Why don’t you come over to me one evening next week? – Jan suggested in the car this morning, just before we kissed our goodbyes as I dropped him off at the station. We might do something a little more exciting than sleep.
I asked him if he had felt like it during our date or in bed and he said he hadn’t been that interested. I agreed that it didn’t occur to me that sex was on his mind. We both agreed that sex was not a requirement in a relationship but he said he knew that I was interested in it and he felt obliged to put out as it were, but age etc meant that he was physically limited. He was only seven years older than me. In sharp contrast to Goran who is seven years younger than me.
Just before we went to bed I’d had on one of my more risqué nighties, a silky red number that skimmed the tops of my thighs. I suppose at the back of my mind I’d hoped that it might have tempted him, but alas, it didn’t work. I wasn’t too disappointed but wondered if it meant that we were destined to be just very good friends. We get on very well and I don’t feel too jealous when he tells me he might have had a few sexual encounters with other women. Although I am ever so slightly satisfied to hear that these romps weren’t as earth shattering as either party had hoped.
I realise at the end of this week – a week which had begun with my diary filled with dates every evening of the week, only for most of them to be cancelled and a few replaced with ones with Jan – that perhaps I can be content with only seeing Jan, and Goran, and perhaps occasionally Sebastien and R. Certainly with the latter duo, my relationship with each is completely platonic. Lars had sent me an invitation to play but I had politely declined. There is no one I want to give up my single status for and perhaps it is enough to sleep with one man and see a few others now and again.