Some mail for Minx came to the apartment today, and also I had a couple of DVDs of his that he’d left behind when he moved out, so he came over to pick stuff up and hang out with me and Bastardcat for a while.
I don’t feel especially attracted to Minx anymore, which is a relief. And there wasn’t much to talk about; like I’ve said before, he doesn’t really do much. I had lots of stuff to tell him about my burgeoning modelling career but that’s about it.
He asked if I was doing any open life drawing classes that I wouldn’t mind him coming to (he draws). Meh, he’s seen me naked a zillion times; who cares? I gave him the date and location of my next one. Annnnd then I immediately remembered what a critical bastard he is, and wished I hadn’t said anything. I can guarantee that if Minx sees me pose, he’ll try to give me tips for improvement at some point – and I do not want to hear them. When we were living together he picked away at every damn thing I said or did until I was so self-conscious I was practically paralyzed. I do not want to go through that again.
Chances are, Minx won’t make it out to my class. He’s pretty flaky like that. If he does come out – and if he starts giving me “helpful” hints about my job that I’ve been doing for half a year and getting amazing compliments on – I’m going to say “I didn’t ask you” and walk away.
Anyway, back to today’s visit. Minx offered me foot-squishes (his very own brand of super-hard massage that wrings the tension out of my feet like nothing else) and I received the squishes gladly. Normally a good foot-squish tends to make me cry from the tension release, but not today. Presumably because I have my guard up; Minx is not my boyfriend and barely even a friend, and I only feel comfortable crying in front of people I’m close to.
In-between squishes, Minx kind of sneakily/tentatively caressed my feet, too. Sneakily/tentatively because he’s aware that this is very much a sexual thing for me and that we are not sex partners. I enjoyed the sensations but yeah, it felt a bit wrong emotionally.
Despite the conversation being kind of stilted and Minx telling me ahead of time that he wouldn’t stay long, he just kept hanging around and hanging around. I showed him a funny episode of How I Met Your Mother on Netflix just to fill the silence. As we talked/watched Netflix/whatever, Minx would occasionally give my arm a companionable little pet; once he was bold enough to reach up and run his hand over the back of my head.
And, y’know, the touching and togetherness were nice…until I started telling Minx a piece of good news that I guess I’d told him before and he mildly said “Yeah, you told me that.” He used the same gentle, encouraging tone that normal people use when someone is telling them happy news for the second time, but it still made me flash back to all the different times he would irritably snap “You told me that already” when I’d repeat myself.
I’m sure Minx is on his best behaviour with these visits and if we started hanging out more often, he’d eventually sink back into his old prickish habits. The foot squishes aren’t worth that. My resolve, she has been strengthened.
When he finally left, Minx initiated a huge long hug, which I returned but did not particularly need. It’s bizarre how much our now-dead relationship feels like a figment of my imagination. I used to love him with all my heart and now he’s just some guy I know.
This transition makes me sad, especially because it makes me wonder whether I was really in love in the first place. Surely, if Minx is a human being with whom I had the capacity to fall in love, there should still be something special and shiny about him that makes him stand out from the crowd, even though we don’t work as a couple? But there’s not. He’s not exceptionally attractive or funny or interesting. Did I manufacture feelings for this boy because I was sick of being single? What a depressing thought. Probably not as depressing as the idea that real love can just die, though.
So the fact that I feel almost nothing for Minx is making me sad, but the actual fact of seeing Minx is not. I didn’t even cry once he’d gone, like I used to when the breakup was fresh.
I guess I’m healing.