In need of closure

Shortly after The Pedant finally broke his silence and responded to my email and texts the other day, I sent him:

“I want to tie you down and run your pretty cock through my hands until you beg me for release.” This was not a request for a visit per se; it’s just what I was thinking about at the time. Although I did want to see him – the sooner the better – to basically have make-up sex. I’ve mostly made my peace with the fact that he goes through periods of bravado and says shit to me that makes it sound like he doesn’t care. His actions say that he does care about me. But for me to be the recipient of his actions he kinda has to be around me, so…

The Pedant responded to my sext: “I think we can arrange that. It’ll be a week or two, though.”

…Fuck. I guess smoothing over our recent rough patch with snuggles and sex isn’t as high on his priority list as it is on mine. Which bothers me. As does the fact that he didn’t specify an actual day to see me. He got a bit better about that shit this time around, but when we were going out the first time he would be so vague with the making of plans that I could swear he was actually trolling me. Like I’d say I wanted to see him and he’d be like “I might have one day of the weekend free.” Just that. Not even telling me which fucking day. I hope he’s not gonna revert back to that bullshit again.

Perhaps he’s still in a bravado phase a little bit and this is why he’s not trying harder to see me. I feel it would be bad strategy, then, to bombard him with attention right now. And I do want to bombard him, yes indeed. Although I’m really big on keeping ulterior motives out of my interactions with people I love, so even if he wasn’t possibly in an aloof phase, I’d be keeping myself from messaging him overly much – because frankly I’m only consumed by the urge to text him right now because I’m feeling insecure about our fight (or whatever you’d call it) and want to say any old shit just to prompt responses. I don’t like that. So I’m not letting myself do it.

It amuses me sometimes (and frustrates me at other times) to think about just how much goes on in this relationship that The Pedant has no idea about. He thinks I don’t know the “real him” when in fact I’ve observed things about him that he doesn’t even know or admit about himself. He knows I suffer from anxiety but he’s only really seen the paralysis and hating-being-in-public parts; he only gets the very, very tip of the iceberg when it comes to the insecurity and paranoia aspect since I’m generally meticulous in keeping that away from him. He probably has no idea that I read his aloof moods and accommodate them, or notice his insecurities and try to subtly reassure him.

I don’t mind doing an unbalanced share of the emotional labour, most of the time. Arguably he does more of other kinds of labour. He spends (what to me feels like) extraordinary amounts of money on restaurant meals for us when he’s over. He helps tidy my apartment. He’s constantly coming up with ideas to make my life easier. By comparison I feel like I don’t do much of anything for him but get him off, and even that is more for me than for him ’cause I like the sounds he makes.

But at times like this I do feel a bit of resentment because, again, at this particular moment he’s not doing anything for me. He’ll (eventually) respond to texts I send him but that’s it. I haven’t gotten a phone call from him in ages. He hasn’t come over in ages. He hasn’t sexted me in ages.

Hopefully he’ll see me soon-ish and we’ll get back on track. I keep remembering how, when he’s come over the past bunch of times, he’s paused mid-foreplay to give me a long, reverent, grateful embrace. Like just palpably pouring devotion into me. I need more of that. Like…right fucking now.

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