Relationship Material

Relationship Material

So I’m dating the tall, geeky and supremely appropriate Mr. Jones, who is making all the right moves and saying all the right things. He is the very definition of “relationship material.” So far. I’m still getting to know him– there could very well be some dark crazy side to him that I haven’t seen yet, but I doubt it.
He grew up in the suburbs, an artistic kid that was forced to conform and get a traditional education, like me. He studied music and was a professional musician for a while, but left it because of the uh, lifestyle (drugs, etc.).  Like me, he did the corporate thing for a stretch and hated it. Unlike me, he walked away from his artistic passion and never looked back. I’m still trying to get to the bottom of that story.  We also enjoy artistic expression in all its forms: film, music, fine art, etc. But while I’m very much a child of the city, born and bred in Manhattan, he likes the country.  We enjoy disagreeing about this. 

He’s 53, divorced and has three kids, the youngest a 14-year-old daughter. This is usually the deal breaker for me, but since his kids are older, it’s not as bad.

Unfortunately, I don’t want a relationship at the moment. I don’t want to give him up, either. Selfish bitch, I know. In a perfect world, I could keep dating him while I continue to fuck around indefinitely, and when I’m ready to “settle down” we could move in together or whatever it is we decide to do. Sounds like a plan to me. But Mr. Jones is in an almighty hurry to lock things down between us and wants to be exclusive – meaning monogamous, sooner rather than later. I want nothing of the sort (I have no problem with him being exclusive, ha-ha), and his harping on this so early is sending up alarm bells.
We text throughout the day, and we talk every night via Skype. Our conversations encompass everything from film noir to nanotechnology, and we often Google things we’re talking about and refer each other to relevant websites. It’s geek heaven, truly.

Our second date was supposed to be brunch and a museum, but it was so nice out we hung out all day at the park by the marina, and wound up having cocktails and listening to the D.J. until sundown. Our first kiss, at the far end of the pier in the middle of the Hudson River, would have been perfect if only the Terminator hadn’t come to mind…I tried to hide it by keeping my gaze out on the water after we broke our embrace. I thought I had hidden it, but he asked me what was the matter.

“What makes you ask that?” I said, not looking at him
“Your breathing changed.” He responded. My fucking breathing?
And this is when I realized that I have a lot of respect for Mr. Jones. I didn’t lie. I told him most of the truth, not all because I didn’t want to hurt him, or lose him. He knows that I had feelings for someone I had been seeing and that I’m trying to get over this person. And that this is why I don’t feel it’s fair to be exclusive.
His response blew me away. He held me. “If you need time, I’ll give you time. I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to get lost.”

And that’s how J. went from being a diversion to being a priority…

Image: via UnSplash

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