Sigh

So, my friend came over the other night. I haven't seen her n a while, but she was in town to see her folks (her Dad hasn't been well). Her husband stayed home in Memphis and worked.

She's abit frazzled. So we had talked about getting together, just to screw, have some fun and what not, which is what I was planning on. BUt she really needed to talk...so me being me, I was there to listen. SHe's worried sick about her Dad. She's never, ever lost anyone close. Not her grandparents, not an aunt, uncle, cousin, sibling, parent. No one. It's amazing to think, especially at 32, that the family she rew up with is still all intact. Everyone else I know has at the very least lost a grandparent. But not E. So I just listened, for a couple of hours. SHe talked about how scared she was. SHe's worried about how she'll react when she has to hear someone say, "He's gone." And that's a painful phrase to have to hear. Take it from me first hand. She doesn't know how she'll be able to take care of her mom, living in Memphis. Not that her Mom needs taing care of, she's only in her mid 50s. BUt E worries about not being able to be there in a moments notice if something happens. Her older bro is kinda shiftless and not reliable.

It's just taht when you know someone you love is dying, you can't help but run scenarios. All the what-ifs that come along with the impending death of someone who's been there all of your life. She's a basket case.

And she had to make the trip alone, and spend those hours driving, only her own worries to occupy her on the trip up. He could have taken off work, if he'd really wanted to, she said. She asked him to, but he's one of those workaholic guys, always trying to get ahead, but letting the really important stuff fal aside. I hate him for it. I barely know him, but I hate that he didn't make the trip with her. To be not just her husband and do his damn job, but to be her friend that she knew beyond all doubt that she could count on to be there for her.

That, apparently, is me. Turns out she didn't run into me by coincidence. She made a call or two, knew where to find me and "bumped into me there". In most cases it's a little stalker-y, but she really just needed to see a friend.

So we came over, and she talked and I listened. And I told her what I knew about the kinda thing she's going through. And she cried. A lot. And I threw my arm around her, and pulled her in close, just hugging her. Holding her. And she pulled in closer, and let the weight of her body kinda fall into me. And I'd brush away the tears everynow and then, and stroke her hair. And she said "You know I love you." And I said, "Well, ya know I love you too" and I kissed her on the forehead. And she kissed me on the neck, and we kissed a little while, and I held her hand and gently carressed it. She said "I love you. Really."
And I know she does. And I love her too. The way that makes you be there for people, just to let them talk when they need to.

Then we went to bed. No sex. No foreplay. I ended up just wrapping my arms around her and letting her fall asleep. And the only thing I could think was how much I wished it was B in my arms instead. It'd be so much easier if she and her husband would just wake up one morning and decide they weren't a good match and cal it quits.

The thing about the way I am, I'm not proud of it. I know it's wrong. BUt when you're just screwin' sneaking around. The intrigue of it. The "what if we get caught danger" of it. The rush I get from making another man's wife come. That's the easy part.

It's this stuff. The being there for someone who needs me. The really caring about a woman, more than just needing to get laid. BUt really having a meaningful emotional relationship, even if it's just for one night. I mean, I know it meant the world to her that I was there for her. And that it wasnt' about fuckin', but that she knows I love and care for her enough to be there. That's the one thing in my life, about myself that I don't loathe. That I genuinely love and care for these women and want to see them happy.

Trust me I know I'm a bastard, a heal. And I know the things I do are so very very wrong and immoral. And I don't want anyone to think I'm justifying what I do. BUt fuckin' a married woman is easy. It's the loving them that's most troublesome. I know if E was single, I wouldn't have to wake up alone most mornings. I'd have someone I could be there for. And that she wouldn't have moments like this, when the one person who should be there for her isn't. I could never do that to my wife. I could never not be there for her when she's in pain, afraid, worried.

I fuckin hate this life sometimes. I'd love to not be the piece of shit I am, find a nice single girl, and start a decent life with her. NOt hate the person I am.

Now I'm depressed. Think I'll go jack off, hopefully it'll help me sleep.