I picked Luke up last night after work. His car was in the shop and he happened to be close to my work. His mom could have gotten him but I was close by and it meant we could spend some time together.
Being a new driver at 28 makes me nervous to drive with more experienced drivers in my passenger seat. I find that given my new driver status people love to be back seat drivers and are more critical of my driving. I’m much more confident about my abilities when I’m alone in the car or have my 15 year old brother in the passenger seat. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a confident driver, I just hate judgey people. Picking up Luke in my little car was nerve wracking. Once he was in my car though and we were headed back to my place it was fine. I voiced my concerns and he assured me that he didn’t have a negative comment to make about my driving abilities.
I love how comfortable he is at my place. He just crawls into my bed, makes him self at home. I cooked dinner and baked cookies while he slept. After dinner we both crawled into bed and watched tv and cuddled… as we do. He ended up calling in sick so he could spend more time with me. As we lay there, him snoring, I couldn’t help but feel guilty for having another man in the bed my former husband and I bought together for our first place, on the mattress we bought with wedding money. Everyone assures me it’s fine and I’m crazy but I think I might need to buy a new bed.
Finally around 2:30am we decided to take him home. He was willing to stay but he needed to stay up late to keep on a proper sleep schedule for night shift and I desperately needed to sleep as I had to be at work for 9am. We get outside and I hand him the keys to my beloved Frankie, something I NEVER do. No one drives my baby but me… and apparently Luke. He has this cute joke about her not being his “Forte”.
Why am I babbling about this? I cooked dinner for another man. I’m intimate with another man. I fall asleep next to him. I bake him cookies. I sat in the passenger seat of my car with my hand on his thigh while he drove us back to his place. I did all of these things… with someone who was not my former husband. It feels good and right at the time, but then when I have time to contemplate it I feel like a cheating whore who has betrayed my husband… Even though he left me. He chose a race car over me. He decided he was better off with his parents than he was starting a family and having a life with me.
After my former husband had left, before Luke was in the picture, he had gotten frustrated with me while I was pleading with him to come home. He actually had the audacity to call me a fat cock sucking whore. I’ve never told anyone that before. I don’t know why but it stuck with me. Is that really what I am? I’d lost a ton of weight, I was incredibly loyal to him, and even counting Luke into my numbers I can still count the number of men I’ve been with on one hand and have room to spare. I don’t know why this comment hurts so much, but it still does, even now. He is the type of guy that everyone has a soft spot for. Your typical nice guy. They type of guy you wouldn’t think had a mean bone in his body.
I came out looking like the villain to all his friends and family. That’s difficult for me. I’m not the villain to Luke though. I’m just that sweet girl who bakes a mean cookie and is the creator of his new favourite pasta dish. I’m the girl that picks him up and takes him home at 2:30am even though I’m super sleepy. I’m not sure if these things count for anything but I’m hopeful they will. I’m feeling pretty hopeful about a lot lately.