The temperature had fallen fast as a summer shower was beginning to form in the distance. The cool air and stiff breeze behind us made the last few miles of the bike ride much more enjoyable. I was giddy with glee at the decision I had made , at the prospect of inviting K to share her life with me in every way. I couldnt wait to get home and talk about it, to set the plan in motion. There would be no need to story surf tonight. So, HA TO YOU, all you writtne word vacuums trying to suck me in. I am ging to just say NO.

Exhausted, we reach the house and put the bikes in the garage. K keeps one of her rides at my place since she has very little room at hers. A bigger house for two will solve that problem and a lot more I hope.

As we approach the front door, K turns off her music and touches my arm and says,Hey hon, I forgot to tell you, I gotta go do that stuff with those guys at the shelter this evening. Itll be late so Im just gonna go to my place when Im done. .

OH MY GAWD, K has just sabotaged our future without even knowing it. Even before I have an opportunity to tell her how great the day was, to thank her for her love, to ask her to stay – forever – she tells me she is leaving. I feel a slight twinge in my neck – a crack in my resistance.

What? On a Sunday? Whats that all about, babe? I ask trying to sound more interested than disappointed. But I am disappointed, very disappointed.

K designs furniture and work spaces for small businesses. Its not interior design, god dont say that to her or youll end up getting a 45 minute explanation of the difference. To be honest Im not sure what the ***** it is she does. All I know is that she is good at what she does and has clients lined up into next year. But the word got out that she donates time and pieces to certain charitable organizations. Ever since, every non-profit group east of the Mississippi needing money, furniture or advice calls. And of course she cant say no. Tonight it is the local ASPCA – they want her to help design dog houses or some such nonsense. Do not ask me cause I dont know nor do I want to. Most of the time she invites me along, says she could always use free labor — but tonight she doesnt.

The point is — she is not staying and Im not just casually going to throw out the idea of us co-habitating . . . No, were gonna sit and chat and plan and give this some real serious thought.

I didnt have any other time to meet with them this week, she tries to explain. Im sorry for not telling you sooner, but I got so caught up in the great time we were having that it just slipped my mind. Let me make it up to you.

She grabs me, pulls as close to her as physically possible without me actually ending up inside her skin, lifts and wraps one leg around my backside then starts to kiss me. And all this while were still standing on the front porch!

After what seemed like an hour of a teenage makeout session, I break the liplock, take a breath and tell her that is OK – I didnt have anything special planned for us this evening anyway. (LIAR)

We are both smelly and sweaty and slightly sunburned in a farmers tan sort of way. As if we could read each others mind, we start to strip off our clothes once inside the doorway, piece by piece, leaving a trail of garments leading to the bathroom. We are going to take a shower and we are going to have ***** – each of us having a different reason for doing so. Ks actions are passionate in an apologetic sort of way – – a feeble yet sincere attempt to make up for not staying. Mine are more of the desperate please dont leave me alone tonight kind of actions. Motives dont really matter cause we do it three, four, whatever, the number of times is irrelevant — we do it until we have achieved our intended goals. Ks actions are successful – I am weak, I am pathetic, I accept her apology. Mine attempt at desparate ***** on the other hand have failed – K is still leaving.

She dresses and kisses me on the top of my wet hair as she walks out the door. Shell call sometime tomorrow she says. I am lying on the couch defeated, trying to read the book about the ex undercover woman police officer. For some reason it hasnt captured or held my attention. And thats when I FEEL IT — the actual physical symptoms associated with addiction. I start to sweat and shake and feel like I am going to faint or puke or both. Not because its hot in the living room or I havent any dinner yet. No I feel this way because I need a fix – I need to check the computer – I need to see if SHE has written anything today – I need to go to L.

This feeling is so overwhelming that the imagined heat in the room becomes oppressive and the walls are beginning to close in on me. I sit up and put my head between my knees trying to control the panic welling up inside me. I need food. I take several deep breaths, get up and stagger to the kitchen. I grab a Mt. Dew and a handful of powdered sugar donuts (my favorite *****-you-for-leaving-me-alone meal) and head toward the small bedroom because that is where the computer is.

F*CK HER AND HER STORY – – – F*CK K – – – I slur the words in my head — JUST LOG ME IN NOW — I NEED TO READ . . . I am going to L straight to L . . .


TBC