So, he came in and I greeted him. He hugged me slow and long (it was good hug) and said I miss you. I laughed, he said I do. He changed into the Santa suit in my office, I came in after and helped with the belt and coat fasteners. It was hard to do them up and not rip them off. It felt intimate and really really good.
We flirted and touched and flirted. He helped me pass around food. At one point he made a comment about me already dumping him twice. (Dammit, it caught me off guard but if I had my time back I would have been all witty and nonchalant saying third time’s a charm.) (As I pulled his pants off.) (Just kidding.) (Not really.)
I was just happy to have him there. It felt good. Fuck, I’m so crazy about him.
Then I looked at the door and saw his girlfriend standing there.
I went over and said hello, asked if she was here to see Unionguy, she said yes, I told him, he said yeah she wanted to see him in his Santa outfit and didn’t go talk to her until a while later.
And the whole world crashed down around me. Not really, but it was shitty. I wanted to be sad, I wanted to be mad at him, I wanted to cry, I did none of those things. It felt like a slap in the face by reality, though. If I didn’t have someone coming in later to sign a lease, I would have gone home and cried my heart out.
Fortunately, I didn’t get to leave until three hours later and by then I had talked some sense into myself. He did nothing wrong. I did nothing to be embarrassed about. She is fucking stiff and no fun but that’s his problem and his choice.
Nothing has changed for me. I’m out of my mind crazy about him and I want to be with him. He will either feel the same and we will be together eventually or he won’t. I will have these feelings until I don’t. I don’t know what the future holds.I like him. I probably love him. I want him. I want to fuck him. I want to spend time with him. I want to know him. I want to argue with him and touch him and sleep with him and breath the same air as him. That’s all I know right now.
So I’m going to get rip-roaring drunk, make supper, possibly cry my head off, possibly go out and shovel the driveway, probably hate myself for the next couple of days due to the enormous hangover I plan to inflict on myself. And life will go on.
I still believe in Santa Claus. I also believe in me. And I believe that everything will turn out for the best. Because it does. Also a little drunk already. Film at 11.