Touché

"I want to tell you that I truly care about you. I love being wrapped in your arms. I love your company. I would do anything for you. I love you," he said.

That was Saturday.

I saw him later that night, well actually early Sunday morning, when I went to the apartment he was at (that wasn't his own). I was unsure of how things would go because I couldn't reciprocate the feeling of love. Like? Absolutely. Love? No. I expected to talk, but we fell into bed together immediately. We had the best sex of our "relationship." Afterward, as we're laying in bed, he tells me that he hates me because of the way I make him feel and that he doesn't like not being in control.

Later, I asked, "So, what's the story of who lives here?" (I don't normally fuck in strangers' beds, but it seemed right at the moment.)

"We're at K's apartment. She moved to Houston because she's in love with me and has been for 8 years. She's been here for about four months."

Whoa! Are you kidding me?

"Oh," I say. "Well ... I'd like to leave now. I don't want to die tonight."

I leave, he comes with me, and he tells me a bit more of the story. He swears that they haven't been together neither now nor in the past. I believe him. He also tells me that a co-worker is in love with him, and her marriage is in trouble because of it. It honestly never occurred to me that he might have women chasing after him. I feel a bit put off by it and I'm put off that I'm put off by it.

As we drive up to my apartment, there are more cars outside than usual.

He asks, "Whose cars are all these? Are you cheating on me? Are these boyfriends of yours?"

"First, we're not in a committed relationship. Second, I'm not seeing anyone else."

"Oh, is that how it is?"

We go into my apartment and I fall asleep on the couch as we watch The Tao of Steve. When I'd seen the movie the first time, I'd likened him to the main character and had mentioned it to him. He was seeing the movie for the first time. We crawled into bed at the end of the movie and laced our limbs together in a way that would have exhibited comfort to a bystander (not that I often have bystanders in my bedroom).

On Sunday, we woke up and I took him back to the apartment of the girl who has (perhaps) wasted eight years of her life pining for a man who isn't interested in her.

I spent the rest of the day wondering ... and wondering.

Yesterday, Monday, found no communication between us. It was odd.

Today, I text him and say, "Are you retreating?" in reference to the movie we (or he) watched early Sunday morning.

The Tao of Steve has three main tenets:

1. Eliminate your desires.
2. Do something excellent in her presence, thereby proving your sexual worthiness.
3. Retreat, for as Heidegger said, "We pursue that which retreats from us".

I received no response. I also resolve not to contact him again. I don't like games.

Tonight, at almost 11pm, he sends a text that says, "Free?"

I consider it for a moment since it's late and respond, "Yes."

"And?" he asks.

A minute later, he sends another, "Do you want me or not?"

I decide that merits a phone call. I also decide that he's probably intoxicated.

I call and, sure enough, he's been drinking. He wants me to come get him. I waffle. It's late. I'm not feeling exceptionally well. But it also sounds like he's had a shitty day and, if we're being completely honest here (and that's the point of anonymity), I wanted to see if we could manage amazing sex again. I only hesitate a moment when he tells me that he's at K's apartment.

As I drive over there, I start to feel nervous. I'd heard him speak to her on the phone on Sunday and say that he was with me, so I know that she knows I exist. I assume she thinks I'm just another of his many friends that are female. Yet I still feel increasingly uncomfortable as I make my way there.

I text him that I'm turning onto the street as I make the turn. I text him that I'm there when I arrive. And I get no response. I ask, "Did you fall asleep?" No response.

I leave. At that point, I'd been outside for five very long minutes. My gut said to go, so I went.

I get a text as I drive down the street, "No! Are you coming?"

I reply, "I was there. I left. Come outside."

I turn around and drive back against all of my better judgment. I'm expecting the worst. That he's going to come out of the door with her behind him crying. I decide that if he does walk out with her that I will drive away (again).

I get a text that says, "Two minutes."

After four minutes, I text him, "Dude."

I see the door open and my breath catches in fear. I decide at that moment that whether he's alone or she's following him that this will be the last time that I do anything like this again. I'm done until he gets his other affairs (pun intended) in order, and even then I'm not sure I'm interested in anything. He comes out alone.

He gets into the car and sighs.

"I have to say that I was really uncomfortable out here."

"Why? You should have come to the door and had a shot with us."

I snorted (but in the least offensive way possible).

"What? It would've been fine. Besides I told her."

"Told her? Told her what?"

"I told her."

"Told her what?!?"

"That we're going to fuck."

"Oh my god. You didn't tell her about us in her apartment, did you? There's no reason to break her heart over something that will never happen again."

"No, but if she asks I'll tell her."

I shake my head.

"Look, I have to be honest with you, too," he says.

My stomach flips. What feels like hundreds of scenarios are running through my head as to what he could possibly be about to tell me: He's married, he's engaged, he's really a hardened criminal (though I did a background check on him long ago and know that isn't true), etc.

"I just had sex with K."

I stop the car so that I can do a u-turn.

"Then I'm taking you back to her."

"If you wish."

"I'm certainly not taking you home with me."

"I understand. Listen, I need to get some movies back from your house. They're not all mine. Some of them belong to CW. Don't do anything to them." (CW is the co-worker who is in love with him.)

"I won't do anything to the movies."

"CW's in love with me, you know."

"Yes, you've told me all about the women who are in love with you. You obviously should be with one of them since they love you." I emphasized "they" in hopes of making him feel as awful as I felt at that moment.

"But who do I choose?"

"The one that's the least crazy would probably be your best bet." (I said this in response to his descriptions of the women on Sunday morning. I asked then if he depicted me as crazy to other people, and he told me, "No, you're the coolest woman I know.")

He laughs. "All women are crazy."

"No, we're not," I say. "Some of us work hard to keep the crazy out of our lives, while others thrive on it. You thrive on it, too."

I drop him back off and drive away.

Tears start to fall down my cheeks. I feel humiliated.

I get a text a few minutes later that says, "I was honest with you. I've kept my harem at bay for years."

And a moment later, "YEARS."

(Harem? Really?)

I respond, "I don't want to be a part of harem. I appreciate your honesty. I just wish I didn't have to leave home to hear it. That was a slap in the face. I didn't deserve that."

"Didn't happen until after you were already on your way."

"No excuse."

And that's what it boils down to -- there's no excuse for what happened tonight. None.

(And what kind of guy walks out on a girl who he's just had sex with for the first time to go fuck someone else and even has the audacity [honesty my ass] to tell her he's going to fuck someone else?)

I'm so done with men.

(Forgive my inability to stay in one tense. It's late and I'm beat.)