Sunday, March 1, 2015
A wee bit of a crisis....
I'm not religious, but Sunday seems to have a way of forcing you to reflect on all the mistakes you made during the week and handing you the conclusion that you may, in fact, be a horrible person.
I make impulsive, stupid decisions. It's kind of my M.O.
And then I live with the after-math and wind up making myself all kinds of stressed out and sick.
Yesterday marked a very interesting and enlightening adventure. For Tyler's birthday, he elected me of all people to spend the day with, which we did in the Twin Cities area. We parked at the Mall of America ramp and took the train into the cities.
This ended up being kind of strangely nostalgic for me, because I was so accustomed to taking the underground Metro when I lived in Montreal and parts of yesterday's ride involved some tunnel action.
After departing from the train, we walked a scant few blocks to the Triple Rock, which is a kind of bar/venue. I say "scant few" when it really felt like miles against the bitter cold wind but we made it. It was kind of adorable how he kept apologizing for the cold though, as if he could somehow control the weather. Frankly, that'd be more up MY alley, but even I'm not bad ass enough of a witch to tell the wind to pipe the fuck down.
This venue is kind of neat - it has an interesting relationship to the Blues Brother's film, google it if you're interested. There are band names and all kinds of obscene things written on the brick walls and the seating for the booth area consists of some cheap tables and church pews. It's pretty awesome.
Also, lots of local brews, one of which I tried. It was kind of fruity and sour at the same time. The poutine - having spent enough time in Montreal, again - was nothing to write home about, but I'll really just chalk that up to bias.
He was pretty sweet about sliding in next to me on that pew and trying to warm me up after our chilly trek there. Here's the thing though - I don't like being touched. At all. By anybody, for any reason, even. But by some miracle, I have no issue with this dude getting up close and personal. Still trying to parse that one out.
After that segment, we decided to skip the punk show we had planned to see in favor of hanging out in the skyway areas of downtown Minneapolis. So it was back on the train and into the heart of the cities.
I still had a nice buzz going, and the cold wasn't so unbearable, but we stopped in a Caribou for coffee anyways. I'm a Starbucks kind of girl, you know, and I'm a LOT more familiar with their menu so I had no idea what to drink at this joint. I let the cashier make a recommendation - word to the wise - if you don't like super sweet drinks please avoid the Campfire Mocha. Please.
Then it was an interesting stroll from building to building and over the city streets via plexiglass pathways to, probably, the cities' largest Barnes and Noble. Oh, if I were only a million dollars richer - I might have bought out the place.
Then again, maybe not. Powell's Books in Portland was easily larger and more fascinating than a two story B&N. But I digress.
We'd killed a few hours by that point. It was time to head back to the Mall and, by consequence, his car. It was at this time he grew bold enough to simply reach for my hand and interlace our fingers. This was different - before he used to ask prior and I would deny. This time, he just went for it. Can we get a round of applause here?
I got to see a burst of anger from him for the first time, when some asshat Earl-brain in a truck cut him off in the parking ramp. There was the flashing of middle fingers, lots of blaring car horns and some gratuitous swearing. This shouldn't have bothered me, really. He was totally right to get pissed at this moron.
I'm not gonna lie though - it was a wee bit triggering. Chris, the previous boy, had some serious road rage issues and outbursts like that were more often than not redirected at me if I made a sound.
So what did my pathetic self do during this five second rage fest? Mostly I hunkered down into the collar of my jacket and tried not to whimper. I think I succeeded. I don't think Tyler was any the wiser of my sudden mental dip.
But a moment of pride! I DID NOT let it affect me for the rest of the evening. I let it go, breathed it out, dropped it. I chose not to dwell on those awful, anxiety inducing feelings from the past.
Back at his place, we cuddled under the blankets on his bed to warm up and watched the second Captain America film. It was innocent at first, you know, just sitting next to each other and sharing body heat. And then it progressed into tangled limbs, kissing, reaching, touching, stroking.....shameful.
What seemed like a natural progression from friendly cuddling into kind of steamy making out now feels a bit...dirty. I feel like maybe I got swept along with something I wasn't quite ready for.
I'm serious, up until yesterday, I hadn't let him kiss me. And I had a ton of excuses for that: Mom was watching, the timing was off, you took me by surprise, dude you were silly enough to ask and give me time to freak out...etc.
And yet, while we were buried under the blankets with him wrapped around me, it just sort of happened. And I let it. Was it the most spectacular of kisses? No, of course not. I mean, the first ones never are. But we figured it out. And in the moment, it felt right.
The problem with moments is that they pass and you have to deal with all the stuff that comes afterward. Like the crippling fear that I did something really really wrong that night. Or that he's gonna get cold-feet and disappear. Maybe he'll want to keep progressing with the new-found physical aspect of our relationship. And I have to be ready for whatever's coming next or at least able to communicate my feelings on the matter.
And I haven't heard from him since last night, which is nothing to really worry about - I know, but the anxious part of my brain is conjuring up all the worst possible scenarios. I guess all I can do is wait and see what happens next.