With ease comes complexity.

I can’t stop thinking about him. And it’s bad. I know it’s really bad.

Last week I spent time with RCB on three different occasions. This is unprecedented. As you know, he met me and BFF out for drinks. Thursday, he sat with us while we ate lunch—for an hour, just chatting and hanging out. Friday night he came over for dinner and a movie, despite the fact that work, that day, had him no where near my home (usually, his office is a mere 15 minutes away). He, of course, stayed over. We, of course, had a fantastic time.

And, thus, the rub.

I like spending time with him. I like talking to him as I cook dinner. I like answering his phone calls when he’s on his way to my house, just letting me know he’s running a little late. I like talking with him over a bottle of wine and debating over which movie to watch. I like horizontally sharing the couch and actually watching the movie, with his fingers running through my hair, his chin resting on the top of my head. I like hearing him brushing his teeth as I put on my pajamas. I like laying in bed with his arms around me, listening to our breathing come into synch.

I do not like not knowing “what” is going on between us, where it is going, who he is seeing and what he is doing when he’s not with me, what he wants from me…how he sees us. If he sees an “us” and not just an us. I do not like the fact that I am afraid to ask him.

I know this fear is a sign of something many will say is unhealthy—that if we had a good relationship, I wouldn’t be afraid to tell him what’s on my mind. I contend it’s not fear…I really and truly feel like it’s just not the right time, that the right time is going to present itself in the near future. I think it’s too soon. I hope that is the case, because if not, I’m going to have to think back to that time a month ago when I had the courage to defend myself and my feelings and tell him what was on my mind. I will remember how good it felt to tell him and have him understand.