I sent him a text while he was on his boat fishing that I just came thinking of him. He told me I used sex to manipulate.
That pissed me off.
I told him so. I tried to end it. He was upset. I felt bad so I said give me 24 hours.
That was on the day he was supposed to come down. He wanted to beat the traffic and leave super early but I didn’t want to miss my yoga class. I was annoyed anyway, so I told him not to come down.
He texted me later that day that he was driving to the rose bowl to see a soccer game. I felt this strange pull to see him even though I told him no. So I said, just come over. You are already here and I am home from yoga now.
He showed up with fresh swordfish in his car that he caught fishing off Santa Barbara a day earlier. He smelled and looked better. My advice to him to wear deodorant and grow a beard must have been taken. I was pleasantly surprised and we ended up eating the fish instead of processing anything.
Another night of constant touching and fucking. Another morning of getting him out as soon as possible. A day of exhaustion. A day later he was sick, I was feeling so much
A day later he was sick, I told him I wished I could come and bring him some chicken soup. He said I was being codependent. I got pissed. More hurt than pissed. That was not okay. I got mean and sarcastic and like I did at home. Growing up. He laughed. I laughed. But not really. The next morning, I tried to end it again. He did not let me. He said understood where I was coming from and so I decided to give him another chance.
Although, who takes fresh raw swordfish in a cooler to a soccer game at the Rose Bowl?