The sex-voiced Texan is contemplating his options.
“I like you a ridiculous amount,” he says to me while he is deciding whether to turn away from this or not. Whatever ‘this’ is exactly.
He has made some decisions that leave an impending visit far enough away for it to become something vague and untouchable. In light of that, he is disappointed and hurt and sad. He is right to be. These connections that you can form remotely are confusing, and intense, and often pointless. He has no experience with it, and he has reached the feeling of aimless sadness much sooner than most. Generally, the joy has to be waning for that feeling to be front-and-centre. We were nowhere near that yet.
There are two choices with this sort of thing:
a. It runs out of steam because there’s nowhere for it to go
b. It becomes a necessary inevitability to meet and we do something about that
He jumped straight to the second quickly, and with a plan in place, he was running at me with a delightful enthusiasm. With his plan scuppered, he is floundering.
Because what are we doing?
I felt him withdrawing before he brought it up with me, his reluctance was palpable, even over this distance. He didn’t want to disappoint me, he said when he came to me with it.
I want so badly to fight for him, but it would be unfair. I could talk him into making the decision I want, but being aware of my power in that is exactly what makes it wrong to exercise it. And really, I don’t want to talk him into it: he either leaps eagerly into the fray because ‘fuck it!’ or he needs to let it go.
So, I’m waiting.
And quietly going mad.
And hoping he will stick it out with me until we reach either a or b. If it’s a, well okay then. If it’s b, we will work something out. We hadn’t hit either of those yet.
I miss him.