Thursday night, I returned from my run with the pup to learn I'd missed a phone call from The Southern Gentleman. During our last conversation a month or so before, he'd been a little cagey venting about the careless actions of someone he knew. I had surmised the vagueness equaled a girlfriend. This phone call revealed that the previous story indeed was about a girlfriend.
Why should that upset me? After all, I sorta have a sorta telephone man friend. The Southern Gentleman and I have never openly declared a mutual undying love. But it still hurt hearing about her, the woman who is taking for granted the man that I cannot shake from my being.
Theirs is a long distance relationship that has been in existence about six months. They live on opposite sides of the country. I get the impression he is the one who goes to see her, every four to six weeks. The Southern Gentleman spoke at length about his frustrations, his thoughts, his feelings. The conversation was very one-sided where I merely listened to his inner dialogue being spoken for the first time. He is not impressed with the distance as he said that it has taken much longer to start seeing her more comfortable self. I agreed that there is the rub, whenever the distance is removed for a weekend, it is vacation time. A lesson I learned the hard way and later resulted in a divorce.
She is in her early thirties and lives at home with her parents. He is in his late thirties. The general impression is she is a spoiled brat; while, the main theme was that he is done with her. She flipped that he'd be staying with a female platonic friend when he attended an out-of-town event over the weekend. At that point, the conversation began to incorporate where I fell into the grand picture. He said that he explained to girlfriend that he had long time girlfriends, completely platonic, like me. He went on to say that he has actually spoken about me at great length, on several occasions. That we've shared the same bed together many times. As he really tried to careful select his words, he finally decided to share, "and few times we almost collided."
He then begins my inquisition to determine if I am dating anyone. I did not share with him the story of the shadow dwelling in Georgia. I did share my frustration at being alone despite all the positives.
Before you know it, The Southern Gentleman jumps to speaking of coming to see me and the pup. I wonder where he will sleep when he comes here next. While I tell him that he is always welcome and I would love to see him, on the inside I am reeling from the diametrically opposed messages: talked about a great length but yet nothing more.
I know I shouldn't care. But I also cannot rid myself of the feelings and sparks that I feel when we are together. A connection that has not faded in eleven years. Not for me. Not for him. Maybe I am rationalizing. But he is the self-proclaimed hater of talking on the phone, so why does every call he places to me last a minimum of one hour? Instant responses to email? Even if he is on the other side of the world? Everything he says he won't do, he does with me, for me. Not even my bestest gay friend keeps such close tabs on me.