|B-witched, Bothered, and B-wildered
Nothing is ever simple.
Don't read this post if you're looking for links to substantive intellectual material. This is about the ongoing soap opera that is my life.
After the beach I thought this was resolved. Apparently not. That would be too easy.
This evening I got a call from B- saying he was going to have a cocktail at a local establishment having a charity happy hour. He'd mentioned this before in an email as an opportunity for me to hand off the rest of the money I owed for the beach house. So I left work at about 7:45 and found him at the bar. I bought a round of drinks, he ordered a sandwich, we talked as best we could over the noise and smoke. After a couple of Manhattans we moved on to The Diner where I got a salmon caesar and we talked some more. A lovely relaxed time. Very nice.
I'm thinking, "This is how it's going to be, and it's pretty darn good." I find him attractive, but I'm not suffering. He likes me, enjoys my company, that's it. I can take "no" for an answer, I'm okay with it. Really.
So then I drive him home, and we're chatting and it's all good. I pull up in front of his place, lean over for the standard good night on the cheek, and get the full-frontal, double-dip, serious no-fooling major kiss.
This is not a let's be friends kiss. I'm sorry, I know the difference. This is a let's do that some more kiss.
I drove off in a state of total confusion.
Previous episodes of the B- conundrum may be found at: What to do about a kiss, No Resolution, To B- or not to B-, Oops, he did it again!, and Back from the Beach.