"It surprised me"

Yesterday afternoon we took Son 2 back to Durmstrang.  Then I drove Wife back home, said I was going out for a bit ... and drove over to Debbie's place to visit her.  We had only an hour before she had to leave for a prior commitment, but it was the first chance I've had to stop by where she lives, and I wasn't about to pass it up.

She lives in a condominium development not too far from our house, actually.  Her place occupies two stories with a stairway between; the guest room was neat and tidy but the rest of it looked comfortably dissheveled.  She showed me the paintings on her wall and told me the story behind each; we looked at some photos of her and her family when she was a girl; we talked; and we kissed.

We kissed quite a lot, actually.  No more than that, except for hugging as we kissed ... although when we were sitting side by side on her sofa that more or less meant that I had one hand cradling her head and the other on her hip (or around her butt).  In fact when it got time for her to leave, I whispered "I guess I'd better let you go" and her voice was unusually husky as she replied, "Yes, I think that's a good idea. It's going to be tough going to bed tonight."

But we also talked.  Much of it was getting-to-know-you-again chit-chat: about our families, about where we grew up, about what we remember from childhood.  She said, "I think I'm a little bit older than you are," and it turned out that she is seven years older -- exactly the same age as D.  She talked about her sister, who has a great job (earning far more than Debbie does) and just recently became a grandmother; I told her about Brother, the rock musician in the family.

And we talked about us.  How we have gotten together again after so long.  What it was like for each of us when we were working together.  I told her in so many words that at one level or another I've been in love with her for many years ... that I wasn't absolutely positive I phrased it to myself that way at the time, but in retrospect I certainly did.  So when we met again I knew quite consciously that I had this huge romantic fog already in my brain, built up over years of reminiscence.  

Interestingly, that wasn't her perception at the time.  She said she knew she enjoyed me, she was happy to spend time with me, ... but she didn't frame it to herself in romantic terms.  So when we met again this year and she suddenly found herself with such strong feelings ... "It surprised me. It really did."  Maybe that's why she felt the need to call a halt after our first lunch, why she found herself struggling so much with her feelings for me.  For me there was no struggle ... just a fear of being laughed at in case she didn't feel the same way.  On my side, I was perfectly clear with myself what I had been feeling all along -- perfectly clear that I had fantasized about taking her to bed any number of times.  But it seems that when she started feeling exactly the same thing, it came as a shock to her.

Or almost a shock.  During our second lunch I had asked her about the times I described back here, when she and I started having lunch regularly and then all of a sudden her husband began joining us.  During that lunch all she said was that she didn't remember the event; she was sure her husband wasn't feeling jealous but she couldn't explain it better than that.  Last night she said that since the time I asked her, she had thought about it more and realized that yes, at some level she had begun feeling uncomfortable about the relationship ... not that I was being too aggressive, but just that her own feelings were becoming "inappropriate."  In other words, she was the one who began to feel she needed a chaperone. 

As an aside, I have to add that at another time she mentioned that she had already by then decided that her marriage was unsatisfying, and that she would leave it once her daughter was grown. What I deduce from this is that "appropriateness" -- legal and social form -- is a lot more important for Debbie than it is for me. She has not crossed the mental line to an acceptance of infidelity as more or less normal, or at least as a position on the spectrum of sexual behavior which is not all that uncommon (and not all that big a deal) in the grand scheme of things.  This must be also why it is so important to her that we not actually fuck until I have moved out of the house.  I'm going along with this because I don't want to pressure her into violating her own moral principles, and because I figure it may help me look a little better to my children or to friends in town.  But we clearly have different perspectives.  I assume there will come a day somewhere along the line when I will have to tell her about D, but I'm going to have to be careful how I do it.

One thing puzzled me a bit.  As we talked, I had the distinct feeling that I was acting a part.  I don't think anything I said to her was untrue -- certainly all the stuff about being in love with her for so long is stuff I have said to myself and to you many times.  I sure think it's true.  Only why did I feel like I was just reading my lines as I said it?  I'm happy to be with her, and the kissing is very nice -- but I keep expecting a woozy, inebriated feeling that just isn't there.  The lift of the heart, the pleasant joy?  Yes and yes.  The crazy, drunken "I can't believe this is happening but don't let it stop"?  The "I don't know what I said or what I'm about to say because being with you lifts me completely outside of myself"?  No and no.  I don't know why not, and I don't know if it should trouble me.  I can think of several hypotheses:

• I don't really mean any of it and I'm just trying to coax her into bed.  I truly believe this one is false, but to be fair I have to put it on the list.
• I spend so much time by myself thinking about these things, that by the time I say anything to her I have already said it to myself a thousand times before and the sheer repitition on the internal monologue is what makes me think I'm speaking the lines of a play.
• I just went through this whole falling-in-love routine with D not all that long ago (well, fours years), and so at this point maybe I'm getting a little jaded or blase about it.
• I'm not jaded at falling in love, but I am subconsciously comparing her with D.  But D was flamingly intense -- "high-maintenance" -- and Debbie is deliberately cool and subdued (because strong emotions frighten her).  So maybe it's just that I'm picking up on the difference and judging the whole interaction through that lens.

I don't know what's behind it, but it's something I want to watch.

There was one more thing we discussed, but I think it deserves a post of it's own.  Coming soon, to a blog near you ....