We ended up going to a nice little place with a (small, but really good) jazz band. The food was good, the conversation was great, the music was excellent. The only negative was the cramped little table we were at by the wall. I’m really fascinated with T’s background and culture. I was never good at U.S. history, much less world, but the more I talk to him about where he is from, the more I want to learn. <dork> I ordered some books about it (with a gift card I already had, of course) on B&N today. </dork>
We talked about our families, how we were raised, the relationships our parents have, our views on marraige and family and goals in life. The more I talk to him and learn about him, the more I *gulp* like him. Danger! Danger Will Robinson!!
Which leads us to the big question of the night, which took place after dinner. We sat and talked in the restaurant for another hour or so and then decided to go to a nearby bar for a few drinks. It was nice out so we walked over there. I noticed, during our walk, he not only did not try to hold my hand or put his arm around me (he used to), but he had his hands in his pockets. So, we get to the bar, and after a drink and mindless chatter, amidst the crowd and the live band and the football game on tv, I figure it’s now or never.
So… I ask him what is it exactly that we are doing? Are we dating? Are we just friends? Are we just friends who have sex occasionally? What? And he’s quiet for a few seconds. Awkward. I say there is no reason for him to feel pressured or cornered or uncomfortable. That I genuinely just want an honest answer. Here’s me paraphrasing the next bit.
T: We are friends.
T: No, I mean we are definitely friends. At the very least.
T: What do you think?
Me: I’d agree with that. At the very least, friends.
T: I think before, until when you didn’t hear from me for awhile, we were dating.
Me: And now?
T: Well did you think that?
Me: I didn’t initially, when we first started going out. Like I told you, I didn’t think you wanted that. But then, for those last several months, we were seeing each other more and more and yes, I felt like we were dating. Which is why it was so disappointing to just suddenly not hear from you for awhile.
T: I know. And I am really sorry about that. I haven’t told you all of it….
So he begins telling me more of what was going on during those months he was incognito. Along with some of the other issues, he tells me about how he really thought he was going to have to go back home. About his frustrations. About not wanting to have to leave. And how, because of the situation he is in, he can’t get comfortable here. He doesn’t know ultimately what will happen. He wants to stay, but between working to pay his bills and school, he’s struggling with both. And fears that, at any moment, one little slipup and he’s gone. And that because of that, he doesn’t know if he should get too close or involved in a serious relationship.
Part of me, trying to understand the situation he is in, sees his point. Another part of me thinks this is the whole wants-his-cake-and-eat-it-too speech. So I ask what is it he would like for me to do. Because one minute he wants to see me more, and the next, he’s unsure. He says he does want to see me and talk to me. That I am the most genuine and real person he’s met here. “A very decent person,” I believe he said. Something like that. Anyway, based on past talks with him, I take it as a very sincere compliment.
So as the conversation (and my drinks) progress, he mentions how some of his friends here (from where he is from) told him he will never make it through school here. Never get his citizenship. Unless…….can you guess what is coming next?
They told him about women here who will do that for a specified monetary exhange. And he laughed and seemed surprised by this. He said, I can barely take care of myself, how am I supposed to take care of a wife and kids. I told him, in that type of arrangement, I think the only “taking care of” you are expected to do is a monthly payment or something. And doubt there would be any kids. So then I’m curious as to just how much thought, if any, he has given this idea. So we talk and joke about it more.
Then we get back to talking about what is it he wants out of being here. Get a degree and go home? Stay here? He wants to stay here. And have the freedom to go home and visit. Right now, if he does that, he is worried something will happen and he won’t get to come back. So I tell him all he can do is focus on the things he has control over. He has to be in school fulltime. He has to earn enough money to live. Those are inflexible. So we talk about different options, jobs, income, etc. I can tell he is overwhelmed and stressed over these things, and has been for some time. And he won’t ever ask for help. So I offer to do some research on student loans, international students, etc and see what I can find. I work with a lot of people who have been in his position and feel certain they could provide some good information.
He tells me I don’t have to do that. I say I know that….again, this is what friends, people who care about each other, do. He again mentions that I am a very decent person. And laughs and says that if he was going to pay someone to marry him, he’d pay me.
Um. A joke? Yes. I think. But still. I’m all speechless and stuff.
Finally I laugh, a little too forced, and say, I’m not going to marry you so you can stay here. We both had said earlier that it was something we hoped to only do once. So we better make damn sure we picked the right person in the first place. He says he knows. He’s just frustrated. I say, if you want something bad enough, you’ll find a way to make it work. Stop worrying about the small stuff and focus on the big picture and the steps you need to take to get there.
So that was pretty much the end of that particular topic of conversation. I guess I really didn’t get an answer to my question. And at the same time, I did.
We walked back over to our cars and stood there, leaning against my car and/or each other, and talked for another 30-40 minutes. About our past relationships. About our friends. About life in general. And whether or not either of us was ready to call it a night. That led to much kissing (and every nerve ending in my body rejoiced…I swear I could kiss this man for hours). And then, sex-starved whore that I am said either come to my place or take me to yours.
We opted for mine. It was closer.
Yay! It was a great night. I miss sex. Sigh. Talked a little more afterwards. I love that he doesn’t just rollover and pass out. It was a great way to wake up, this morning, too. I forget how much I miss waking up with someone. And that groggy-eyed cuddling that leads to wakeup sex. For me, not a morning person AT ALL, it’s always a pleasant mix of being awake and a really good dream. And then after awhile he had to leave. I told him he never really gave me a straight answer. We’ll talk about it some more later, he said. A hug, kiss on the cheek, kiss on the forehead, and he headed home, after grabbing my paper for me from the front yard and loaning me a cd of some music I wanted to hear.
I’m more and less confused about things now than I was before, if that makes sense. Why do I always like either jerks or guys that are, ultimately, unavailable to me? I’m thinking more and more that T falls into the latter category.