Please Don’t Say Those Three Little Words

I’m not ready to hear them.

I hate this stage of dating.

The We’re-Turning-Into-Something-Serious stage.

Thomas and I have been dating for a few months. He’s wonderful. Good-looking, great taste in clothes, and he’s interested in knowing about me at a deeper level. He actively tries to understand me and adapts to keep me comfortable. We text constantly which is ideal since I’d rather stab my eyeballs than have a phone call.

His only flaw is his lack of funds but that’s another article discussed another time. Thomas isn’t destitute but his income for a college-educated, white-collar professional at 40 is borderline poverty.

I’ve made it clear from the start that I’m not in a position to be anyone’s girlfriend. I can’t handle the additional work of being someone’s Significant Other when I’m mid-divorce, trying to move out of my marital home, while juggling raising two small children during Covid Part II: Attack of the Delta.

With the patience of a saint, Thomas has no problems waiting. However, he’s made it clear that he’s in it for the long game.

Meanwhile, I fucked a friend a few days ago and I’m going to see Sean in a few days. Commitment isn’t on my radar.

I meet Thomas for happy hour. I have a gift card to Yard House after they fucked up my birthday meal and I bitched online. It’s the only way I can afford to go out with him at this point, while I’m house shopping; free meal vouchers are used during the discounted window of 4 pm to 6 pm. I can’t expect him to pay for the entirety of it.

He shows up with an untucked dress shirt with jeans he changed into after work. I forget how good he looks in real life compared to his pictures.

We start with drinks. The conversation goes from generic “how was your day” content to deeper topics quickly with us. He talks about childhood issues. I talk about my autism diagnosis. I quiz him on previous relationships. We go in-depth talking about his need to always play the hero.

“Holy shit, your eyes,” Thomas says. The sun is practically blinding us from our spot at the bar. “The way the light reflects off of them, they’re amazing.” I roll my allegedly amazing eyes. It takes little to impress him.

He talks about road trips with his daughter. I tell him that there’s zero chance he can do a road trip with me and pee on the side of the road because of his diabetes. I also tell him that he sure as fuck can’t do that in a bottle and it’s a legit deal-breaker for me. I haven’t seen a guy pee in front of me since prom and I’d like to keep it that way, especially if it’s on the side of the road. I can’t put a guy’s dick in my mouth ever again once I’ve seen that.

In other words, I don’t struggle to be blunt and honest with him on what I expect in a relationship.

We discuss the pace of our relationship. Dude is moving faster than I’d prefer and I note that if it wasn’t for my brakes, things would progress further. Thomas says, “It’s scary how vulnerable I am with you.”

Ugh.

I remind Thomas yet again that he’s welcome to date other people. That I’m not committing to anything and not to look too far down the road. “Don’t get me wrong,” I say. “If things suddenly ended tomorrow I’d be heartbroken. There’s a path that we’re going towards. But I’m not committing to it because you never know what can change with our weird living situations.”

Thomas sits back, stunned. “You’d be upset if things ended? You’ve never given any indication that it would bother you if it did. I really thought that if things ended at any moment, you’d be indifferent.”

“Geezus, I’m not that much of a robot. Yes, if things randomly ended tomorrow, I’d be upset.” It seems I’ve maintained such a stoic stance, he doesn’t even know that I do care about the guy.

Fast forward to us banging in his Jeep. I vowed not to do that this evening but I was buzzed and Thomas is fucking amazing at…fucking. The car sex does get old though; I’m tired of bloody knees and a bruised back every time. I’m a grownup and I’d like to have sex in an actual bed. Unlike my situation where I’m trying to move away from my soon-to-be ex-husband, his soon-to-be ex-wife was forced to move back in. There’s no plan anytime soon to bang at his place. Everything hinges on me getting a house.

I’m late getting home. Thomas needs to finish but I’m not one to say, “bro, you need to cum already”. The soon-to-be ex-husband flipped his lid anytime I hinted during sex that I needed him to cum so I’m conditioned to never tell a guy that I’m ready for it to be over. When he does, I crawl to the front seat, fix myself up, and practically yell “peace out!” as I leap out of his obnoxiously oversized Jeep like a paratrooper.

Thomas hustles to give me the obligatory goodnight hug and kiss.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks.

No.

No.

Like dude, seriously…no.

I know what he’s going to say. This isn’t my first relationship rodeo. I know post-sex what those hormones do. I make him feel understood when we’re dressed and feel like a stud when we’re naked.

I mentally cringe and brace myself for it.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

I hope my mental “ugh nooooo dude!” wasn’t audible through my brain. I don’t believe in messing around with the L-word carelessly unless I mean it. I’m not going to validate if I feel the same way.

Instead, I give him a big hug and whisper “I’m glad I make you feel safe like that with me.” What the fuck else can I say? When a guy says he “thinks” he’s falling in love, that means he already has. It’s a delicate dance that puts the onus on me not to ruin the moment or shatter his emotions.

“You don’t have to say anything back,” Thomas hastily says. I want to reply that I sure as fuck wasn’t going to, but I keep my mouth shut. A few thank yous for the wonderful evening and I hop in my car.

This relationship has escalated to a level that is slowly getting out of my control. I bear no responsibility if down the road I tell Thomas that I don’t see a future for us when I’ve repeated that all along.

Thomas is so good to me and makes me happy. I’m heading down the L-word path as well. For now, I’m able to reign it in with my Spock-like logic along with residual emotions for an ex-boyfriend. I’m capable of stopping myself from falling for someone. The problem occurs when I do give in; as seen with my inability to get over my ex-boyfriend, falling out of love is the challenge.

I wish he hadn’t told me he was falling in love with me this evening. It feels like an extra level of attention that I just can’t give in my life right now.

All I can do is continue to pull back on the progression of our relationship in hope of slowing it down as much as possible.