It’s beena few days since we spent the day together, and it was amazing. But since then, I’ve felt like I don’t belong here. It’s nothing he’s doing specifically, but... I don’t really know. He was so thoughtful for several mornings and made me breakfast. It truly meant the world to me that he took the time to learn how to cook me an Indian breakfast.
But then it just stopped. He’s been quiet and maybe a little distant.
Tonight’s game isn’t going to help. They got their asses kicked, so I can only imagine he’s not going to be in a good mood.
As I do every time he leaves the house, I listen for the telltale sign of his keys in the lock and then stand in the entry to greet him. I’m not sure why I do this. I guess maybe I just miss him and the silence is so damn loud when he’s gone.
He looks tired when he walks in. I take his gear bag and bring it to the laundry room. Then I join him in the hall again. One of these days, I’m going to learn what his comfort beverage is and make sure I master it so I can offer him a drink when he walks in the door looking defeated.
He gives me a tired smile, and I follow him into the living room. Julian drops onto the couch and rubs his hands over his face. He looks frustrated. I imagine it’s the game he just came home from. I have no idea if Pittsburgh is a good team, but Chicago lost 4-1.
This is probably not a good time, but I feel uneasy today. I need to know.
“Julian?” He looks up, meeting my eyes. “Do you want me to go back to India?” My stomach rolls as the words come tumbling from my mouth.
He frowns. “Why do you think that?”
“I feel like I’m getting mixed signals from you and I’m not sure where you’re at.”
He sighs heavily and leans back on the couch. His eyes are closed. I watch as his chest rises and falls with his breaths for a minute, unsure of what to do. I feel a little fidgety. Standing still feels monumental right now.
When several minutes pass, I ask, “Can I show you something?”
Julian’s eyes open and he glances my way. “Yeah.”
I pull out my phone, and bring up the email with his profile in it. The one that MOS sent me when he chose me. Once I have the line about him being asexual on the screen, I turn it toward him. “This right here is one of the reasons I was so sure that this was the match I was waiting for. You’reexactlythe kind of guy I need and I’m the kind of guy you need.”
Julian’s eyebrows are knitted together when he sees I have his profile up. But as I speak, I watch the lines in his forehead smooth out. I’m glad when a smile curls his lips a little.
“That’s why I chose you, too,” he says. “I’d gone through a lot of profiles and started scrolling specifically to that section. I chose you based on your disinterest in being touched.ThenI read the rest of your profile.”
“Is that the only reason you chose me?”
“Admittedly, that’s the only thing that mattered, but once I read your profile, I… I was convinced that you were perfect.”
“But that changed because I have a dick. One you’re not going to touch, but it’s there,” I say.
Julian laughs. “Arush, trust me when I tell you I’m trying to figure some shit out. I’m probably like 98% straight, but I did have crushes on guys as a kid and teenager.”
“Then I don’t understand why you keep yourself so distant.”
“I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t know what to do. Having a crush on a guy is one thing. Getting involved with a guy is apparently a mountain I’m not sure how to begin scaling.”
“You act like I’m another species,” I say, making him laugh again. I love his laughter. It makes me smile. “Why does it have to be different from being involved with a girl?Especiallysince, for the foreseeable future, sex isn’t on the table, right?”
The only way I can think to interpret his answering expression is relief. “Yeah,” he agrees. I watch his chest inflate as he takes a deep breath. “Can I admit to you that those words are a fucking relief?”
“Yeah?”
Julian nods and drops his head back onto the couch. “I’m not old by any means. I haven’t lived the kind of life that’s made me jaded or bitter. But I have lived long enough and with enough attention on me to realize in my teen years that finding a relationship without sexual expectations is impossible. It’s been incredibly frustrating and when I was drafted to the NHL, I made the decision that it simply wasn’t important to find a girlfriend right now. Hockey is stressful enough. I don’t want to go through my days being stressed about what’s awaiting me at home after a long day of hockey. Is she going to guilt me into having sex with her tonight? Is she going to make me feel likea failure in this relationship because I don’t want to satisfy her? Do I have to give in to make her happy and then spend the rest of the night and into the next day feeling gross in my own skin?”
I touch his hand. “I’m sorry. That must have been shitty.”
He shrugs. “After the third girlfriend, it was an obvious pattern and I was over it. Hockey is a lot of stress. It’s a lot of pressure and time and dedication. What I needed in a partner wasn’t something I was going to find, so I stopped getting involved with anyone.”
“What made you change your mind?”
The smile on his lips makes me smile, too. It’s like he’s thinking about a fond memory. Something that makes him happy.
