The Beaufriend (Part II)

So, I don't recall if the beaufriend and I met in college or at a bar. Same difference. I knew him, he knew me. He had left the area for quite some time but I knew he was back around. I hadn't seen him though until December. I went to visit my friend A.Z. and he brought him over to my table so we could "babysit" each other. I was so excited to see him because, well, I'd always liked him. We talked about our travels (he lived in Ireland for a while, I lived in Germany), we discussed politics (anti-Bush), past relationships (they sucked), how long we had been single (him, about a year, me, about a year and a half). Then he asked me the question that raised my radar through the roof. "Do you think you'll ever get married?" Huh? I tripped over that question like a stuttering fool. Do I think? Who knows. Its not like I've had so many quality offers. I'm a difficult person. With the Brittany Spears and J-Los of the world, what does marriage really mean anymore? Obviously more to the homosexuals in Massachusetts than those ladies. If I ever walk down the aisle I want it to be understood that we're stuck forever. Realism not idealism. (Don't get me started) Anyway, we didn't talk for a month. I finally worked up the nerve to call him. Now, here we are. I'm not a happy camper this evening. He's working, which is fine, except this particular aspect of his job makes it necessary to work in a "gentlemen's club." (HI KEVIN!) Broadcasting live. Geez. Its unsettling. Do I think he's getting free lap dances and blow jobs? No. Do I think he's chatting up every abled naked body in the club? Absolutely. Do I think he's enjoying this? In some ways, no, but in some ways, yes, but he'd never admit it because he knows it would hurt my feelings. I know it all has to do with my own insecurities. My past and the fact that I love him. That I'm in love with him. The fact that no matter how hard I fight it, my mind turns to something permanent and I'm getting that slow vibe from him too. We've both been here before. When you begin to believe and trust that this is forever and you get the shit slapped out of you. But somehow we keep moving forward. The fact is, I don't want my man looking at bodies more perfect than mine. LOL! My body isn't what it used to be since Hyper Boy was born. I'm not Pamela Anderson Lee. Okay, maybe the boobs and the hair, or something close, or so I like to think!! Hahhahahhahha. And I know that he loves my brain as much as he loves my body. Its a balance. And I love his body too. He's not perfect in the eyes of society but he's perfect in my eyes. LOVE IS BLIND FOLKS!! He's got broad shoulders like a line-backer and I love football, not as much as him, but I do love it. (I also love hockey!) We don't like being bored therefore the bedroom action is intense, sweaty and a hell of a good time. I think his hair is longer than mine but I tend to forget that he even has long hair. Except for weekend before last when I came so hard I lost all sense of time and what fucking planet I was on and ended up with my hands tangled in it so bad I thought I was going to pull it out by the roots. Luckily he said I didn't hurt him. I've noticed too that he doesn't take much stock in what people say if they don't follow through. I told him that the folks I work with have been encouraging me to go to massage school. I have naturally strong hands I suppose and empathically know where it hurts and how to make it feel better so I offered him a massage. His response after a few minutes was, "wow, you are good at this." ??? YEAH! I guess he won't believe what a good dancer I am until I get one of those removable poles and show him. Hmmmmm....