The past few days have been both interesting and lovely, though I fear I have been more at peace than Alistair.
Friday afternoon was especially difficult. I had popped over to Alistair's for coffee. I found him in the office with Claudia (aka the ex). They were both at their computers. Alistair looked thoroughly miserable. I pinned most of this misery on the fact that Claudia was surfing, trying to find a hotel. She was going to Paris with Ben. Oh dear. Added to this was the fact that I had a date (which has already been documented here). I knew that Alistair was already slightly uneasy. I had been very honest with him when he was complaining about the poet. I told him, as kindly as I could that if he is going to worry about anybody, it should be the man I was about to see.
As you are gagging to know more about this mystery man who is hell-bent on treating me like a lady, even if it sickens me to my core, I shall tell you.
He is tall, trains in martial arts, and uses swords. As you can imagine, my slight frame is somewhat dwarfed by his, despite my height. He is of Indian and Arabic descent, but he looks far more Arabic... He has beautiful pale coffee-coloured skin, and long, thick black hair. His eyes are so dark, I think they must be almost black too. He is very softly spoken, very precise, and very smart. And he is oh-so-very chivalrous. He likes to spend much of his spare time either taking part in sword tournaments, or battle reinactments. Yes, yes, I know. Geek alert. However, the pictures are awesome, he looks hot, all of his friends look pretty fucking hot. See, it's ok to be a complete geek if you are hot. Just look at Alistair and I. Anyway, because of his swordfighting, chivalrous ways, and because of his genetic heritage, we shall call him Saladin. How romantic.
That Friday afternoon, round at Alistair's, Claudia made the mistake of asking me what I was doing that evening, and with whom. In hindsight, it was very inconsiderate of me, but at the time, I did not realise what I was doing. I spoke with unbridled enthusiasm about Saladin, and the date. And then I looked across at Alistair, and he looked so sad.
And it distressed me so much. The fact is, I love him, and because of this, his pain is my pain. And yet, this was not something I could alleviate. In fact, it related to me. And what was I to do? I have already told Alistair that if he wants me, I am his. (Sure, I will still have to iron out a few creases, and mould him into the absolute perfect boyfriend, but let's do it). But he loves me, and he loves Claudia, and it remains very complicated to him. But I cannot go on like this, which would amount to waiting an indefinite amount of time, at the end of which, there is the possibility of them working things out. If that happens, I am gone. Fuck all the secondary relationship stuff. I am gone.
And so I have been forced to pick myself up, sort myself out, and start looking around. Well, I have been quite lucky, quite quickly.
Shortly before I left to go on my date I was at home, with Windows Messenger switched on. After a long chat, which brought me no end of frustration, Alistair informed me that he had had an almighty row with Claudia, and that he thought it was now over (which has been said many times...) He said the row happened because I had really spooked him regarding the new man.
He wasn't particularly happy to learn that the date went really well.
However, I went round to Alistair's on Saturday, and since Claudia was in Paris, spent every day there up until this morning. And you know what? It was wonderful.
It was kinda like old times, when I was living there. Before I began writing this blog regularly, I lived there for almost two months whilst I was moving from my place in South East London, to a new one local to here. Although there were moments of angst regarding Claudia, she had not yet moved back in. Alistair and I took to living together very well, and when it came time for me to move out, we both cried. I more than him, but I cry more than anyone...
Over the past few days, we have relaxed, snuggled, fucked, laughed, and have just been together. Mistress Max was round on Saturday and Sunday, and made us two fantastic meals. And Alistair has been really attentive, affectionate, and fun. I have felt very loved, and he has told me so lots. Sometimes, it is the smallest of gestures that are the most important. Like in the early hours of the morning, when he stirred in his sleep, pressed himself up close to me, and whispered that he loved me.
And the fact that he gave me two orgasms in the space of a few hours is almost achieving the impossible. The headpills I am on make orgasm near impossible for me at the moment. So it's just as well that I enjoy a good hard fuck, no matter what the outcome.