Well. I’m sure the heading rather gives this whole post away. I think I’ve known for a while how I feel about The Frenchman. The post where I wrote about Waiting And Depressed Cats was when I started to think this way. I really didn’t plan on saying anything to him about it. I’d spoken to Miss America and told her I was worried about making him feel pressured or whatever, so I wasn’t going to say anything. As it was, that didn’t happen. Yep. I dropped the L-Bomb. So what happened?
WARNING: The likes of Social Kenny might want to skip this. It’s mushy. You’ve been warned!
Well, if you’ve read my last post, you’ll know I had an amazing weekend. Aside from the whole treating me like a princess thing and the sex being out of this world, it was perfect. He is so attentive, so sensual, so…everything. I like the way he makes me feel, sure, but its more than that. I have an outstanding amount of respect for him. I know he hasn’t always been how he is now and I respect him a lot for pulling himself up and sorting himself out. Everything about him is exactly how I thought it would be and there’s nothing that makes me think ‘oh, I’ll just have to settle for that.’ There were certain moments that put the words right on the cusp of my tongue and believe me, with my impatient, impulsive, spontaneous nature, it was bloody hard to swallow them back down.
The way he looks at me, frankly, makes me melt. He says just the sweetest things, I practically have to pick myself up off the floor most of the time. He takes the piss out of me, which I love and I had been worried about the language barrier making that impossible. While we were out on Saturday night, I looked at him dancing away (which I love, since most guys I know just don’t dance at all) and thought, ‘Fuck me. I’m actually falling for this guy.’ And I was scared. I’ll admit it. I had felt it for a while but for some reason, this particular moment just kind of hit me in the face. Still, I didn’t say anything. We were both a bit drunk and I just danced the feeling away. Then, on Sunday night, he got a bit sick. He’d eaten some of the pie he’d made on Friday and an hour later, complained about having an upset stomach. Thankfully, I’d declined. It seemed the different cheeses, egg and milk just didn’t sit well after a couple of days. He didn’t actually throw up, thank God, but he did spend a lot of time in the toilet. He was a little embarrassed about it, as I would be, but hey, these things happen. Now, there is only one other guy that I’ve been able to handle being around when they feel sick. And sick Mr Marseille felt. I didn’t freak out. Which is major for me. There was none of the ‘ohmigod I have to get away from him’ that I usually feel if I’m in close quarters to someone who feels that sick. I even gave him a long-ass blowjob to make him feel a bit better. Unheard of. But this combined with everything else just put me over the edge.
So it kinda slipped out. Whoops. Cue sick feeling, sweaty palms and thinking ‘oh my fucking hell, what the fuck have I just done?’. Talk about verbal diarrhoea.
He said he knew something was wrong because I seemed sad that morning (I wasn’t sad, just confused/worried/etc) and he was worried. He said ‘it’s not the same for me. I protect myself too much so it takes more time, but I think it could definitely be the case.’
Not exactly what I wanted to hear but again, because of how he is, I didn’t feel like I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. And to be honest, I just wanted him to know how I felt. I wasn’t that bothered about hearing it back. It was more of a ‘if I die tomorrow, I’d really like you to know this’ feeling, which is probably why it just popped out of my mouth like it did. He said he was glad I’d told him, because he’d rather know than not. The difference between us he said was that while I was more scared to say it than to feel it, he was more scared to feel it than to say it. It makes me wonder what happened with his ex of 3 years (note to self: must ask this question).
The upshot is that, so far anyway, nothing has changed. He’s said it doesn’t change anything for him as far as I’m concerned. He still wants to come over in January and I’m still going for an extended trip. His messages have been as sweet and romantic as they always have been. I honestly have never met anyone like him in the way he conducts himself (that I’ve seen so far anyway) and his basic attitude to life. It’s ridiculous but it reminds me of a line from American Beauty, where Thora Birch’s character says to the other one (sorry, bad memory) that her new neighbour is so self confident, it’s not real. That’s how I feel. And I hope, I sincerely hope that if it was this massive problem, he’d have said so straight away. So I’m trying not to stress about the fact he’s not where I am, and trying not worry that I’ve inadvertently put the brakes on this with my mahoosive gob.
I’ve shown him my vulnerable side and I’m hoping he wont trample all over me. Because I’d be majorly, majorly gutted if he did.