I'm meeting Steven for a late lunch. He wants to discuss "where things between us are heading." I thought I could answer his question by reminding him of our most recent encounter. Basically, a sexual relationship. I know at least that could work.
Honestly, I'm afraid of going any further than that. I want to, but I'm not sure I can deal with a relationship with someone I work with. A person who I'd see every day, 9:30-5:30 and then more. There would be awkward moments, knowing looks, and I'd have to make sure to wear pretty underwear all the time, because I'd never know when he will want a quickie before the 10:15 meeting. Oy.
Are these silly reasons? Of course they are. All excuses are silly. Still, I'm back at that whole instincts thing. My instincts tell me, and loudly, THIS WON'T WORK! But he wants this to materialize beyond giving me head and one stroke fucks. He says he wants to wash my hair and rub expensive cream on my legs. "I'll even make you tea on Sunday mornings." I haven't seen a Sunday morning in two years. He'd make my favorite tea and by the time I wake up, it will be room temperature. I hate room temperature.
Excuses.
He says he wants a relationship. And I want...something. Something other than eating falafels alone. Jan's neutral on falafels; Viv eats her's smelly. Steven eats them in salads. I could deal with that, okay. But I don't have space for him in my apartment. Nope. Can't do that. And I'm a clean sleeper. When I get out of bed, all I have to do is turn the comforter up and my bed is made.
What the hell am I doing? I have to dry my hair.