I’m done freaking out for now. I’m going to attribute my last post to a combination of jet lag, PMS, and stress. Oh boy, was that ever fun.
Anyway, I owe you all an update on Ben, don’t I? Last we heard of our hero, he was calling me in the US and having online conversations with me that would make the coldest of hearts burn fire engine red. As you all know, I’ve returned home by now (it was a week this past Thursday!) and I had big plans with Ben for the night of my homecoming. That night was, exhausting! Excellent, but exhausting. Tremendous fun, but exhausting. Back-scratching, hair-pulling, toe-curling awesome, but exhausting. Do you get the picture? No? Allow me to elaborate.
I arrived at my apartment at 5:30PM. By 6PM, Ben was calling me asking if I was ready to come over. The obvious answer was no, especially since he is notorious for telling me he is not available until 9 or 10PM, I hadn’t planned on just running out the door. After some heavy negotiation, I agreed to be at his place by 8PM, leaving me two hours to shower, change, and mentally prepare myself for the white night ahead.
At 7:30PM, I texted him that I would be leaving soon and did he want me to pick up cigarettes (a common request). Instead of cigarettes he teasingly informed me that I needed to stop somewhere and pick up vaseline **insert eye-brow arching here**. It was clear that he was trying to be flirty and facetious so, I played along and asked if that was something I could get at the AM/PM market near his apartment. After some back and forthing, I decided that it was worth the shock factor to show up with a little jar, so off I went on my impromptu errand. Two pharmacies later I was finally ready to venture into the lion’s den, contraband in hand. At 8PM I texted him: “on my way!”
ben: “does that mean you are going to be late? I’m not sure that’s how good girls behave, joan…”
me: “well, I would have been on time if I wasn’t sent on an unexpected errand. you should be pleased to know that my errand was successful ;)”
ben: “i should be pleased”
me: “you will be pleased :)”
ben: “god, i’m horny! GET HERE NOW!”
That last message was received just as I was exiting the cab in front of his apartment building. **Ring ring! Ring ring!** Game on.
I wasn’t in the door more than 30 seconds before he was trying to take my clothes off. There were passionate kisses, strong touches, tight grips, and the oh, so sexy sound of his voice in my ear and his breath on my skin describing in detail was was about to happen to me. I’m just going to leave this part to your imagination.
To try and prolong the evening, I stopped him momentarily to tell him that I came over bearing gifts from the good old, US of A. A rubik’s cube, some technology, M&Ms, and finally the vaseline came out. “Wow, Joan,” Ben said with a big grin. “You actually brought the jar! That’s hardcore..” he said reaching for me again. Some more kissing, some more moaning and groaning and petting, then he stopped. “Well, in the spirit of gift giving, I have some things for you too,” Ben said to me with a wide grin.
The first gift was a tea infuser in the shape of a yellow submarine. Both a clever reference to the Beatles, which we frequently bond over, and a thoughtful gift “knowing how much I like tea” as he said. How sweet! Then, a smallish wrapped box with a bow came out. I was instantly intrigued. “I had them wrap this because, well, you’ll see” Ben said. I tore into the packaging as lady-like as I could to discover a shiny new pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs. “Welcome home, baby,” Ben said as I was both looking at him in total surprise and opening the box to see just how fuzzy the fuzzy parts were. I really did not see this gift coming.
The rest of the night was a blur of sex, smoking, and talking. At one point we left the apartment to go get food. After dinner we went to a wine bar and had barely finished one glass each before we were itching to get back to his place to get back at it. We were two people completely absorbed in each other that night. Time stopped. Nothing else mattered. Ben was prepared with movies downloaded, but we never got around to watching them. I only found out in retrospect that this night was taking place, ironically on Tu B’Av (the Jewish version of Valentine’s Day).
Somewhere around 3AM, when we were in the limbo between afterglow and sleeping, I reminded him that I have a birthday coming up. “Can we have a three-some for my birthday?” I asked, more to see if he was listening that anything else. “Ummm..sure, baby. You have someone in mind?” “No. Can’t you find someone?” “I can try…” And with that, we were both asleep, feeling more satisfied than either of us had in a very long time.
But, wait. There’s more. Not only did we wake up in the middle of night and do it again, we did it twice the next morning while we were trying to start the day. It was a perfectly lovely homecoming.
I left that day not expecting to hear from him or see him again for awhile. At least a month, I told myself. To my shock and amazement, Ben and I spoke nearly every day that week and saw each other again, this time at my place, that following Monday night. That night was lovely, too, of course.
Cut to this past weekend. Despite speaking on Wednesday, I was sad and lonely yesterday afternoon so, I texted him with something stupid just to initiate a conversation. No response. The day goes on and on, still no response. This is when I slowly start to slip into my old habits of questioning the state of affairs and assuming that something major (like Ben being stupid and over-thinking) has occurred without my being aware and it was dramatically and permanently altered my friendship with Ben. That’s it. We’re done. I’m not going to hear from him for a long time. My thoughts are spreading like a wildfire taking over and consuming everything in their way in my head.
By this morning, I was over it. I had resolved to believe that once again the Ben ride was over and that it was time to find a new male playmate (which I may have done last night, but that is another story for another post).
An hour ago, my phone rings. Looking at the caller ID, I don’t recognize the number but being an olah hadasha, I have people from various government agencies calling me every other day or so. Imagine my shock when the voice on the other end of the line is Ben! After some pleasant hellos, he says that he saw that I texted him yesterday but his phone didn’t deliver any messages to him until about 5AM this morning, so he wanted to call and let me know that he got my message.
“I messaged you?” I asked trying to play it cool. I’m not sure how successful I was; Ben can usually see right through me. “Was it important?” I asked. I think I got away with it. For some reason, when I freak out, it’s important to me to demonstrate how not freaked out I was even though the other person has no idea that I was freaked out in the first place. I’m insane.
“Don’t you have a birthday coming up?” Ben asked with a smile in his voice. “Why, yes! I do, in fact!” “Wasn’t there something you wanted for your birthday??” Ben asked. Oh shit. He remembers that? I think to myself. “There was? Was did I want?” I ask as innocently as possible. “Think about what you asked me for that night, baby…” … … “Ohhhhhhhh! Did you find someone???” Now I’m committed. “I think I found a candidate,” Ben says. “Not the same one as last time, right?” I say just to be sure I don’t have to endure that again. “No no no no. Not her again. Someone new.”
me: “Is she attractive?”
ben: “Uh, yeah. She is pretty hot..”
me: “I mean, she’s not hotter than me, though, is she? It is MY birthday after all, I don’t want to be competing with anyone…” (said half-jokingly)
ben: “Why no! No one is hotter than you, baby! How could anyone ever be hotter than you?”
I could hear his Cheshire-cat grin over the phone. I have to admit that even though I know those words were said playfully and maybe even a bit facetiously, I appreciated the sentiment to not just say something lame like “well, you’re both hot in two different ways.” Ben knows how to play his cards well.
We left the conversation at that we would talk more later because he’s at work and I’m trying to get work done (see: blogging instead of paper-writing).
So, once again, I was proved an idiot by my over-active negative imagination. The moral of this story is that either the sex is so good he is unwilling to give it up so easily, or that our friendship is redefining friendship rules and he is actually as honest with me as I think he is. There was nothing wrong; you can have your cake and eat it too sometimes.