The Artist — Part 2, The Morning

Our first morning was a Monday morning. Still intertwined in a warm skin to skin embrace. Feet slowly getting to know one another. I felt happy and comfortable. We lay for a couple more hours. I thought to myself about how movie perfect our first kisses were. I don't know if someone's ever looked at me that way. So intense but gentle. Had I met the one last romantic person on earth? I keep telling him, and myself, that I needed to leave. I tried to sit up as he repeatedly pulled me back down closer to him. We cuddle longer. In and out of sleep. Touching. We replay last night. His kisses are perfect. We chat and laugh. I think of all our conversations and stolen glances from the night before.

My phone won't stop ringing. Our friends from last night texting me. My boyfriend calling me. I don't want to answer. I just want to stay there and lay with him.

I finally get up and start getting dressed. I can't find my phone so he calls it for me. I guess this is how we exchange numbers. My hair is an absolute mess. I do not look graceful. I tell him I'm a very private person. I don't know why I told him that and I'm really not. I think it was me being unsure if I was actually going to tell anyone I kissed another man or just bite it and not tell a soul. I leave and call my boyfriend as soon as I get out. I lie and say I couldn't answer because I was rushing to work. I don't feel bad but I realize I miss him and decide never to see the artist again.

I tell two trusted friends. I think my doubts of my relationship are remedied by this experience. But I think of him all day. I get a text. It's sweet, simple, and not at all cheesy. He texts like he's emailing. Whole thoughts rather than short responses. He's new to the iPhone world. All of it just adds to my thinking of how interesting and mesmerizing this person is.

I start to obsess.

Why isn't he texting me more? Do guys in their thirties not text as much as a girl in her twenties? Am I just being crazy? Yes, I am being crazy. I am in fact, crazy. Maybe it's because he's an artist. Maybe it's because he puts value on actual communication. Wait, why doesn't he like emojis? Why did I have to be so drunk that I can't remember all of our conversations? He hasn't texted me. He hates me. Omg he texted. YES!!! Why does he only text every two hours? He hasn't texted me since 8:39 pm yesterday. He told me about this DJ thing he doing on the weekend though. Is that an invite? It doesn't seem like an invite. I'll start planning my outfit.

I think of him for the next couple of days. I replay our first night and morning. How do I not feel bad about cheating on my boyfriend but I feel bad that the artist may or may not know I have a boyfriend. Normally, if this situation was a normalcy to my life, I feel as if I wouldn't care if someone who shouldn't be important to me knows that I have a boyfriend or not. But I did care. Because I felt this strange pull towards this other man.

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