Okay, I'm not writing this to create any more drama or controversy here at JUB, but I have to say that I now understand what people, who have posted similar things before, went through.
This weekend, I did something that I swore that I would never do...I had sex with my ex-boyfriend, Dave.
We have been apart for almost two years (we broke up in late August, 2007) and he was living with a much younger male co-worker of his. They had broken up last fall, after just being together a little over a year. Since then, Dave has been occasionally calling me for advice on how to cook and take care of certain household things that I used to take care of, for him, when we lived together.
Things started to heat up a little on St. Patrick's Day. He wanted me to show him how to cook the Corned Beef and Cabbage meal in a Dutch Oven pan, the way my aunt had taught me to do it. So he came over, and since it made no sense for him to take it home and eat it alone, I asked him to stay and dine with me that night. We talked like we used to, when he would come over my house with our mutual friend, for coffee back in the early 1990's. It was a good meal and pleasant evening. I even gave him the leftovers to take home. When he left, he surprised me with a hug, and tender kiss on my forehead. I backed off a little, and all he said was "That felt so right, Ron."
He had been calling me every couple of days, just to talk. I told myself that I was continuing to talk to him because I felt bad for him. He was trying to live on his own for the first time in a long time. He wasn't being papmered by me anymore. He wasn't playing "older partner" to his twink boyfriend anymore. He was going through the same process that I did, when he left me. And since I found my happy place (or so I thought that I did), maybe I could be a help to him.
Friday afternoon, he spontaneously showed up at my door, offering to take me out for a fish fry dinner. He said that he wanted to take me out for a steak, but, being Lent, he knew that I wouldn't break abstaining from meat on Fridays. I'd had a rough day at school, and didn't feel like going out. So I offered to cook some pasta and broccoli for him. I'd already had some fresh cooked broccoli in the fridge, so it was a simple matter of putting it together. He used to go apeshit for my pasta and broccoli. This time was no exception. We had a nice meal, and finished it with coffee. When I put on a DVD, he stood to watch it with me (it was "My Cousin Vinny," one that I never get tired of). During the movie, without a word, he reached over and gently pulled me to his chest. I was feeling so horny and vulnerable at that moment, that I moved up against him as I would have when we were together. I rested my face on his chest, and inhaled his familiar scent from his shirt. His arms went around me, and I was a goner......
I won't lie and say that it was only sex. Once we were in bed, I was making love to the man I had planned to spend the rest of my life with, before we broke up. I thought that I was totally over him, that I had moved on. But those old feelings I had for him were as strong as ever at that moment. Waking up with him next to me on Saturday morning felt good.
He thought that, because we had made love, that I would instantly ask him to move back in, and we would pick up where we left off. We spent a good portion of Saturday morning talking about it. I explained to him that I made a life for myself, out of the need to get over my feelings for him and moved on. He said that he was feeling the love that always existed between us.
I reminded him about the reasons that he left me. I was too old for him. I was too fat for him. He didn't feel any love for me anymore. He was bored with our life. Those were the things that he said to me when he left. I hadn't forgotten the hurt I went through.
He had no answers for that. And we didn't resolve things. I had a lunch appointment on Saturday with a few of my friends. So I hustled him out of my place with a promise that we would talk again.
Saturday night, I went out to mass and to dinner with my dad, like we do most Saturdays. I didn't have the heart to tell him about my night with Dave, because Dad had accepted Dave as my partner and another son. Dad was almost as sad as I was when Dave and I parted ways. When I returned home, there were several messages on my answering machine from him. I decided not to call him back until Sunday.
It was after 10:00 PM, when there was a knock at my door. Dave is there, and tells me that he can't forget how good it felt to make love with me again, and that he was going to show me just how sincere he really was.
Again, it was like a dream come true. Dave was there, in my bed, making love to me. I was determined not to feel guilty about this. Somewhere between our loving, and Sunday morning, I decided that it was all right. We needed each other. We could be friends, with benefits.
I used to scoff at that. But in my head, it made sense to me. Dave is, by far, the finest lover I have ever had. What his body and soul do for me is beyond any explanation that I could give. And, he still needs me on different levels too.
On Sunday, I made pancakes for him, which he loves. We agreed that we would cool it down for Sunday night because he has to work on Monday, and so do I.
I have no idea where this is leading right now. I love how he makes me feel. But I know that I don't want to go back to the way things were. I like my space and solitude now.
I do love Dave. I always will. I just am not "in love" with him anymore...
This weekend, I did something that I swore that I would never do...I had sex with my ex-boyfriend, Dave.
We have been apart for almost two years (we broke up in late August, 2007) and he was living with a much younger male co-worker of his. They had broken up last fall, after just being together a little over a year. Since then, Dave has been occasionally calling me for advice on how to cook and take care of certain household things that I used to take care of, for him, when we lived together.
Things started to heat up a little on St. Patrick's Day. He wanted me to show him how to cook the Corned Beef and Cabbage meal in a Dutch Oven pan, the way my aunt had taught me to do it. So he came over, and since it made no sense for him to take it home and eat it alone, I asked him to stay and dine with me that night. We talked like we used to, when he would come over my house with our mutual friend, for coffee back in the early 1990's. It was a good meal and pleasant evening. I even gave him the leftovers to take home. When he left, he surprised me with a hug, and tender kiss on my forehead. I backed off a little, and all he said was "That felt so right, Ron."
He had been calling me every couple of days, just to talk. I told myself that I was continuing to talk to him because I felt bad for him. He was trying to live on his own for the first time in a long time. He wasn't being papmered by me anymore. He wasn't playing "older partner" to his twink boyfriend anymore. He was going through the same process that I did, when he left me. And since I found my happy place (or so I thought that I did), maybe I could be a help to him.
Friday afternoon, he spontaneously showed up at my door, offering to take me out for a fish fry dinner. He said that he wanted to take me out for a steak, but, being Lent, he knew that I wouldn't break abstaining from meat on Fridays. I'd had a rough day at school, and didn't feel like going out. So I offered to cook some pasta and broccoli for him. I'd already had some fresh cooked broccoli in the fridge, so it was a simple matter of putting it together. He used to go apeshit for my pasta and broccoli. This time was no exception. We had a nice meal, and finished it with coffee. When I put on a DVD, he stood to watch it with me (it was "My Cousin Vinny," one that I never get tired of). During the movie, without a word, he reached over and gently pulled me to his chest. I was feeling so horny and vulnerable at that moment, that I moved up against him as I would have when we were together. I rested my face on his chest, and inhaled his familiar scent from his shirt. His arms went around me, and I was a goner......
I won't lie and say that it was only sex. Once we were in bed, I was making love to the man I had planned to spend the rest of my life with, before we broke up. I thought that I was totally over him, that I had moved on. But those old feelings I had for him were as strong as ever at that moment. Waking up with him next to me on Saturday morning felt good.
He thought that, because we had made love, that I would instantly ask him to move back in, and we would pick up where we left off. We spent a good portion of Saturday morning talking about it. I explained to him that I made a life for myself, out of the need to get over my feelings for him and moved on. He said that he was feeling the love that always existed between us.
I reminded him about the reasons that he left me. I was too old for him. I was too fat for him. He didn't feel any love for me anymore. He was bored with our life. Those were the things that he said to me when he left. I hadn't forgotten the hurt I went through.
He had no answers for that. And we didn't resolve things. I had a lunch appointment on Saturday with a few of my friends. So I hustled him out of my place with a promise that we would talk again.
Saturday night, I went out to mass and to dinner with my dad, like we do most Saturdays. I didn't have the heart to tell him about my night with Dave, because Dad had accepted Dave as my partner and another son. Dad was almost as sad as I was when Dave and I parted ways. When I returned home, there were several messages on my answering machine from him. I decided not to call him back until Sunday.
It was after 10:00 PM, when there was a knock at my door. Dave is there, and tells me that he can't forget how good it felt to make love with me again, and that he was going to show me just how sincere he really was.
Again, it was like a dream come true. Dave was there, in my bed, making love to me. I was determined not to feel guilty about this. Somewhere between our loving, and Sunday morning, I decided that it was all right. We needed each other. We could be friends, with benefits.
I used to scoff at that. But in my head, it made sense to me. Dave is, by far, the finest lover I have ever had. What his body and soul do for me is beyond any explanation that I could give. And, he still needs me on different levels too.
On Sunday, I made pancakes for him, which he loves. We agreed that we would cool it down for Sunday night because he has to work on Monday, and so do I.
I have no idea where this is leading right now. I love how he makes me feel. But I know that I don't want to go back to the way things were. I like my space and solitude now.
I do love Dave. I always will. I just am not "in love" with him anymore...