This is a continuation of the last two blog posts….
It was at that first happy hour that I drilled him several times to find out what he had been doing for the last 20 years. He had been divorced for 14 of those years, and I couldn’t honestly believe he hadn’t met someone else or even remarried for that matter. I had remarried and had another child! Finally at the end of the evening, he said he had a “lady friend”. He made it sound very casual, said he was never going to get remarried, and they definitely had their differences. I didn’t probe for any more information, but my heart sank–he wasn’t single.
For the next seven months, though, he continued to text and call me throughout the week to meet him for happy hour. Sometimes happy hour started at 4 p.m. for us, and sometimes it started at 6 p.m.–whenever I could get out of the office. It was mostly always on Tuesday night and at the same sports bar, which was about a 15-minute drive for him and only 2 miles from my house. He would send me little texts throughout the week, often times out of nowhere. I’d be cooking dinner, and all of a sudden a text would come from him asking me if I was watching a certain football game or if I was catching up on work, something I do frequently in the evenings.
Every night that we left the sports bar, he gave me a very quick hug. Every time, I hoped he would kiss me, or at least pull me a little closer to his body as he hugged me. I started to fill in the gaps–why did he continue to ask me to happy hour when he was in a relationship with someone else. Maybe “lady friend” was really just a “friend”. But why didn’t he kiss me or hug me tighter? He rarely flirted with me at the bar–never touched my leg or put his hand on me anywhere. This was not what it was like 20 years ago when we briefly met. He had his hands all over me that time. Maybe he was being truly faithful to his lady friend, but then why did he continue to ask me to meet him over and over and over.
After about six months of this, it seemed his asks to happy hour, as well as his texting and calling me late at night started to accelerate. He was calling me at least 2-3 times a week, and we would talk for almost two hours every time he called. If I was busy with something, he seemed like he wanted to know what I had been doing–a bit of a jealousy perhaps?
I was so confused, yet I never asked what was going on. I would have one, two and then three beers at our happy hours and try and work up the courage to ask him why on earth we were continuing to meet for happy hour. Was there really a lady friend, or had I imagined that he said that–maybe he said it in past tense–I HAD a lady friend. He never mentioned her, ever. Why was I chicken to ask? I didn’t want to be rejected. I didn’t want him to say, “Oh, I just enjoy the conversation.” I wanted to know that he felt something for me. I wanted to hear that he was buying time until he broke things off with his lady friend. I didn’t even know how long he had been seeing his lady friend. Every day, round and round my brain would circle with every scenario in the book as I tried to fill the gaps as to what was really going on.
And why was I doing this? Because I had fallen for him again–hook, line and sinker. The way he would slightly laugh and shake his head. The way he would tell me the same stories over and over again, but I still liked to hear them, because, well, it was his voice–it is by far the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. I would look at him, and just hope this time when we walked to the car that he would grab me, pull me close to him and kiss me like he had in the past.
Then one evening, I asked him to come over to my house, and he came. After three beers and two hours of mindless conversation, I finally mustered up the courage.
“What’s going on between us?” I asked.
He said, “What do you mean…do you want me to sit closer to you?”
And then I let it all out. He took it as I was interested in something more, and I was quick to point out that the signals he was sending said he was interested in something more. He seemed shocked that I was interested in something more–said he had no clue. Really? Did I just show up every time you asked me, because I literally had nothing else to do?Yes, there was a lady friend, a relationship that had been going for a long time (approximately 12 years from what I gathered). He described it as “difficult and complicated”, and a situation that wasn’t going to change any time soon. They would never get married or live together, they don’t do sleep overs, and they have little to no physical contact. “Why is it difficult and complicated?” I asked. He couldn’t answer me, and totally admitted he didn’t answer my question.
And so, now what…seven months of just hanging out with someone for conversation? Only to find out that he’s probably never going to break it off with his lady friend? How much of this story was I supposed to actually believe? Isn’t this what they all say? What do I do now? Continue to meet him for happy hour and just stare wishfully past him and pretend that I can just be friends when the urges to touch him are bubbling up inside of me?
I told him that night that I couldn’t or wouldn’t be the other woman again. My words were, and continue to be, “It sucks. I can’t text you when I want to. I can’t call you when I want to. It sucks.”
And he said, “I know.”