I was really happy we could spend the whole day together and not kiss, too.) Yeah, we made out on the couch until 3am. It was pretty funny since B is so tall–there was some interesting maneuvering. Things are advancing. As in, below the belt but over the clothes (all B; I’m not that brave yet). I know I can tell him to cool it at any time and he’ll listen. Part of me is a detached, curious observer. What will happen next? How will it feel? So, I haven’t halted anything yet. We have fun, we laugh, we talk. I’m still surprised that we’re able to move so easily between hot and heavy and silly. That feels really good to me.
Friday I went over to his place about 4:30. He made us tea and we flipped through the IKEA catalogue. Then he offered to give me a tour. ;-) (The only room I hadn’t seen was his bedroom, of course.) And there we stayed the rest of the day and night and morning. I hadn’t intended to sleep over, but it got dark and neither of us felt like moving. We’ve entered that nauseating stage where we can share the same pillow and flutter our eyelashes on each other’s cheeks. But we don’t do it in that serious, lovey-dovey way. We do it in a silly, fun way. We talked about us a little. I pointed out that it had only been a week since he first kissed me, and he asked if I thought we were going too fast. I don’t have a yes or no answer to that question. I’m surprised at how quickly things have progressed. I’m okay with everything so far, but the idea of going any further is still nerve-wracking. Once, I had my hand inadvertently close to his groin and he asked what I would do if he moved it lower. I admitted I’d probably freak out a little, so he didn’t. (That’s just so…intimate and foreign, and like, I don’t want to be in control of a part of his body yet.)
Sleeping in the same bed went a little better than I expected. We stayed clothed in our regular clothes from the waist down and on top of the covers. (It’s August after all.) As I’ve mentioned, I’m not a great sleeper and I really like my own space. I wasn’t sure that I’d even be able to fall asleep with his arms around me, but eventually I did. We spooned, too, which was nice, and I woke up to his kisses on my shoulder. Yes, I worried about bad breath, and yes, he kissed me anyway. He brought me a book to read in bed while he made us breakfast.
So much good stuff. Lovely, amazing, fun stuff.
I feel a certainty that we’ll have sex relatively soon, but I also feel conflicted about that certainty. On one hand, adults who really, really like each other and who have been dating a while have sex. And on the other hand, there’s my adolescent and young adult notion that when I sleep with someone, our being in love with each other will be well-established. I know that I can wait as long as I need to, but I also don’t really want to wait. I don’t need to hear the words first, but I always thought I would. Being human is nothing if not complex.