Deep thoughts for a Tuesday

I don't write much about the sad side of being his boy, but classes are starting again soon and my friends are already talking about the parties and the LGBT student pride stuff and just the daily fun of being together on campus. I'm not going to be there. I'll be home looking at a computer screen and waiting like a pet for the husband to come home and take me out for a walk.

It got even worse when he discovered that the grocery store will deliver an order for free. A five dollar tip to him is worth more than having to endure an hour driving, shopping, then bringing back groceries. But for me that's fun time out and about with him pushing the cart and telling me about his day.

Sometimes it gets to be too much, life in a beautiful high-rise prison. One person mentioned that my life before had lots of freedom but also financial struggle and no love. Now I have the guy my body craves and I never even think about how much something costs when I put it in the grocery cart or buy it online… but it's lonely.

Even my dad doesn't spend much time here. He's out working or bowling or dating. He's happy here. He's almost forty and he gets to live without worrying. I like seeing him less stressed, but he doesn't really take me places either. When I talk to him he says, "You have a husband. You chose him and made a commitment. You need to work it out with him. It's not my place to get involved." He points me to A with my worries. He doesn't want to interfere.

I spend less than an hour each morning cleaning things that already clean... then do the gym and then try to write but I'm not out to see things and get inspired so it's hard to think up new storylines. I even googled how to do prison cell workouts for ideas on how I can get more movement in this apartment. I'm going crazy.

He knows me so well now and he knows I'm not happy like this. Normally I bug him with conversation and questions and jokes when he comes home but now it's like I just sit quietly by his side. It sucks.

He called me at lunch time and said he'd come home a little early so we could talk. He found me in the kitchen making the chicken cacciatore he likes (a healthy version). He turned off the stove and took me to our bedroom (dad was watching TV in the living room). He told me to get naked and he made us a bubble bath then turned the lights off and lit some candles.

We talk best when we are naked and in the dark. He knows I crumble when I look him in the eye and I lose my nerve. He knows I won't say something if I think it'll upset him. He knows I'll pretend it's ok and he loves me enough to push through my wall.

We talked until the water got cold. He drained some and turned in the hot water again. He says we have to compromise here because going to campus is too far away and the thought of me on an hour bus ride scares him too much. He says he'll try to take me to the LGBT pride club at least once a month to their Tuesday night thing.

He says he's going to hire a math tutor, an unattractive male who has to be at least twenty pounds overweight or over forty years old, to meet with me a few hours each week at his office, not in our home. I told him he should at least be closer to my age and have a good personality. We decided he should be gay but like really gay and someone I'd hang out with. Ok it's not like you can actually order a tutor like this. 😋 We probably sound evil. Sorry. This is how couples talk when alone.

How sad is that? He's going to hire a friend to spend time with me and help me with math.

I don't really have any friends in our building. It's mostly career minded upper income people or Armenian/Persian people with rich parents who are paying the bills. They are the ones I usually like to watch lifting weights at the gym.

He says if things don't get better this semester then he'll look at getting me back on campus but there aren't really any universities for me nearby. CalTech is super smart engineers and Cal State LA is a low achieving commuter school. Occidental is… I'm not sure. That's one University in LA you never ever hear about other than the fact that Obama went there.

I gave up my life to be his good boy.

Would I take that back? Never. Do I need to speak up more? Yes. Will I? Nope. Do I like asking myself questions and answering them? No comment.