As last year drew to a close I finally finished my divorce and moved out of my house to a new apartment. There are not enough beautiful words to describe how wonderful it is to be out of that place, living in my own space that is neat and clean and smells nice and I know is going to stay that way. Moving was hectic and then I went out of town to visit my family, but these past couple of nights that I’ve been back have been full of the most restful sleep I’ve had in a long time.
Last night was particularly restful since the Lawyer came to my place. First time I’ve had him over where I live instead of going to him.
The evening started off super clumsily, literally, since I spilled a glass of water SECONDS before he knocked on the door so I had to shout at him to just come in, and then I was on the floor awkwardly wiping off water while he was getting undressed. Actually kind of hilarious thinking back on it.
My new apartment is on two stories, with the living area downstairs and a bedroom upstairs. I mean obviously they’re both about the size of a shoebox, but it stills feels a bit more spacious that way, at least to me. Anyway, so Lawyer was ready to jump my bones, probably on the kitchen counter if he could, but I dragged him upstairs (being undressed by him the whole way) to my bed.
It was like we couldn’t get enough of each other. It’s been three weeks since we last saw each other, so I guess that makes sense. And then when we finally collapsed together, and he asked me how my holidays were… It was so smooth, talking to him. And we talked for hours before he finally had to go, about everything you could imagine.
And I’m still not sure. I’m still not sure if he’s just humoring me with his attention or if he actually wants to see what it would be like to date.
But I do know that when he kissed me when he left, it was different than before. It was a little more gentle, a little more sweet. There were a couple of long kisses and then a bunch of tiny ones, like he didn’t want to let go quite yet but that was his only excuse to keep holding on.
I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want to replay those moments over and over in my head. I don’t want to hope. But all of this is happening anyway. It’s that horrible feeling building up, that feeling I crave and hate.