So Baby Mama comes over tonight. Unplanned, as of about 2 hours before he shows up, which is usually when I know that it’s gonna be a good visit. I’m flitting around my room when he calls to be buzzed into the gate, panicking because my eyes are tired and the lighting in my room is shit, that funky toenail of mine is unpainted while the rest are pink, and I’m still wearing WAY too many layers for things to start in a timely fashion. I had left my door unlocked, and he slips into my apartment soundlessly, making me jump when I almost run into him standing right outside my bedroom door.

He smiles. “Hi.” Kisses me.

I kiss him back, take off that stupid he wears in the winter, and before be can back me into my room, I tell him to take off his shoes and lock my front door. No, no one else will be coming home – roommate’s in NY for the weekend. He knows we’re as alone as we always are, but he listens to me anyway, and I follow him towards my door, settling on my couch while he takes off his shoes. We haven’t made out on my couch for a while, and we have, like, an HOUR before he has to go home. I’m thinking foreplay. Plus…things tend to be pretty hit or miss with BM. Sometimes, he’ll come over and will never get hard enough to fuck me properly, but will work his magic fingers until I come. (Yes, I said magic. Yes, I meant it.) In fact….that probably happens more often than not…

When we first started hooking up, almost a year ago…shit, I remember that first time like it was a lucid dream I never want to forget. We had been chatting online at work for weeks, and things had suddenly taken this very sexy, unexpected turn, and he had ended up on my couch one afternoon during a lunch break. Yes, I knew that he lived with his girlfriend of 8 years, and that they had a 2-year-old son. Yes, it bothered me, because I knew he was unhappy. No, it didn’t stop me from what I did then….or several other times since then. Anyway we sat there, not really saying anything, but looking at each other, and the sexual tension was so thick it almost suffocated us both. When I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I asked, “Can we at least make out?” He let out a huge breath so quickly, he must have been unconsciously holding it. He practically lunged at me, barely able to murmur “Fuck yes” before grabbing the back of my neck and crushing his mouth over mine.

My finest “movie moment” ever.

I don’t remember so many details about that initial tryst, other than the fact that I lost my dress pretty quickly. He remembers that I was wearing a white bra and no undies, which I tend to do when I think I’m gonna get laid. I do remember leading him back to my bedroom, and him going down on me without a warning. And I distinctly remember not having sex with him, because…..he couldn’t. He couldn’t the next time he came over, either. Or various other times since then.

Which brings me back to today. He’s on top of me, on the couch, and I’m trying not to think about the fact that I don’t feel any activity down there, and focus on the amazing way that he kisses me. My God, is he a fine kisser. Like…he’s my kissing soulmate. And if not for the fact that I can feel myself getting soaking wet, I could have just stayed there and let him kiss me for an hour. This is not what he has in mind though – whew! – and in a heartbeat I’m straddling him, and he’s guiding my hips back and forth over his lap, presumably trying to get the fire started. We stumble our way to my bedroom, groping and kissing the whole way, but not before he pulls my tank completely over my head and buries his head into my massive boobs, sucking each nipple until they’re a little sore.

I’m not trying to make this X rated, so suffice it to say that we’re in business…and then out again rather quickly. This, surprisingly, doesn’t bother me. I had already come once, and I knew he had needed to, so while he’s lying there, with embarrassment written all over his face, I couldn’t care less and am really happy he got off. We lay there for a few minutes, naked, intertwined, laughing, kissing, teasing, touching – and I love this almost as much as I love the sex. He suggests a shower. I’m ok with a shower…but we still have at least 20 minutes before he has to leave. Maybe even half an hour. I’m tryna come again, and a shower feels premature. I tell him so, and this is when he says to me, “We can be normal fuck buddies and watch TV or something.”

And this is what runs though my mind: “WHAT? FUCK BUDDIES?!?! WHAT PART OF THIS LAST 10 MONTHS HAS WHITTLED US DOWN TO FUCK BUDDIES?” In about 2 seconds every crazy emotion I had felt, the tears I had shed, the healing and time it took for me to get to this place where we can enjoy each other’s company without feeling like we’re about to drive a fucking bus off a cliff run through my body. In about 2 seconds I went from perfect, post-coital contentment to feeling like a high school girl that just lost her V card to the jock that hit her and quit her.

What I actually say is, “Fuck Buddies? Really?!” Either he completely misses my tone, or I do a pretty damn good job of keeping what I’m feeling out of my voice, because then he says, “No, what you should really do is feed me.”

“Feed you? Are you fucking KIDDING me?!”

He chuckles. “I mean, I haven’t eaten all day, so if you’ve got anything…”

This is when I punch him in the ribs. “Watch TV with you? Feed you? I KNOW you know I’m not your fucking girlfriend…” He laughs again, and instead of TV or food, we shower. Then we fuck again. The second time tonight was so amazing, I can’t put it into words.

Before tonight, I kept thinking that I was done. Really ready to move on. I mean, his girlfriend just gave birth to his baby girl, for chrissake. Not to mention the fact that I just started pseudo-seeing this other guy that I anticipate completely falling for (which, undoubtedly, will not end well for me). But while we were lying in my bed, (pre-fuck-buddy-comment, of course), I was feeling completely comfortable and momentarily happy, and I said to him, “You know what’s sad? I could do this with you forever.” Half smiling, he concurred, “I know. But it’s not sad. Let’s embrace it. Let’s run with it as long as we can.”

And I want to. I really do. But despite myself, I still have this nagging feeling that I deserve better than this.

And I mean, c’mon…fuck buddies? Really?!