He’s myboyfriend, and Iamthe problem right now.
That word hits me, truly for the first time since all of this started.
Boyfriend.
Even when I stood in front of Hudson, just a month ago, and told him Ilikedhim as more than a friend, I hadn’t grasped the word. I knew I wanted to be with him. I still want to bewith him.But I didn’t think we needed a label to move forward with things, we just… needed to do what felt right for us and not overthink things. Not muchfeltlike it changed after we agreed to try an actual relationship. We still talked every day, and I still found myself looking forward to those texts and phone calls. But it’s not like we were suddenly gushing over the phone about our future or how badly we missed one another or having phone sex or sending shirtless selfies to one another. It wasn’t like we were being… well, romantic, I guess, in the way I’musedto being when I’m in a new relationship with someone.
I take a long pull of my beer, letting the alcohol hit me.
Maybe that’s my problem.
Maybe Hudson doesn’t feel like my boyfriend because I’m not being myself with him, the way I would be in a typical relationship. I mean, of course I’m myself with him, and don’t get me wrong, physically, I feel like we’re on the same page. I definitely don’t feel like Hudson’sfriendwhen he’s moaning my name or when I have his dick in my mouth—which I am finding that the more I do it, the more I kind of don’t mind it—but outside of the physical stuff…
It’s different. Outside of our bubble, I don’t know who tobeor how to act when it isn’t just us, anymore. I want to touch him. Like… all the time, but I’m also not sure if that’s something he’s comfortable with, judging by the few times Ihavehugged him in public, to which both times he got a little standoffish, so…
Hudson is the first person I have ever taken thingsslowwith, and that fact is not lost on me.
I’m notscaredof being with him, though that’s probably what he thinks now, and part of me feels like even if I tell him I’m not, he won’t believe me. And I can’t say that I’d blame him, either. But the truth of the matter is we haven’t even gone on adateyet. A real one. Something I was hoping to rectify on this trip, but haven’t had the chance to yet. I don’t count running to Target for placemats and tablecloths and an impromptu dinner because we didn’t want to cook, a date. At least it’s not the kind of date Hudson deserves from me. I had this stupid idea I’d give him these tickets I bought for him for Christmas, since I know he hates surprises, but gifts aresupposedto be a surprise, and I know his schedule. I thought he’d open it, see the tickets to the silent disco, and then I’d make us reservations and take him out and just…
Be a good boyfriend.
Hisboyfriend.
And then I realize that I’ve never even said thewordout loud to myself.
“Boyfriend.” It comes out barely a whisper, even though there’s no one here but me.
I’ve never considered myself a touchy-feely guy or like… an emotional person; one that needs physical affection or obvious endearments to feel loved or cared for, but…
I realize as I sit here, tasting that word on my tongue for the first time, that maybe Ido.
Maybe I need to hear those things, feel that affection the way Hudson needs the words to feel the same thing.
I look at my phone that’s staring at me from its spot on the coffee table. I shouldn’t text him. He’s upset, and rightfully so, because I’m an idiot, and I should give him the space he wants. It would be the smart, reasonable thing to do.
But I can’t. I can’t just sit here, wondering what he’s thinking about me, about us. About the fact he might decide I’m not worth it.
My chest tightens because I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve dated lots of women over the years, and been broken up with plenty of times, but none of those times ever left me feeling like this. I’m not sure what I can do to change his mind, or make him understand that this… it doesn’t have anything to do with me not wanting tobe with him.
I just… need time, I think.
Time to figure out who I amwithhim. Time to figure out how to navigate all of this, including my feelings.
I almost told him I love him. Granted, it was in the heat of the moment but I stopped myself. Not because I didn’twantto tell him how I felt, but because I didn’t want to scarehim.We’d barely scratched the surface with calling each otherbaby, and he hadn’t even called me his boyfriendprivately.Saying those words…
I didn’t want Hudson to think I’m some clingy, overemotional guy and get weirded out… or worse, feel uncomfortable or like I’m moving too fast.
How is it that everything is happening so fast, but somehow also so fucking slow?
I drain the last of my beer and set it down on the coffee table, my phone pulling my attention.
I reach for it and pull up our text thread. He hasn’t texted me, not that I expect him to, given everything that’s happened today.The store. The conversation in the car. Me panicking and pissing him off.
Part of me thinks I should just let this go, get a shower and go to bed, maybe sort this out in the morning. A good night’s sleep could be good for the both of us, and I’ve been drinking—though I’m not anywhere near drunk, I do have a little bit of a buzz, but not enough to make me feel better about being a shitty boyfriend, apparently.
I know if I don’t say something, I’ll lie awake all night thinking about it, like I’ve been doing ever since he left. So I text him anyway, even though I’m sure he won’t text me back tonight.
Me
