A weekend in August

August 24th: B and I went to dinner and another musical. I was in charge of reading the directions and did so, but they were wrong, so we got off the freeway somewhere weird. We have a tendency to stay too long at the meal and then be rushing for the curtain (don’t end up budgeting enough for traffic, parking, etc.). I feel extremely stressed at being late, especially to something like a show. So this was a tense moment–I felt like it was my fault, sort of, and thought we should go back. B made his way there without the directions, me worrying all the way that we were just going to get more lost. It all worked out, and we didn’t snap at each other. Plus, I learned a good lesson about pre-printed directions (make sure the driver reads through them all the way beforehand).

I was still in pre-menstrual mode and I had to let B know that my breasts were too tender to be touched and that I was wearing a cloth liner. Not sure if he really knew what that meant, but I didn’t want him to be surprised if his hand wandered that way and felt something extra. He stayed over Friday night and at some point in the middle of the night we were both awake and making out. I had my second go at the art of manual stimulation. He really worried about my hand getting tired, and I said that that hand has had lots of practice doing something similar. Then I said something about it usually not taking me very long. All while my hand was still moving. He said he was enjoying it, and I said, “That’s good,” but later I wondered if he’d intended to say, “I’m enjoying it, but it’s not going to happen now,” or something. Eventually, when I asked him if I should stop he said yes.

August 25th. In the morning I said, “I need to retract something I said last night. About it not taking me very long? Well, it does sometimes, and I didn’t want you to expect…” And B said something like, “No, I know, that’s when it’s you.” I was relieved that he understood. Somewhere in our discussion, B started referring to the act as “making Baked Al.aska.” So I was saying things like, “I don’t know how it’ll be when it’s your turn in the kitchen.” =)

We went to the farmer’s market, and for the first time, I introduced B as my boyfriend (to my peach guy). B stayed all day. We ate goodies from the market, watched a French movie on Net.flix, and spent time in my room.

I stayed clothed, with my silly bra on (something thicker than I usually wear, which we began to refer to as my “‘don’t touch me’ bra”). After the events of Sunday and Wednesday I felt like I wanted to tell B that I love him. But it’s a big, scary thing to say. I kept thinking how we’d only officially been dating for a month. We were lying in bed being all smoochy, and I worked my way up to it. I kept sighing into his neck, and B kept saying, “Y-e-e-e-s?” Finally, I said it softly in Russian: Ya lyooblyoo tebya. Kind of whispering it to myself–maybe it’s easier if it isn’t in English. When I said it louder, B played along saying, “Really?” And I answered, “Yeah, pretty sure. Been thinking about it for a while.” Eventually, after more sighs and deep breaths, I said, “‘Ya lyooblyoo tebya’ means ‘I…love you’.” And he said quietly, “I love you too.” I paused and said, “That’s good.” (Suppressing “You do? Really?” and choosing to believe it.)

He stayed until 11pm that Saturday, and came over again on Tuesday night.

August 28th. When I got home from work Tuesday night, B brought over dinner and a (German) movie. The movie ended late, so we saved the mystery dessert he’d made for next time. We lay on the couch together and he asked me what I was thinking. I was thinking “I love you.” I like trying it out in my head. I told him I was thinking about us, about the passage of time. I often picture him on the day we met, still a stranger, and I can’t believe we’re here. I like that he asks me “what are you thinking?”, because of course I then get to ask it back, but without being the one who started it. He said he was thinking about us too.

‘What about us?’

‘Lots of things.’

‘What things?’


‘One thing?’ I find that B needs thinking time, and that if he doesn’t answer right away it usually means he’s still formulating his answer.

Finally he said, ‘The things we’ll do.’

‘Like, bedroom things?’ I ask. (That’s usually what he’s wondering about.)

‘No, like trips.’

‘Trips. Where to?’

‘I don’t know. I think about what it will be like to spend more than a day together, if we’ll be able to stand each other.’ (It was something to that effect anyway) ‘We haven’t fought or gotten annoyed with each other yet.’

‘We will.’

‘Maybe not.’ (Aw, sweet. But unrealistic.)

I told him how traveling is exhausting for me. How tired/cranky/bitchy I can get. He asked (more than once) what he should do if he annoys me. I tried to explain that if I’m annoyed, it wouldn’t be at him, but because I’m being cranky, and you can’t really talk yourself out of a bad mood. Sometimes I annoy myself because I know I’m in a bad mood, feeling childishly grumpy, and I know I just need time and space.

It was an interesting conversation. It felt like we’re still talking over and around things, still being a bit polite. But maybe that’s just because we like each other and it’s still new. We haven’t been faced with any rough stuff yet, and we’re trying our best to keep it that way.

I love that he’s imagining all the things we’ll do.


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