MANipulation (the saga continues)

After playing it cool for a few days I did what every friend told me not to do, and thank goodness I did. I agreed to meet B for a drink.

Thursday night we met around 9 at a place aptly called La Trappe. I was bursting with confidence, repeating a mantra of 'What do I want? What do I expect? What can I compromise?,' and tottering around in my 3 inch heels.

B was there when I arrived and we headed downstairs to the trendier part of the restaurant and bar. There was a quick apology about Sunday from B, after we sat down. But, I knew he hadn't eaten dinner yet and felt a little on edge myself. I decided to see where the conversation went and breech the confrontational part after at least half my drink. We ordered beers from the vast Belgian beer selection, fries, and B got a beer-braised rabbit stew.

It took a very long time for our food to arrive, but we were having great conversation. I haven't laughed that hard in a while. So, one beer turned to two, and by the time the check came I was ready to lay it all on the table.

First I tackled the Sunday situation. It turns out he had no intention of messing with me, he's just an idiot. He informed me that in the future he'd rather I call straight away to save confusion, grief, and honesty. Then we moved on to what was going on between us, and where it is going. Apparently B has never casually dated. So, we came up with our definition of what we expect from one another and how we are going to work it. How very adult? The best part of the discussion came when B said, '...You deserve a lot of attention, I know I can't give you that right now, and I don't want to hurt you.' (music to my ears)

Our treaty states that 'we will see each other every other week (although more often is always welcome, just not required), we will talk at least once a week, when we have an issue, or want to change the terms, we immediately speak up, and we are free to date other people.' The best part is that I have a guaranteed date with someone I really enjoy, the freedoms of single girl life, and knowing that regardless the two of us will be friends.

I was weak in the knees by the end of the evening. B looked especially handsome, we were both fairly intoxicated, and when he left it was just a kiss on the cheek. But, I'm pretty sure I started to melt. I've decided he doesn't mean harm; he's just really clueless sometimes. And, when I wake up the next morning to a text telling me what a good time he had, too, I know I'm not imagining everything.