The End
(Part I, and not safe for bigbros)

I'll (probably) write something about the end of the trip soon, but for now, this "ending" is for whatever I had with Scientist, for it is kaput, gone, dead in the water, finito, ended.

"I'm moving to New York," I said, after dinner (where he showed me picutres of his cousin's wedding and new nieces), after he asked in the car what I was thinking about, since I was being so quiet, after I replied, "You know. Stuff," after he replied, "About me?", after I said, "About us. I feel like we should maybe...talk," and after we went to his apartment to have the agreed-upon talk.

"I know, you told me."

"Well, I assumed that it would be the end, because you said you didn't want a long distance relationship."

"I still feel the same way."

After a few go-arounds, we both agreed that it was a natural breaking point, and that it probably wouldn't have lasted even if I'd stayed here. And then, in a weird therapy-like way, we exchanged some compliments and some criticisms. (Him: "You are really different from most people. And some of that's good, and some of that's neutral." Me: "You are... unique." Him: "I really liked spending time with you." Me: "It was interesting. It was different.").

After it seemed like there wasn't more to say, I came out and said what had been weighing on my mind since the beginning of the evening. "So, are you really not going to sleep with me tonight?"

He really wasn't.

"For real? For serious?"

For real. "It's really something I have to do for me... I really want a longterm, serious relationship soon, and it would confuse things for me. Please don't ask me. It's not something I can do right now, and it's not negotiable."

Aaaaaaand, proving that I really was the man in this ... thing we had, I'm really more upset about this exchange than anything else. I mean, what red-blooded American man turns down break-up sex? It's like, my goddam constitutional right!

"If we hadn't had this conversation tonight, would you have slept with me?"

"No."

"So you unilaterally decided this? Whatever happened to making decisions mutually?"

I ended up insisting that I walk home alone, and that he not drive me, as he has every other time I've come over to his house. As I explained to him, "I'm a little embarrassed and hurt, and this is a way for me to reassert control over my life." He tried to persuade me that I shouldn't be embarrassed, which is like, whatever, you can't argue someone into not being embarrassed, but I refused, and he finally said, "Why does it have to end like this? I'd really like for you to stay in my life."

"I don't... know what that would look like."

"We could try."

I considered this. And wondered, for the hundredth time, if I wasn't in it just for the sex. Because every time we'd gotten together, everything we did seemed like a prelude to bed. It was the thing I looked most forward to, far above and beyond the talking and sharing.

"I'm not hopeful," I said slowly, "but I guess we can try."

And after a little more wordless staring, I stepped forward, gave him a hug, received and hug and kiss on the cheek in return, and walked back home along the dark streets of Crimson City.
I won't deny that I shed a tear or two. But by the time BC got done with bolstering my self-confidence, and by the time I reached home, I was pretty much done with grieving.

It's been a long time in the coming, and (as Scientist had the gall to say to me) I want and deserve -- everyone deserves -- someone who wants to be with me. Who's sure. Scientist never let himself be affectionate with me, bastard, and I blame him for succumbing to the sex when he knew it wasn't what he wanted. I blame myself for the same thing.

I'll probably spend a few uncomfortable hours with burning cheeks for throwing myself at Scientist, but hey, a girl's gotta try, you know? At least I swung the bat.

(Note to self: no more WASPs. Too reserved.)