OKC boy texted me a video on Saturday. He was lying in bed, t-shirt on, but naked from the waist down. His cock was in full view. He lazed back on his bed watching porn while masturbating.
I watched the video, noting how I was somewhat turned on, yet also somewhat turned off.
The thought that came to mind as the video ended: http://thelittersitter.com/ZdkQZ/services/ I need a break.
I didn’t respond to the video.
Later that day, he texted, ‘Did you get that?’ I didn’t text back.
I promised myself, as I crashed from a long day of work Saturday night, that I wouldn’t do the shitty thing. I wouldn’t just ignore him. I wouldn’t do The Fade Away. I would be adult about it. I would talk to him.
On Sunday, he messaged me again.
‘No. What’s up?’
‘Did you get the video?’
‘Are you in a place where you can talk on your phone?’
I called him. After the pleasantries, I baby-stepped my way to my concerns.
I prefaced my explanation, noting that I needed to explain how my brain worked, and then I’d talked about what I needed, and then I’d ask how he felt about it.
I reminded him how, from the beginning, he said he just wanted to be friends who fucked. Also I spoke about how I had said I would be open to more than that, if he wanted. But, until he says anything different, we would just be friends who fucked.
Then I spoke about how, the more I interact with him, the more I like him. The more feelings that one would have for someone who is more than just a friend keep emerging, growing.
To me, it is obvious that I like him more than he likes me, and that’s okay because we’ve established the parameters of our interactions. I can keep my feelings in check if we stay within our script.
However, when looking back on all of our texting, it has almost always been initiated by him and it almost always revolved around sex. I told him how I felt uncomfortable with this. The implication in my mind was that he only wanted me for sex, and that made me feel shitty. Where was the friend part of the equation?
Henceforth, I proposed a new rule: I wanted a texting timeout. He could send one sexy text per day, to which I would respond, and that would be it. One text; one response. If he sent more, I would not answer.
Then it was his time to talk.
He reaffirmed his desire to be my friend. He enjoyed our sex, but wanted to point out how much he liked me as a person. He cited our time at Ren Faire as one instance where he felt we were cool together.
He made a counter offer: one sexy conversation and one non-sexy conversation per week. I felt that was fair, and agreed.
We went on to talk for another fifteen minutes about our lives, sans-sexy stuff. He spoke about his new job, settling into his new locale. I spoke about school and how well it’s been going. The conversation was pleasant. I then bid him adieu to go for a run on my roommate’s treadmill.
He texted me this morning.
I didn’t respond.
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