Happenings Since
On early Sunday morning, at two in the morning to be precise, I called James. I knew he wasn't home, but I called anyway and left a message. "Hi, it's me. It's technically Sunday... two in the morning. I know you're not back from the train yet, but please call me when you get in."
On Monday he called me while I was at work, and asked me what was wrong. I told him I'd call him back when I was off work -
I was so nervous. I didn't know what I would say - would he ask me if there was "someone else" and then I would be unable to lie and spill about Christian? He asked me was I okay, what was wrong? I couldn't tell him then, I just said "stuff". I asked him to pick me up from work so we could talk. "I need to talk to you." So like the accommodating and dutiful man he is, he clambered out of blissful jetlagged sleep and picked me up.
First I told him about roommate problems I was having - basically, my roommate wants his girlfriend to move in. James thinks this is a horrendous idea, but I've already started leaning towards it because there's almost no way out.
"So if you've already made the decision to let his girlfriend move in, why are you asking me about it? Is this really what's bothering you?"
"Well - I have something else that's bothering me."
"Okay, what?"
"Our relationship."
"What about our relationship?"
I told him that it was happening to me again, what always happens in my relationships; at the height of content and comfort, I was getting bored, and the way that always ends up is me breaking up unexpectedly with the poor hapless male in question, who had thought everything was going so well. It happened with the two or three boys my age I dated, but in retrospect that seemed only natural given the finer preferences I've developed. It happened with Michael, the first older man I ever fucked, but that seemed a fitting end as well because he was always busy or sleepy, and all he was interested in was sex. Yet I didn't think it would happen with James; James who I consciously wanted, James who I've had such wonderful times with, James who I love to sleep next to, James who seems to fit me perfectly despite being thirty-eight years older, James who is the only person I've ever thought I could actually be with for a very long time. I thought I was impervious to becoming bored with him.
Perhaps it was because he was dead tired, or perhaps I just misjudged how he would react to such a thing, but to my surprise he was actually quite calm and even Buddhist about it.
"Well, this happens in all relationships - after a while some of the "shiny" wears off. At which point, you need to decide whether to keep what you have or try something new."
"Well, what should we do? What should I do?"
"I can't tell you - that's your decision. I mean, we've been together for six months. Affairs last for about six months - there's a reason; it gets boring after a while."
"But I don't want this to be an affair. I don't want to break up just because it gets boring! I made a commitment to be with you, only you. I don't want the rest of my life to be this way. I don't want to always break up the minute it gets boring!"
"Well - it's your decision what you want to do."
He then told me about women he knew who had settled down with older men, stayed with them until the men were back to shitting in diapers, the women were wheeling their decrepit lovers around in wheelchairs, and then when the old men finally died the women resented them and felt their youth had been stolen from them. He told me he didn't want to be guilty of doing that to anyone.
He made it sound like he was encouraging me to break up with him.
"It makes it sound like you don't care either way."
"Well - perhaps I'm framing it wrong. I do care. I care about you, and I like spending time with you. I'm happy to continue, but if you feel you need to move on - well..."
He told me that at this point in his life he's learned not to get upset about things when they end, rather to enjoy them when they are around. "When you're my age, half of all the people you've ever loved are dead - you learn to accept these things."
I don't know how I felt at that point - at once I was surprised he didn't react more like - well, a boy my age. Those breakups were intense, angry, depressing, obsessive. I almost wanted to tell him about Christian just to make him upset. At the same time I felt relieved that he was being mature about it, and it even seemed his magnanimity about it could cleanse my soul of the wretchedly faithless and lustful thoughts of the past week.
"I asked some people for advice. Some people say - it's natural to get bored in a relationship, that's the natural state after a while. Just ignore it. Some other people say - if your relationship is worth communicating about, then tell him how you feel and try to work it out. And some other people told me that I'm nineteen and shouldn't be in a serious relationship, that I should be fucking around, experimenting, exploring... I don't know what to do. I don't know if I'm tired of you or just the things we do together. We always just lay around and talk and fuck and eat. Normally I'm okay with that - but lately, I don't know..."
"Well, we can do different things if you want, if you think it would help. But I'm not going to do things with you just for the sake of it. Surrounding ourselves in constant frantic activity to distract ourselves from the fact that we shouldn't be together anymore is not the answer. We should only be together for as long as we both enjoy being together. But if there's something you really want to do, that we can enjoy doing together - like go out of town or to the mountains for the weekend, or learn to cook things, or plant a garden in your backyard - we can do things like that."
I don't know, I don't know! Would it help? Would anything help? Have I used him up? Are people just tools to each others' happiness until they don't work together anymore?
"I don't want to break up. You're the only person who cares about me, who understands, who I can talk to! I don't want to lose you. If we break up, will we ever talk again? Will we ever be this close again?"
"Well - I won't sleep with you anymore, but I'll still talk to you."
"I don't know yet... I don't know what to do. Maybe telling you all this will make it go away - that happens sometimes. Once I get it out it isn't as big a problem."
"Well. I guess we can see if you still feel this way in a while."
There must be something about magnanimous men that makes me want them, and makes me want to take them and hold them forever and apologize endlessly for what I've done, and never leave them. I cried and cried, and buried my head in James' shoulder, taking in the almost-aromatic smell of hand-rolled cigarettes that hangs around him. I nuzzled his cheek and draped my arms around him. I thought, what have I been thinking? This is where I belong. This is who I belong to. This is what I want.
We were at a park for the duration of this conversation. When we left it was dark, and I didn't realize how tired and exhausted I was until we left. We drove to the west side of town and sat down at Pat's, an ancient greasy drive-up hamburger-hotdog-fries-chili joint. James bought me a chicken sandwich and an orange soda - in that moment that orange soda was the most delicious thing I've ever had. Driving back home in his truck, I felt like a feeling of peace had overcome me, and now I could finally eat and sleep. Now I was back where I was supposed to be. I invited him to stay the night because I missed him so and wanted to sleep next to him - he declined because he was just back from the freight train, and needed serious death-sleep. He dropped me off at my house - I lingered in his truck in the driveway and kissed his lips, his neck, his hands - God how I wanted him to stay with me that night.
He left me at the door, and drove off home into the night.
I slept more solidly that night than in the entire past week. When I woke up in the morning, I didn't even know where I was or what day it was.
For that evening, I felt all right. But do I still feel all right? Am I still bored? I don't know yet.
On Monday he called me while I was at work, and asked me what was wrong. I told him I'd call him back when I was off work -
I was so nervous. I didn't know what I would say - would he ask me if there was "someone else" and then I would be unable to lie and spill about Christian? He asked me was I okay, what was wrong? I couldn't tell him then, I just said "stuff". I asked him to pick me up from work so we could talk. "I need to talk to you." So like the accommodating and dutiful man he is, he clambered out of blissful jetlagged sleep and picked me up.
First I told him about roommate problems I was having - basically, my roommate wants his girlfriend to move in. James thinks this is a horrendous idea, but I've already started leaning towards it because there's almost no way out.
"So if you've already made the decision to let his girlfriend move in, why are you asking me about it? Is this really what's bothering you?"
"Well - I have something else that's bothering me."
"Okay, what?"
"Our relationship."
"What about our relationship?"
I told him that it was happening to me again, what always happens in my relationships; at the height of content and comfort, I was getting bored, and the way that always ends up is me breaking up unexpectedly with the poor hapless male in question, who had thought everything was going so well. It happened with the two or three boys my age I dated, but in retrospect that seemed only natural given the finer preferences I've developed. It happened with Michael, the first older man I ever fucked, but that seemed a fitting end as well because he was always busy or sleepy, and all he was interested in was sex. Yet I didn't think it would happen with James; James who I consciously wanted, James who I've had such wonderful times with, James who I love to sleep next to, James who seems to fit me perfectly despite being thirty-eight years older, James who is the only person I've ever thought I could actually be with for a very long time. I thought I was impervious to becoming bored with him.
Perhaps it was because he was dead tired, or perhaps I just misjudged how he would react to such a thing, but to my surprise he was actually quite calm and even Buddhist about it.
"Well, this happens in all relationships - after a while some of the "shiny" wears off. At which point, you need to decide whether to keep what you have or try something new."
"Well, what should we do? What should I do?"
"I can't tell you - that's your decision. I mean, we've been together for six months. Affairs last for about six months - there's a reason; it gets boring after a while."
"But I don't want this to be an affair. I don't want to break up just because it gets boring! I made a commitment to be with you, only you. I don't want the rest of my life to be this way. I don't want to always break up the minute it gets boring!"
"Well - it's your decision what you want to do."
He then told me about women he knew who had settled down with older men, stayed with them until the men were back to shitting in diapers, the women were wheeling their decrepit lovers around in wheelchairs, and then when the old men finally died the women resented them and felt their youth had been stolen from them. He told me he didn't want to be guilty of doing that to anyone.
He made it sound like he was encouraging me to break up with him.
"It makes it sound like you don't care either way."
"Well - perhaps I'm framing it wrong. I do care. I care about you, and I like spending time with you. I'm happy to continue, but if you feel you need to move on - well..."
He told me that at this point in his life he's learned not to get upset about things when they end, rather to enjoy them when they are around. "When you're my age, half of all the people you've ever loved are dead - you learn to accept these things."
I don't know how I felt at that point - at once I was surprised he didn't react more like - well, a boy my age. Those breakups were intense, angry, depressing, obsessive. I almost wanted to tell him about Christian just to make him upset. At the same time I felt relieved that he was being mature about it, and it even seemed his magnanimity about it could cleanse my soul of the wretchedly faithless and lustful thoughts of the past week.
"I asked some people for advice. Some people say - it's natural to get bored in a relationship, that's the natural state after a while. Just ignore it. Some other people say - if your relationship is worth communicating about, then tell him how you feel and try to work it out. And some other people told me that I'm nineteen and shouldn't be in a serious relationship, that I should be fucking around, experimenting, exploring... I don't know what to do. I don't know if I'm tired of you or just the things we do together. We always just lay around and talk and fuck and eat. Normally I'm okay with that - but lately, I don't know..."
"Well, we can do different things if you want, if you think it would help. But I'm not going to do things with you just for the sake of it. Surrounding ourselves in constant frantic activity to distract ourselves from the fact that we shouldn't be together anymore is not the answer. We should only be together for as long as we both enjoy being together. But if there's something you really want to do, that we can enjoy doing together - like go out of town or to the mountains for the weekend, or learn to cook things, or plant a garden in your backyard - we can do things like that."
I don't know, I don't know! Would it help? Would anything help? Have I used him up? Are people just tools to each others' happiness until they don't work together anymore?
"I don't want to break up. You're the only person who cares about me, who understands, who I can talk to! I don't want to lose you. If we break up, will we ever talk again? Will we ever be this close again?"
"Well - I won't sleep with you anymore, but I'll still talk to you."
"I don't know yet... I don't know what to do. Maybe telling you all this will make it go away - that happens sometimes. Once I get it out it isn't as big a problem."
"Well. I guess we can see if you still feel this way in a while."
There must be something about magnanimous men that makes me want them, and makes me want to take them and hold them forever and apologize endlessly for what I've done, and never leave them. I cried and cried, and buried my head in James' shoulder, taking in the almost-aromatic smell of hand-rolled cigarettes that hangs around him. I nuzzled his cheek and draped my arms around him. I thought, what have I been thinking? This is where I belong. This is who I belong to. This is what I want.
We were at a park for the duration of this conversation. When we left it was dark, and I didn't realize how tired and exhausted I was until we left. We drove to the west side of town and sat down at Pat's, an ancient greasy drive-up hamburger-hotdog-fries-chili joint. James bought me a chicken sandwich and an orange soda - in that moment that orange soda was the most delicious thing I've ever had. Driving back home in his truck, I felt like a feeling of peace had overcome me, and now I could finally eat and sleep. Now I was back where I was supposed to be. I invited him to stay the night because I missed him so and wanted to sleep next to him - he declined because he was just back from the freight train, and needed serious death-sleep. He dropped me off at my house - I lingered in his truck in the driveway and kissed his lips, his neck, his hands - God how I wanted him to stay with me that night.
He left me at the door, and drove off home into the night.
I slept more solidly that night than in the entire past week. When I woke up in the morning, I didn't even know where I was or what day it was.
For that evening, I felt all right. But do I still feel all right? Am I still bored? I don't know yet.