Thursday, January 3, 2008


We're having dim sum on Friday morning. It feels like a date. Because he's picking me up. He has never picked me up. Not once. And because we're going to my favourite place. Pearl at Harbourfront. He prefers the ghetto places in Chinatown because he thinks the quality is better and because he thinks Pearl is overpriced. He knows he's buying. That was the condition. If he's buying, I would make time. When he called this afternoon, he seemed cold. Rude, almost. At first. So I made the obligatory small talk. "How was your Christmas?" "Happy New Year" "Are you back at work?" We even talked about the weather before he brought up dim sum. I'm not sure what his agenda is. He can't possibly be going to all this trouble because he wants his stuff back. Or because he wants to give mine back. Maybe he's dying and he wants to tell me in person. One can only hope.

I realize that the most likely explanation is probably the right one. He thinks I'll still have sex with him if we can stay friends. If this had happened a week ago, I would probably have slept with him. Now, I'm not so sure. I want him to be in love with me. I want to hear that he missed me. That he wants me back in his life. That he was wrong. That he regrets not bringing me soup.

I also realize that, if he doesn't say those things, I will probably be disappointed. But I don't really expect his feelings to have changed. So maybe I can preempt the disappointment by not expecting anything at all beyond "give me my sheets". I just can't believe he would go to the trouble of picking me up, choosing my restaurant, spending an hour with me just for his stuff. I want to believe there's something more.

I just hope it's not serious. Health-related or otherwise. Now I'm scared. Maybe I've just been watching too much House. I guess I just have to wait and see.

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