Mo is the sort of man who is actually quite attractive, but his brain runs about a million miles a minute and he absolutely no filter on what he says. He switches topics very quickly, with little or no apparent transitions, and it is physically impossible for him to be sensitive.
On the patio at the Columbia Firehouse, I spilled the beans about me and Mr P's recent conversations regarding monogamy.
"You're fucked," he says, biting into his hamburger.
I, being the eternal optimist and girl-in-love, protested.
"Because he's a Gemini? Really? That's your whole opinion on this?" I began to wonder if he was right. Maybe my biggest fear, that I wouldn't even come close to getting what I wanted from Mr. P so badly, was already true. We talked it through a bit more, and Mo decided that Mr. P would never get what he wanted either: other women, and me.
"There's no woman out there who would date a man with a girlfriend. He says he wants you in the picture...the idea of a woman as amazing as you is the best cockblocker I can possibly imagine."
He went on to tell me I should have a Plan B.
Plan B is where you find a nice boring man to love you, buy a condo in Alexandria and get a dog.
One blood & sand and a French 75 later, I texted Mr. P. T reminded him that if he missed me badly enough tonight, he should use the spare key I'd given him and come over. While packing for one of his many overseas business trips, I'd snuck his key chain and put on an extra key to my apartment.
He's never actually used it, primarily because I usually stay at his house. I also live pretty far outside the city.
"Feel like driving over?" I'd been a good girl and only had two drinks over the course of a two hour dinner, so I said yes. Mo dropped me off at home, I grabbed a few things and I drove over. We spent the night cuddling, he fell asleep almost right away, his arms wrapped comfortably around me.
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My favorite dress is this orange, sort of retro, sleeveless dress with a big belt in the middle. I call it my Samantha Jones dress. I never feel more alive than when I wear it and this morning I was wearing it well. The situation I'm in with Mr. P is such that I haven't been eating much or well lately, and I've dropped a few pounds. More than a few...some of my clothes don't even fit anymore. I think even the Samantha Jones dress needs taken in under the arms.
I digress.
As I was walking to work this morning, I had the thought that maybe non-monogamy wouldn't be so bad. If Mo was right, and I'd need to find a partner who wanted a Plan B with me, then I could still enjoy Mr P's company while I kept my eyes open for Mr. Right. My Samantha Jones dress was getting to my brain.
As I got to 19th and F street and jay walked across it, I stumbled. My flip flops, while comfortable, often got me into trouble with the historic brick streets of Foggy Bottom. The stumble jarred me out of my fantasy that maybe Mr. P and I could both be happy with this new arrangement. I realized that morning as I watched him sleep that part of his appeal was that I could enjoy him long-term. That it wasn't just that I wanted a Plan B but that I wanted it with him.
And so it was that I gave up my imaginary progress and found myself back at Square One.
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