After the big blow up the other night, I decided it would be best to not only not talk to Ryan, but attempt to avoid him in public, too. We were both planning on leaving town (me for a few weeks, he for good) and although we were going to the same place, it’s a big damn city and there’s no reason why we should cross paths.
A mutual friend, P, invited me out on St. Patty’s day. P was leaving the next day to go back to his home in Europe and I wanted to see him one last time before he did. He mentioned that Ryan would be out with him, so in an attempt to be considerate, I text Ryan and offered to decline P’s offer so that he wouldn’t have to see my face.
“Quit making such a big deal about it and it will stop being a big deal” he said.
Which struck me as odd because it had been Ryan that had made a big deal about my blog post the night before. I was confused but if he said he could be around me, then I didn’t see any reason to not go out. Ryan told me he planned on bar hopping and wouldn’t be in any one place for very long so it wouldn’t be an issue.
When I got to the bar, Ryan and Pants were there. I still ache at the sight of him although I know that there will never be anything sexual between us. I sat near him because I wanted to sit next to P and I also didn’t want to act weird, as if there was anything going on. Enough talk had been happening around town and I wanted to put an end to that bullshit.
He sat a few chairs away from me, with Pants in between us. Luckily, my hair covered my left eye and I couldn’t see him in my peripherals. I could hear him though and I wished I could turn and have a conversation with him but I knew it was not a good idea. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. It really wasn’t bad. But I didn’t want to make eye contact with him. I was afraid of what I would see.
A little while later, I sat at the bar talking to two girlfriends, laughing it up. Ryan walked up and started chatting with us. For someone who had been so vehemently mad with me the night before, I can’t imagine why he would want to engage me in conversation. I ended up saying something to pick on him, I don’t remember what, the same way we’d always interacted, and I joked that maybe he should bring Pants over and we could pick on him together.
“Oh yeah, that would be great!” he said and smiled. But it wasn’t the same smile he used when I fucked with him, it was one that hid an anger with me, or that’s the way I interpreted it anyway. It was uncomfortable and I cleared my throat, leaving that subject and my conversation with him behind.
I hadn’t checked on his blog in a few days, not really feeling prepared to read any entries about me. But today I felt good enough about the situation to give it a look. There was a mention of me, but nothing major. That wasn’t what got me. What got me was later in the entry him mentioning that he may not be moving at all.
Well, shit.
It isn’t that I don’t like seeing him, because it is quite the opposite. But the entire situation seemed easier when he was going to be gone and neither me nor my boyfriend would have to look him in the eye except when he visits. If he stays, things change. At least I will be leaving for long enough for everything to cool down and everyone to cool off. The rumors will stop (about that at least. I’m sure people have plenty of opinions on my going on a trip for that long without my boyfriend. But you know what I say to them? Fuck you, it’s none of your goddamn business) flying about the two of us, he can get on with his life and my boyfriend can have time to heal.
And maybe if enough time passes and things change between us, we can do that photoshoot we planned. I really would love to, I know it would turn out great. It wouldn’t be so great right now I don’t think but in a few weeks or a few months maybe we can interact on a normal, friendship level. My libido just needs the time to calm down and my attraction to him needs to fade. I know it will, in time and time is just what I plan on giving it.
I hadn’t been dreaming about Ryan since the night after we got into that argument. But last night I had a dream about him… sort of. I dreamt that I came across a small, black ball gag that was attached to a leather strap. I attached it to my head, fitting the gag firmly between my teeth. I wore a white wife-beater that I ripped to expose my breasts. I took a photo of myself with my phone and sent it to him with the caption “May I?”. There wasn’t a response, that I can remember, but I woke up wondering what the fuck that was supposed to mean.
I guess I should be grateful that he never hooked up with me. If he had, things would be so much inkier. I’m not saying I still don’t wonder “what if?” and I still have to push fantasies out of my mind. But it’s getting easier now that I know it is a definite “no”. When the possibility was on the horizon, it was a challenge not to hang on to the idea. Now that I know it is not only off the table but absolutely never going to happen (even if my relationship did end, I think I’ve pissed him off enough to make it not so), I’m finding it easier to not pine.
That, and my brain is already on the West Coast. 6 days and counting…
