Why the eff is it always a Whitney?
November 7, late. After I get home from dinner and a movie w B
I’m so into him. SO. I imagine all kinds of scenarios in my head and they all end up with us together. And when I’m with him, I feel so loved, cherished. He has such a way of making me feel like I’m the only person in the world. Maybe he does that with everyone. It’s intoxicating. Whatever.
So, tonight... Ok. First we have to back up. Thursday was a worship all staff. It wrecked me. WRECKED. It moved me in ways I’m not sure my heart has moved since college. I really did recommit to God in a wonderful, scary way full of submission. And afterward I was talking to him about it and he just listened. Sweetie. Told me I was being too hard on myself.
Anyway, before he picked me up tonight, I was praying that God would lead me to trust Him. I want B to love me, but I want to be honest with him about how I feel, but I don’t want to freak him out…and I really felt God saying to trust. To trust myself, trust B, trust Him, and don’t fret. And then my mind went into that crazy whirlwind of “does he like me, does he not like me…”
So when he texted me that he was here Friday night I was in a complete tizzy in my head. But when I opened the door and he just smiled at me…oh man. Melt. And then he reached immediately for my hand and I was at ease. If this was a pity date — I know, I’m pathetic, because I thought maybe he’d changed his mind about me after we’d made this date and couldn’t get out of it…you know, a pity date. But if that’s what this was, he would not have instantly reached for my hand. It was as if he couldn’t wait to touch me. I was completely reassured when we got in the car and he simply leaned over with no words and kissed me breathless.
And off we went. I snaked my hand through his in the car with a sigh and said “I hope you don’t mind that I’m a toucher.” and he said, “that’s one of the things I like best about you.” He held my hand or had his hand on my back or around my neck the whole night. In line, in the theater, in the car, in the restaurant.
Movie: Night Crawler. CREEPY. DISTURBING. Well done, but ew. I wasn’t completely engaged because he kept playing with my fingers, and my neck. I LIKE HIM SO MUCH.
At dinner, we got about half way through it and with “be honest, be honest, be honest” running through my head, I finally said, “OK. I have to be a girl now. Bear with me. I won’t do this sort of thing very often so hold tight and you’ll get through it.” He laughed and I looked up from my salad, “What are we doing, B?” the rest is not word for word, but it’s basically what I got:
Him: I don’t know. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been schitzo. I don’t mean to be. I mean, we aren’t like dating or anything. It’s not a relationship, right?
Me: It kinda seems like it is, but I thought you said at the outset that it wasn’t, so now…well, that’s why I’m asking.
Him: I like you. I like you a lot. And I like to kiss you. A lot. And I don’t want that to change. But this is going to sound really awful, but I have a lot of stress with the job thing and the Tshirt thing and my partner is driving me crazy…and work is nuts and honestly, and I know this makes me sound mean, but I just haven’t thought a lot about it. Don’t take that personally. I just like being with you and I like touching you and kissing you and I don’t want to stop.
Me: But it’s not a relationship? We go out every Friday night. We hold hands, we kiss. But we aren’t dating? I’m just trying to get a handle on this. I know, it’s a girl thing to want to label, and I get that. But I need to know if and how to guard my heart, because I’ll be honest, I want more. <I totally couldn’t look at him but he grabbed my hand across the table> I don’t want that to weird or freak you out and you aren’t responsible for my feelings but I want you to know.
Him: Oh man. I don’t really, I mean, you know, want that responsibility. You know? I’m kinda anti-commitment.
Me: No, I hear ya. I know what you are saying.
Him: Do you?
Me: Ya. Do not fall in love with you.
Him: <nervous laughter>
Me: No one is going to burst in flames if the word love is used. That’s what you are saying, right?
Him: Yeah. Thank you. Thank you for getting that.
Me: Well, I’m not in love with you, so you can relax. But I’ve loved you as a friend for years and I can see how easily I could fall for you. So if you aren’t there with me, I want to know so I can be careful. I’m a big girl, not a 15-year-old. And I believe that while chemistry, which we do have <big grin from him> is not a choice, being in love is. It’ll be my choice. But I need you to be honest with me.
Him: Ok. Well…
Then he proceeds to tell me about Whitney (why the fuck is it always Whitney) and how he has this thing for her for a long time and she broke up with her almost fiancé last week. She broke up with him because seeing me with B at the Halloween party had completely wigged her out. She’d been over to his house Tuesday night (the day before he told me we shouldn’t have sex anymore). He had asked her how much of the break up had to do with him and she said a lot. He’s not sure what that means, but it’s got him “stressed out”. So, basically. He likes me, he likes to kiss me, he doesn’t want me to fall in love with him and he’s got a thing for another girl.
So I’m fucked, right?
Or, I can go along for the ride, guard my heart as well as I can, and hope for the best. He’s anti-commitment because he thinks that being a good boyfriend would mean he has to give up time with his buddies (it doesn’t).
Part of me says, “I just want to be the girl he comes home to,” but another part of me wants to be with someone that WANTS me the way everyone else wants someone named Whitney, apparently. I lost T, who I’ve always considered the love of my life, to a Whitney as well.