Stuff
2008-04-28 @ 4:10 p.m.

It's been an interesting few weeks.

I turned thirty-two this month. That's right, the big 32. It did not strike me as one of those milestone birthdays. There was little reflection on my part. I did want to be married by thirty-two, perhaps even have my first child by that age. However, I've learned to set aside "plans" and to enjoy life as one, long improvisation.

Chris sent me flowers. A beautiful bouquet of roses accompanied by a simple note: Love, Chris.

Talks with Chris have started and then stalled; started and stalled. We have made plans to get together but he's cancelled both times. I find this confusing because on both occasions Chris initiated the dates. I eagerly accepted and then he cancelled. His reasons for both cancellations seemed sincere but based on previous behavior I always wonder if it's some passive-aggressive, Fuck You, Piper!

He's complicated. Although, when I mentioned this to him he said, "No, you've complicated me."

After much consideration, I'd dearly like to salvage my relationship with Chris. I do love him but it's more than that. I feel a close to him. A closeness that I have experienced with no other person aside from Steve.

To be brutally honest, I confess that my desire to salvage the relationship also has a less attractive side. Partly guilt and partly security. I feel like some part of me wanted Chris around until Steve committed to marriage. It wasn't a conscious plan but upon reflection I used him as a safety net.

More unflattering, and I'm ashamed to admit this, I enjoyed his desire to have me. It's not pretty but at least it's the truth.

Which is why I'll never get involved in another romantic relationship again. Steve and I have discussed "swinging" after marriage a number of times and I'm mulling over ground rules. No matter how that turns out, I just can't be emotionally entangled with two men. That's even if both acquiesce.

To end on a high note: My birthday was terrific. Steve took me to dinner and we also went ice skating. I haven't been ice skating in some time. Skating was always a passion of mine. I figure skated for years. I was always good enough to compete but never good enough to win. My best finish was third place when I was seventeen. Ever notice that the difference between first place and second place is minuscule while the distance between second and third is painfully insurmountable?

I do consider myself lucky. Unlike many, I never grew to resent the passion I could not master.