There are several reasons for my being up and moderately coherent:
1) My kids’ dad is in town this weekend. He has decided that he is not comfortable staying by us when he visits. He has made other arrangements for himself, but feels the kids should sleep in their own beds. Actually, he thinks it’s “not a good use of [his] time” to be with the kids when they are sleeping. Huh?? So I am here, taking deep breaths, biding my time until the parenting plan is approved and ordered by the judge. Nerves are exposed, anxiety is a little high.
2) I had a date planned with Thomas for Friday night, which didn’t happen due to the above. I really could have used the sex. Then sleeping in. How I miss the sleeping in...
3) At 1:30 I got a phone call (I am in my bed sleeping at this point; Miles’ head rests on my stomach) from Jason the College Boy. He is in a hotel room in Omaha, having followed his school basketball team there for a game. He is not at all sober. He wants me to know that Spring Break starts for him on Thursday and he’ll be coming to town. Can we get together? Am I seeing anyone? Who?? Do I ever think about him?
Oh, sweet Jason. Not very much, to be honest. We slept together last summer for about a month; our sex was ultra-exciting. And that’s it. I felt like Mrs. Robinson. I was glad to see him leave in September for school several states away; where I hoped he’d meet and have sex with lots of young blonde girls. We traded phone calls a few times after he left, but I’d not heard from him in a couple months when, one afternoon in late December there was a knock on my door.
I thought it was my client, early for his one o’clock appointment. Shit! I opened the door and Jason was standing there looking smug. I was stunned. And pissed. I am not a fan of these types of surprises. I expressed my displeasure.
You could have called to tell me you were going to be in town/you could have waited until the evening to just show up at my house/I could have been with a client when you just walked up and rang the bell/this is disrespectful, et cetera.
I finished scolding him and sent him on his way. My client arrived two minutes later.
I didn't hear from him for the rest of his visit. Two weeks ago he called late at night. I saw the name and didn’t pick up. No message. Good.
This call was different; I picked it up before he even registered in my mind.
I was asleep and dreaming about someone else.
"Hey- whatt're you doin?"
"I'm sleeping. How drunk are you?"
"Haha. Very funny. I miss you. Spring break starts this coming Thursday."
"So that's good. Is your semester going okay? Are you ready to graduate?"
“Can I see you sometime when I’m in town?”
“It’s possible, but I can’t get to my calendar now; Miles is sleeping on me.”
“Okay, well, I’ll call you Sunday or Monday or something.”
“Sure. Have a good time in Nebraska, and stay out of trouble.”
I’m thinking I dodged a bullet there. Chances are good that he won’t call and my schedule will have filled up by the time he gets into town on Thursday. It is 1:45. I fall asleep again.
At 3:47 my phone is beeping and vibrating loudly on my bedside table, which is a metal typing stand. Jesus!
You should send me a picture of yourself. That will make me really hard.
What are you doing awake? Go to sleep.
Give me something to dream about and I will.
I know he is there with his roommate from school; I don’t send a picture. I know what would happen to it.
I sit up in bed, extricating myself from the mass of tangled limbs (both Miles and Jack have migrated to my full-sized bed at this point; they're sprawled out everywhere and I’ve been sleeping on a slice of mattress about 12 inches wide.) I am naked, and sweating from the extra heat they generate under the flannel sheets.
Walking through the apartment to the computer, I consider having sex with Jason again. You know, just to see if he’s learned anything new.