My San Francisco Treat

The last time I came back from spending time with SanFranMan, I wanted to write about what it means. 

But I didn't, because, well, I didn't take the time to sit down and do it.  And then when I did, the words seemed so ... high schoolish, or silly.  Which is what high school is - silly.  I had lost the "mood". 

The mood is back, and so I'm going to try to capture it.  Without sounding like a giggly girl in high school.  Cause it's not about that kind of giggly love. 

He and I have a short history, but it doesn't seem short - it feels like we've known each other forever.  Short version  for the new readers.  My best friend is his step-sister.  We met.  Don't remember that meeting.  Years later, we met again, after I'd been diagnosed with MS.  He had been dx'd 20 years earlier.  We talked and talked.  He went home to San Francisco to the wife he was married to.  He came back again to see me and to visit his father.  His father was on the downhill path of life, so he started to come visit his dad more often, and I was a happy ... accident?  Diversion?  Escape?  We argue lightly about it now, I believing that he used me to escape his unhappy marriage, and the fact that his dad was dying.  He seems to believe I should have understood how fucked up his life was at the time, yet he also told his sister that "he couldn't have survived it all without her".  His wife had taken their 2 young children to the East Coast for a vacation with her parents and never came back home during that time. 

I do know that I believed every word he said - our happy plans for a new life together.  I also know that I should have known better - counselor that I am.  Or had been - before the MS boggled my brains with denial, symptoms and fears for the rest of my life.  If I were ever to use MS as an excuse for anything... it would be then.  I was stupidly, blindly, swept completely off my feet in love. 

He came again, the 4th or 5th visit into our relationship.  He seemed distant.  I asked.  He maybe'd us, vague.  Or that it was all in my head.  Slippery.  To see what he could get away with, both sides of the fence, not ready to be truthful, not ready to lose me all the way if he could help it.  But he had unwittedly put the real truth into my hands, printing out something he had written about his busy schedule, forgetting to edit out two telling sentences about the possibilities of new love and not to forget to mail her a card while he was out of town visiting his father.  I read it, put it down, not fully absorbing the two tell-taling sentences placed in the middle of a crazy ass version of the hectic hell of a confusing life/time for him.  It was good writing, and I was trying to absorb that fact first.  The information weighed on me, when I went to re-read it, those sentences were gone - he had traded versions.  But the poor guy... he'd made the mistake of also emailing it to his step-sister (my best friend), so when I put the truth together, she and I read her email, and yes, he had edited a second version for me, having caught his screw-up at some point.  I confronted, he lied, we broke up.  Because I wasn't stupid.  Facts is facts, ma'am. 

But I couldn't stay mad at him, no matter how hard I wanted to.  The thing about getting healthy and grown-up - is that you have to take responsibility for your own part in it.  For me... I had chosen to get involved with a married man, and had CHOSEN to believe the things he said and promised... me, as a counselor for other people, had chosen to believe in someone who was in major crisis mode.  I knew better.  In that way, it was a fairly easy break-up for me, because I couldn't blame him... entirely. 

He is not a bad man.  We all lie in our own little and big ways.  For whatever reasons.  We're all learning and growing up at any given moment.  We all make stupid mistakes. 

The other part about not being able to stay mad at him is that he always makes me laugh.  Laughing is good, and he is good.  We continued to meet, to visit each other, to ... bond.  Friends with Benefits is the term, but the benefits are so much more than just sex.  (And I don't mean the sex is "just"... it is the BEST, so the benefits are above and beyond, dammit anyways).  He doesn't read the blog, so I can say that out loud. 

Friends.  Why do friends such as we are... work better than what we were before?  Part of it is time has passed.  He's not in such a crisis mode.  His dad has been dead for 2 years (April 2nd).  His children have been on the East Coast for 2 years.  They have settled into a routine of daily phone calls, and flying back and forth.  He works his ass off, making good money, and then he spends it on those he cares about.  His kids.  Me.  He insists on paying for everything, and bought me a Spring jacket - one I wouldn't have bought for myself because it was too expensive.  I show that I care by making him a quilt and another quilt for his daughter and his son.  By baking cookies that he didn't eat cause he didn't realize I had made them myself.  By giving him the back rubs and foot rubs that make him feel... dare I say it... loved. 

I do love him.  But this kind of love doesn't get upset if he doesn't call or even if he doesn't return a call.  I know that if I say "Call me back, it's important", he will.   This kind of love doesn't need constant attention.  We can talk once or twice a night for weeks, then there won't be a word between us for days, or weeks.  There are months that go by without seeing each other, and rare emails between us.  And then all of a sudden, one of us will email something lonely, or horny, or funny, and we know it's time to get together again.  So we do.  We are so easy together.  He corrects my quirky way with words, and makes fun of them.  I have a better sense of direction than he does, but I never say "I told you so" after spending hours looking for a cemetery or store.  I do things that I'd never think of doing on my own, like go to a museum.  I had never thought of myself as being interested in museums or fancy restaurants or strange foods.  Now I am, because he opens my eyes to new experiences that I tend to dismiss out of hand.  We like to drive, and like cemeteries.  So many things are easy with us. 

He always, always, always makes me laugh.  He makes me jealous - of what, I'm not sure.  He makes me feel cared for.  He understands the peeing my pants thing, like it's no big deal.  Ben and ReikiMan take care of me, and make me feel cared for, but the pee thing?  It's beyond their reach thru no fault of their own.  It's an effort for them to understand, to accept, an effort well hidden most of the time, but an effort nonetheless.  SanFranMan not only understands and accepts, but he also relates, and that is no small thing in the world of MS.  He knows what a big deal it is that I'm so much healthier than I used to be, knowing the effort it took to get beyond the mind-set of "I have MS' and all it's negative connotations.  It feels like he's proud of me. 

I think... best of all is the fact that I respect him because of the kind of father he is.  He's fucked up in some ways, no doubt.  But I've never known a better father, and I have some experience in that area, having worked with many divorced families.  He loves his kids, and he talks about them with love in his voice, concern and wonderment in his tone.  It is fascinating to me - to watch a father actually be a father, and to see him spend most of his moments geared to being a good father... this man who became a father in the space of a few hours, not having the normal 9 month pregnancy preparation - she didn't know she was pregnant until she went into the hospital with a stomach ache.  My favorite times with him are when he's talking about his kids, and I just sit and listen.  I suppose a part of me wonders what it would have been like to have a father who was as deeply proud and as in love with being a father as SFM is. 

I like being around him.  Near him.  There's always something to think about.  Or just the opposite, we can do nothing together and still be connected with compatibility.  When he leaves me to catch his plane, we kiss, I grin, and make him kiss me some more, cause of my new teeth - I need the practice.  He misses me almost immediately, the comfort of having someone there to talk to, to bounce ideas and memories of the past off of.  I am immediately lonely, wanting him to be sitting near me, reading a book, or watching the people as I wait for the train for 5 hours.  I think he knows I love him no matter what, and that I always will - there is no need to impress or pretend or mask.  I hope he knows I accept him the way he is, even tho he's not perfect and has some foibles.  I worry about him because of those foibles, but that's all I can do about it - I can't change him into a version that meets MY approval.  I LOVE the fact that he can see his problems, deny them all to high heaven, and yet still get himself signed up for some individual counseling all on his own, without anyone nagging at him.  I love that I can see him changing and growing (up) even more, and that it's not because I'm doing all the work, which is what so often happens in relationships - only one person does the work.  I'm glad that I'm smart enough not to do that anymore. 

We are not in "a relationship" per se.  But this is one of the best relationships of my life, and I love spending time with my San Francisco Treat.  Whatever it is that we are, it's really nice and I like it the way it is.  I think he does too.  His voice message to me before he even gets on his plane, that I don't hear until I get home almost 20 hours later... is thanks for being there, for being his friend, for the good time, I looked good, great even, my face a bit more "defined", it must be cause of the "shims" I had put in.  I laughed out loud again, by myself - he means my new teeth, the ones he didn't want to see laying around, even tho I wanted to chase him around the hotel room with them in my hand, chomping after him.  He says we'll work on getting me moved to San Francisco, even tho he wants to leave there, to get me settled before he leaves, I think he finally believes I want to move.  He says he misses me already, a little.  I laugh again.

I miss him alot, and I've said it before - he's so full of life, it's like he takes the air with him when he's leaves.  Do I sound like a giggly high school girl giddy in love?  I hope not... because I just love him, is all. 

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Comments

[TC]

This sounds like the very best of relationships. I envy you a bit ... tho some of what you described is what I have with HamerMan. I described it as "companionship" to somebody once and they responded that I could get a dog for that. It's not the same thing. It's .... .... .... what you said. I'm happy for you!!