A Mess to be Made

Isn't it funny how you can almost imagine things into being? We can, if we think about it enough, transfer our dreams and fantasies to fruition. Although, it never quite ends up like the imagination inspires, does it?

I'm talking about the tall, sexy, coffee-coloured man walking through my tiny, feminine apartment, having to bow his head to pass safely through the doorframes, hunching down a little to admire himself in the full-length mirror. I wanted to dip that man in sweet almond oil and watch him glisten.

Note the use of past-tense.

The subject of my Chocolate-Man fantasies and I went out on a date last week. We went for dinner, then ice cream, and then for a very long walk around downtown during which we had a very insightful conversation about almost everything we're made of: our childhoods, families, religion, education, hobbies, past relationships, all of those interesting topics that make you feel like you know a person.

We'd been walking for at least an hour when we decided to sit on a bench located in an isolated outdoor rotunda surrounded by a garden and post-modern art structures. Tall, metal geometric shapes adjacent to billowy willow trees and stout shrubs stood around us, listening to our quiet conversation:

"Wait a sec. You can't cook at all?"

"No," he replied and went on to give me the awful details of his past cooking attempts. This man must never be left alone in a kitchen.

So we decided I would teach him to cook. The following Sunday was to be our first lesson.

Sunday morning found me irritable and with a sore throat. I'd worked a late shift the night before, slept only five hours and needed to be back at work at ten. I thought about calling him and postponing our plans but I figured that by the evening my mood would soften. After three cups of coffee, I was a more pleasant person to be around but still exhausted from the previous night. Thankfully, the day passed in a rush and, suddenly it seemed, we were walking through the farmer's market and I was smelling mangos and testing avocados for firmness.

It's safe to say that he was absolutely no help at all. He was indecisive and without words leaving me with the duty of filling the silence with conversation, and, with my being exhausted, I didn't have much to say. I'd noticed our slight struggle with communication early on during our first date. He wouldn't speak unless I prompted him, wouldn't emphasise unless I asked him to explain himself, and wouldn't share a story unless I'd shared one of my own. It was a good thing he'd mentioned that he wasn't interested in a relationship at present because, although I found him lovely to look at and enjoyed spending time with him, I felt our dialogue was draining.

On our way to my place, we sat in silence. A silence I was very much enjoying after hearing people talking over each other all morning and afternoon. I rested my head against the cushion and thought of nothing but how iridescent the rain clouds looked after the brief storm we'd experienced while picking through vegetables at the market. He turned to look at me and asked why I was so quiet.

"I'm just a bit tired," I replied.

He said that he was a quiet person and it would be no good if we were both quiet so he hoped I wouldn't be that way all night long.

Hmmm.

"I'll perk up when we start cooking. Let's just enjoy this silence right now."

He seemed disconcerted by my reply. Perhaps he was nervous to be entering my house for the first time, either way the silence was uncomfortable for him.

We had fun and the dinner was fantastic, flaky fillets of white fish, tons of roasted vegetables and bulgar wheat with onions and spinach. Everything turned out delicious.

We drank wine throughout the evening and ended up cuddling and kissing to close the night.

*******

After he'd left and I was alone in my apartment I began to feel confused. If he said he'd only wanted to be friends, then why did he kiss me and hold my hand? If I said I didn't want a relationship, then why did I kiss him back? Is it safe to just spend time with a heterosexual member of the opposite sex? Is it impossible for me to just be friends with someone?! Why is it so difficult for me to do what I really want? I want to be single but I am certainly not behaving like it.

Last night he called. After chatting for a bit, I dove into what had been bothering me.
"I thought you said you didn't want a relationship"

To which he replied by telling me not to put words in his mouth.

"But," I came back, "when we went out for dinner that night you said, 'I don't want a relationship right now, I just really want to focus on completing my studies'."

He said something to the affect of that being a general comment he'd made before he'd gotten to know me and now that he's had the opportunity to spend time with me, he'd like to pursue a relationship.

I suddenly felt like I didn't have much of a say in the matter and that this could very well be how a lot of my other relationships began. There's never any official commencement; I just fall into relationships. He holds my hand and all of a sudden I'm somebody's girlfriend. I end up having to ask my friends after a few weeks into it, "wait a sec, do I have a boyfriend?" I don't need him to get down on one knee but I'd like to be asked first or just made aware of his intentions before his friend says, "Oh, you're so-and-so's girlfriend." I am?! Since when? Am I that dense and naive? No. Not this time.

I took a deep breath and said into the receiver, "But I'm not sure I want a relationship."

"Really?" he said as if the thought never crossed his mind.

"Really."

He said he didn't want to discuss it over the phone and we'd talk about it once we saw each other face to face.

Hmmm.