"Dude, I am the absolute epitome of sexual frustration. Plus I really miss you." She text Nameless. She knew it was a little risky to expose that she felt literally anything for him.
"Hahahaha...I mean I am sorry." Was his reply. He said he was sure she was still playing the field She countered with her tale about The Final Straw and how she deleted the dating apps. He said it was few and far between on his dating scene as well, but it was a strange conversation. Because they took so much time in-between talking she didn't think anything of it and moved along with her life.
A month or so later he was coming into town, but said he'd be available later in the evening. She said that she would make dinner plans and just wait for his text. He texted that he'd have to cancel and would explain later. He drunk texted "I was not expecting this" and then didn't text her back for 14 days.
"The main reason I bailed was because I had had a date. I thought it the best thing since I didn't trust myself to just 'hang out' with you (I am a guy and all). I was out late with a handful of professors and got drunk...I even drunk texted you, sorry."
"So then why did you even tell me you were coming into town? Just wondering." She replied. She was almost happy she was out with her ex and his best friend and highly distracted from the conversation where she was losing her beneficial situationship.
"I made plans with you before I even met her. It was only the day before I left that we confirmed a second date. It all happened kinda qick. Next I was up there and realized I needed to cancel...like I said said, sorry."
"Dude, we aren't exclusive. You don't have to be sorry, just be a bit more open and honest would be nice. So did you end up seeing her?"
He fumbled through multiple messages: "Not sorry for that..fuck I know that...sorry for last minute canceling. And yeah I've seen her a few times now. I actually meant to talk to you later that week about it. Didn't want to jinx it...you know. But I've been busy with work, this new experiment is a shit show. I have to play captain save a hoe and fix it. And I kinda have...a little."
She stopped responding for the night, she was distracted by the conversation she was having in front of her. It was still emotionally difficult to be with her ex.
When she got home she re-read the messages and started to cry. It was the dishonesty and leaving her on read that really upset her. KSL listened to her bitch and get upset while he busied himself in the kitchen.
The next morning she sent the text "Sorry I was out with friends last night so I didn't give this my full attention. It's been fun, and I hope it works out with your experiment and this girl."
He never texted back.
She started on a bit of a man-hating spiral. The only male influence she got on a regular basis was her ex, who gave her puppy dog eyes of hurt every time they spent time together, and KSL was so down on himself about never being in a relationship again that she was starting to think every man was like this.
Think, no, believe every man was like this. All those romance novels, the movies, the real life relationships she saw...it was all bullshit. KSL was right. It was never going to happen because it didn't actually exist. It was a lie she thought was going to happen.
She was getting into some serious man hating when she stumbled upon a New York Times Modern Love article. "I'm not sure if we fall in love with people, or if we fall in love with the way they make us feel."
This gave her pause. This wasn't really about Nameless at all. In fact, the reality was as a demisexual and an empath she was indeed just addicted to the way people made her feel.
The article continued:
"It's about honoring what happened. You met a person who awoke something in you. A fire ignited. The work is to be grateful. Grateful every day that someone crossed your path and left a mark on you."
She decided to do the work.
She remembered how funny it was that he had come back around in a way that she managed to go out on a date with him without knowing his name. She remembered how great their conversations were. He would take her out to nice dinner and let her rage about how the local theatre system was broken, and the steps that needed to be taken to fix it. He would listen, really listen. He knew when she was being serious and when she was being funny, and walked alongside it effortlessly. He didn't pull away from her whenever she got closer to him. He read her in a way that no one else had for a long time, while still being himself. Their balance had been perfect. Why let the end sour all that?
She thought back, not to their sex or intimacies, but to a small moment when they had exited a bar to move on to a more quiet run, and just walked along in a comfortable silence in the rain, hand in hand.
