Gia and I had a date to go to a class together on Sunday, with a couple of hours at my place budgeted afterwards. The class was pleasant. Afterwards, in my kitchen, I made us a snack and and we chatted about this and that. Finally, I asked the question that had been on my mind for days. I was pretty sure I knew the answer.
Me: "So, do you wanna go up to my room?"
Her: "Not this date, honey."
No, not ok.
Me: "So, I was thinking about it and I realized it's been more than 6 months since we had sex just the two of us, not in a threesome. And that makes me really sad."
Her: "... I hadn't realized it had been that long.
Me: "Do you think maybe you made a mistake? When you said all those things, at the dance party the other month, about desiring me again?"
Her: "No, that wasn't a mistake. It may have been stronger then because it was just starting but it's real."
She went on to tell me about how much anxiety she's been having recently. About how it's so much worse because I mean so much to her. How she had to force down multiple panic attacks to go on this date at all. How she's here because it's exactly where she wants to be but it's so hard. It's easy with Dexter because it doesn't mean anything in the end. They don't talk about feelings. He's moving out of the country some time this summer. She's very calm with him, and of course with Eric. So, when they're there it's easier to engage with me too.
She thinks I'm beautiful, she wants me, but she needs plenty of time to relax into my presence in order to be physical without freaking out, and we rarely have that time. Knowing how much it means to me makes it worse. Everything that makes it important, makes it meaningful, also makes it worse.
We talked about some things that could make it easier. Scheduling longer dates. Doing more S&M play (it both relaxes her and turns me on, kind of ideal). Being very explicit and specific about small steps (ex. "Would you like to cuddle and maybe make out a little?" instead of "Would you like to go to my room?"). She's going to try a new anti-anxiety medication soon, that may help.
We ended up cuddling on my bed and kissing a little as we talked things through, with the very clear understanding that nothing else was going to happen that evening. I drove her home, then hung out at her place for a while, and we continued to talk. We explored what makes this relationship worthwhile for her, for me. Is it too hard? In what ways is what we're going through similar to things she and Eric went through (a lot of ways, as it turns out)?
In the end, she said that she has to take it week by week, that she can't talk about the future of our relationship because she feels like her life changes too rapidly. I said that I accepted that, but that I have faith in her and in us, and would polygamously gay-marry her tomorrow if she wanted (and if that were legal). She smiled very sweetly at that.
That night, I wrote a very long tumblr post, reflecting on all the ways that I know she loves me and I love her. She re-blogged it and affirmed that she really does.
Oh, sweetheart. I wish I could take all your burdens from you. I only want to make your life better, never harder. I can't change the fact that touch is my primary love language, I can't pretend it doesn't matter to me and I know you wouldn't want me to. I hate the thought that I might make you feel pressured. I love you, love you so much. I believe that we will work through this. I believe that we will only get stronger. Things have already gotten so much better than they were a year ago or two years ago. I believe that we are worth it to each other. I love you.