Too close to home

“Maybe he’s waiting for us to be done,” he says, leering at me from across the couch. If the movie has distracted me, his comment brings me back. I make a face at him as I press my cellphone to my ear.

“Hello?”

I wince as I feel a jab in my side. I slap his hand away and abruptly stand. “Hey, where are you?” I know I sound annoyed, and he probably thinks he’s to blame.

“Just finishing up. What are you doing?”

That accent of his makes me melt. I never used to care for it — too common around these parts — but his voice is white honey.

“I’m waiting for you,” I say. It’s an emphatic statement, not just for his benefit, but for his housemate’s too.

“On my way home.”

As I return to the couch, Loup sighs, then tells me in no uncertain terms that he is horny. I find myself irritable, but not because he wants me. I’d readily have him, if only –

My relationship with Gar is open, and Loup knows that. But Gar and I have not yet talked about what that actually means on the practical side. We’ve set virtually no agreements, no boundaries, and the only thing he’s said of it is that he doesn’t want to know.

And I know that this don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy isn’t necessarily a go-ahead for an open relationship, but a sign that he’s uncomfortable with it — uncomfortable talking about it, thinking about it. My last dramabomb involved just this sort of misunderstanding, and though it worked out well in the end, I want to avoid causing that sort of pain again.

So Loup will have to wait until I have a firmer answer.

He is restless. He’d spoken with Gar earlier that afternoon about me. Don’t know how things are between you two, she’s cute, how would you feel if I — all that sort of delicate guy talk. Gar’s only noteworthy comment (at least according to Loup) was that what happens between us — between me and Loup — is strictly our business.

So, when Gar had told him that he wouldn’t be coming home tonight, with the both of them knowing full well that I was going over for drinks, there had only been one conclusion in Loup’s mind. He’d been given the go-ahead.

And I really do wish it had been that simple. If only we could agree to be open and agree to be supportive, and that would be that. But no. “It’s a completely foreign concept to me,” Gar said at last.

I was afraid of that. But ultimately it’s not something either of us can fight. I’ve committed to my open relationships now, and I’m not giving them up. Nor is he letting go of his preference for exclusivity. So we shift into friends-only gear and move on.

We agree to stop falling into his bed every week. But nothing else changes — we still see each other 3-4 times a week at his workplace, my social base. We still SMS every other day. And he’s still an absolute sweetheart to me. I wasn’t ready for this to end, and he knew that. So maybe it’s still too early to tell if the stopsex directive is all that’s changed since I know that he’s being extra-supportive right now.

And Loup? I don’t know if he’s gotten the update yet. I don’t want to be the one who tells him because I don’t want him to expect something soon. Something probably will happen, in time. But now isn’t right. I need to know I’m not damaging anybody’s relationships — especially domiciliary.

Hands in my back pockets, then. This messiness is of my own making, just the sort of thing I’m chasing down. My deviancy is my life. And there’s something sweet and forbidden about living vicariously through myself, for a change. I’m in it for myself and my lovers, and I’ll do my best to see that no-one else gets hurt.