Over the weekend, E.S. sent me an e-mail that started out, “If you are not sitting down right now I think you should because we need to talk, or at least I do.” It went downhill from there. He was confused, he wanted to know what we were to each other, thought we were boyfriends but wasn’t sure, knew I was sleeping with other people and was upset about it, etc., etc.
I should have known this was too good to last.
I briefly considered denying sleeping around, but the fact that the tip-off was the bite marks on my ass after the orgy made this an impracticable course of action. The Delaware lesbians offered stopgap therapy, but it was obvious that sooner or later E.S. and I would have to have this out. I spent the rest of the weekend in terror of that moment.
It came last night, and it couldn’t have been more beautiful. We agreed to stay as we have been in terms of commitment and exclusivity, seeing each other a little more often, and not trying to put a name to whatever our relationship is.
Then we went back to his place and had great sex.
I’m trying to find a less healthy lesson in all of this than that my actions have consequences but that I will be able to deal with those consequences in a mature way without messing up my life or anybody else’s, but I’m not having much luck.