All right. I can’t sit silent anymore. Here’s what I originally posted this morning. The first five comments are from the original post. Anything after that is new. After the asterisks is the new stuff.
Here’s a phone call I made today.
IJL: Thanks for Calling It’s Just Lunch.
Me: Hi, this is Velvet. I, um, need to cancel my date with what’s his name next week.
IJL: Oh, with number 13?
Me: Yes, that’s him.
IJL: Awwww. I’m sorry. Why?
Me: Well, I guess I’m no longer dating.
IJL: Okay, so that’s good news!
Me: Yeah. It’s really good news.
IJL: Great. Well, we’ll put your membership on hold, and just give us a call back if you want to be rematched again.
There’s a phone number I hope to never dial again.
I’ll explain. You all know I ate dinner with Sherlock Wednesday. Thursday I was packing to head out of town for the weekend. He and I briefly discussed seeing eachother for a bit. He was out with friends and I was running around like a crazy person taking my bedding to the dry cleaner (thanks Thora for vomiting all over my down comforter) packing, squeezing in the gym, getting hijacked by damn Gay Friend M for some stupid crap (I hate you) and well, there you go. By the time Sherlock and I connected, it was around 10:30. And, um, I let him come over.
He met Sammy and Thora.
He came into my house.
I broke my rules.
Then we left and went over to his place, where I stayed for approximately three hours. Most of those three hours I spent suspiciously, but blissfully, unclothed. When I got home, I realized that yes, I had somehow taken the turn with the tide, and I was happy. But my realistic side said it was good that I was leaving town, because getting out of town is the best way for me to realize how I feel about him. And Friday morning when I woke up, I thought, “Huh. I won’t miss him.”
How wrong I was. We spent the entire weekend in text message foreplay and had a few conversations on the phone. He told me Saturday night he was going out with friends. But it turns out he had a date, which he confessed after the fact. No biggie, I just don’t like being lied to. I had to remind myself that just because my head caught up, didn’t mean he was back where I left him a few weeks ago. Deep breath. I thought of a few things I planned to say when I was back and I would leave it at that.
He picked me up from Union Station. We went and got the dogs, brought my stuff home, then went to his place for a few hours of the Thursday night, blissfully unclothed variety. What I planned to say, I said, calmly, knowing it was well thought out:
“Tuesday night I have a date, which I intend to keep. But I’m only going out with someone else for spite, because you lied to me about Saturday. But when I come home after that date, I promise to be done. I’ll stop.”
I know we had an awful start and a rough patch early on. But I think it set a dynamic between us that I’m quite happy with. He crossed a line early on, hell, a few lines, and I put my foot down, and that showed my resolve. But, eventually, after a little guilt set in for the way I handled things, and that little feeling of just plain old missing him, I responded to his contact. I’m glad I did.
I’m not going to stop him from reading. As I told him, it will keep me honest.
Kids? I adore this man.
All right. So what happened?
This morning I suppose Sherlock and I were getting our dating houses in order. I took care of the above crap with It’s Just Lunch. We had a couple texts of a sweet nature, then he sent me a text telling me that he canceled a pending date and “told his fuck buddy it was done.”
Um. What? Your who?
So I called him. He first said he told me about that, then he said that he didn’t and he shouldn’t have told me via text. Um, yeah. Maybe that’s a start. So my mind is reeling thinking about how unfair it is that he’s seen EVERY SINGLE THING I’ve written, thought, person I’ve dated, since he came into my life. I think, unless I’m a big fat fucking liar, that it’s safe to say that he’s the only person I’ve slept with recently. So I find out that he hasn’t been just with me. Okay okay. Trying to breathe for a minute. This really isn’t such a big deal.
Then I ask, “When was the last time it happened?”
He says, “Once before you and once after.”
This people, this, is why I don’t get into relationships. There it is. Please don’t get me wrong, it isn’t the act and the fact that it happened. I know it happened when we weren’t talking. It’s that he kept it from me until after I agreed to stop seeing other people. ANY TIME PRIOR TO THIS MORNING would have been a better time to tell me. But, I can see how, you know, when you’re getting your dick wet, why the fuck would you bother to be like, “oh, by the way…”
So I say, “Okay, so in the interim where you and I first slept together, you spent 10 days stalking me like a fucking lunatic, calling, texting, emailing, jogging by my house, sending flowers, reading the blog, and somehow you find time to fuck someone else?”
He said “Yeah.”
I had to get off the phone. I had to hang up before I said something that didn’t need to be said out loud. But he emailed me, attempting to explain. I don’t care that it happened, even though putting into context that it happened during the full on stalking period it strikes me as odd, I care that he waited until the absolute wrong time to tell me. I responded to his email and said:
This is typical sales guy again. Do you convince doctors to use equipment, then tell them mid-operation that “oh by the way, in the trials it killed a few people, no biggie.”
Fuck you. I’m so mad at you right now I don’t even know what to think…You deserve everything you got on the blog. And everything that’s coming. If I even bother to give you an ounce anymore.
Well, I guess I did give an ounce. I have to keep you kids informed. But look at the bright side, I have been writing this blog for 14 months. It’s hard to keep this new and fresh, right? But now, here you have it – Velvet gets into a committed relationship for 12 hours. Five of which I was asleep for! (Make your jokes, I know, I was asleep for all 12.) Really, it just doesn’t get any better.
Oh, one more thing. Fuck you Sherlock.