Here's to Better Days

I’ve come to the conclusion (not for the first time, probably not the last) that the only way I can maintain any semblance of sanity is to distance myself from L. Obviously that doesn’t mean not seeing her; I still love her, as does the wife, and even if I did want us to stop hanging out, it would be difficult to explain to the wife.

But I do need to stop this infatuation, this obsession I have with L. I need to stop the innuendos, the offers of pics, the requests for details of her dalliances. Yes, it’s exciting and gratifying, but it also is part of why I go through such turmoil when she’s doing what she does. I need to stop thinking of her as a lover, or fuck-buddy, or sibling-with-benefits, and start thinking of her as my sister. Only my sister.

Of course, that’s much, much easier to type here than to do. It’s called “obsession” for a reason, and if it was easy to stop it wouldn’t really be an obsession, would it?

Case in point: last Saturday, more or less out of nowhere, she texted me, joking (so I thought) that she needed someone to practice kissing with. Me being me, I texted back that I volunteered and we had a chuckle over it. Now, this was after the stayover but before telling me she was planning to meet with the guy the next day.

Yesterday she explained that it wasn’t really that she needed practice kissing. She’s worried about something, and though I told her I’d never noticed it she’s gotten it in her head that this is a big deal and needs reassurance. I told her I’ll check on it the next time we’re together, but between us and this blog no kissing is necessary for this.

Today she texted me to ask if I was definitely volunteering to be the “kiss tester”. I contemplated telling her no, and explaining all the reasons why, but realized that would be such a bad idea at this point, especially over text. So I simply answered back “when have I ever not?” She laughed, said “true”, and we left it at that.

I’m kind of banking on it being a while before she has time to spend with us, and will likely have changed her mind by then. I’m hoping that if she hasn’t, I’ll have a plausible excuse not to (Covid-19, a cold sore, something along those lines.) But I also fantasize about how that conversation will go. Even in my fantasies I lose control of the narrative and fuck it up.

So now I'm outside, enjoying a nice cigar, a pleasant Scotch, and a calming buzz that's leaving me both content and a little melancholy for reasons I can't entirely explain, or even understand. I want to talk to someone about these feelings, and you, dear readers, are the chosen. It's not quite the same, as you aren't here to share in my cigars and Scotch (currently a 12-year-old Glen Fidditch), but it is an acceptable substitute. And if you don't have a taste for cigars and/or drink, that's okay.

Stay safe and virus free, my friends. I'll write again, soon or not, with an update of a hopefully better state of mind. It will take time, but I trust it will happen.