So #8 Überbear isn’t a slut after all. The other night, after watching Eros, and just after the Wong Kar-Wai part–fabulous by the way, using sentiment, cliche, and even melodrama to create erotic tension–I called up #8 to say nighty night. Well, somehow we got to talking about our impressions of each other and how those impressions have been feeding certain behavior patterns. He thought that he’s been withholding sexually (remember the log trick?) and I thought I’ve been withholding the responsibility of my pleasure from him–his perceived lack of interest in my pleasure actually a sensitivity to my distance, a distance based on my mistaken belief that he was the slut of all time, but actually his interest in a monogamous relationship goes beyond curiosity, he actually wants it, but I’ve been afraid to fall into his hands, hands that I thought weren’t able to hold on for very long–but get this, we’re like, ON THE SAME PAGE.
What a wacky pair!
There is a complication, in the person of an out-of-towner who will soon be visiting, and whose affections predate mine, so Good Luck #8, call me if and when the coast is clear.
Whew.
Let’s all take a deep breath and move on to Bachelor #9.
Although… back to Bachelor #8, now I’m all kind of excited. There doesn’t seem to be much there there, but I feel a warm tingley-ness when I think of him now. BC is bent on exposing his dark underbelly, but I just want to bury my face in it. Could I love someone who’s just centered and communicative and makes me happy and excited but who has no interest in mid-20th century lighting or non-narrative film?
Last night Dave, BC, and D joined me and Little Reesey for dinner. Reese seemed very amused that my dating life was the subject of so much heated dinner conversation, and even more amused by D’s overt and extended pass at poor Little Dave. Dave behaved admirably, simultaneously deflecting and honoring D’s misguided amorous advances.