Stef Woods

Many emotions

I tried to contain my shock, as Mr. Agency walked toward me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. (For all intents and purposes, he had made the most minimal of effort to be there for me over the past four weeks. So, I was totally caught off guard when he showed up to my fundraising party.)

Me [after a long pause]: I’m surprised that you came.

Mr. Agency: I told you that I would be here to support you.

Me: Yeah you said that you would try to make it. I just figured that you’d be too busy with your event. [Long pause.] But, I’m glad you’re here.

I kissed him on the cheek again, and we sat down with T, Autumn and a few other friends to have dinner. The awkwardness between us was palpable. I had almost written Mr. Agency off entirely, but then he showed up at the party and Best Boy didn’t. I was thoroughly confused and not sure what to make of it.

As we ate our meals and talked about football, I began to relax more. I cared about him and was genuinely happy that he came to support me.

Me: I hope that things go well tonight [at the event].

Mr. Agency: Thanks! I’ll come by afterward.

Me [with a surprised tone in my voice]: You will?

Mr. Agency: Yes. It’s your night!

Me: Really?

Mr. Agency: Yes, baby, it's all about you!  [We laugh.]

Me: Cool. I'd like that.

I walked to Foggy Bottom with two friends who were bemoaning the lack of dating options in their lives. I laughed and said, half-jokingly:

I’m bald, and I have more men than I know what to do with! Whoever says that cancer kills your sex life needs to come talk to me!

When I arrived home, I went online to see if there was any news about Rod, my friend with stage four colon cancer. I had received two more emails from mutual friends waiting for news and processing their own grief. I got into bed to try to get some rest.

Two hours later, Mr. Agency came over to my place. I poured him a drink, and we went into the bedroom. For all the confusion in our relationship, I never had to worry about whether or not the sex was going to be great. It always was.

I had told Mr. Agency about Rod when we were at Hudson. While we were talking in bed, Mr. Agency asked me how I was doing.

Me: It doesn’t seem fair. We both were supposed to beat this together. We were supposed to celebrate being done with treatment together. He’s such a wonderful guy, and it’s not right that he’s dying so young. His poor family and friends.

Mr. Agency held me close, as I buried my head in his chest and sobbed. I cried so hard that my body shook, and I could barely catch my breath.

There was a lot for Mr. Agency and I to discuss, but for now, I was thankful that he was there and that he showed me that he cared.

We could talk about “us” tomorrow, right?

What a girl wants

I accepted the fact that Mr. Agency wasn't interested in being in a committed relationship with me and focused on what would make me happy.  I sent Best Boy the following text:

What are your plans tonight? I’d love to see you…and not just for snuggling ;).

Best Boy responded in less than a minute:

Really??

Me: Yes. I thought about it and realized that I want you.

Best Boy: 🙂

I didn’t expand or define what “wanting” him meant, though. In the midst of treatment, all I knew was that I wanted to be with a guy who cared about me and cared for me. Best Boy had proven that he was there for me time and time again, but I hadn’t given any thought about whether or not we should be exclusive. That just wasn't a priority for me right now.

Best Boy came over that evening and again over the weekend. I was still hemorrhaging a bit and very weak. Not surprisingly, he was incredibly sensitive to my needs. (I would later learn that my iron and red blood counts were low and that I needed five days of iron IVs.)

Without me having to explain everything, Best Boy just understood and knew what to do. I had a limited amount of energy to exert, and I wanted to exert that energy with him in bed. He would walk my dog or help me get things around the house so I wouldn’t push it more than I should. He made me feel safe and special, letting me nap with my head in his lap as he softly rubbed my head with his hand.

In bed, he was gentle and loving. We spent a lot of time having sex on our sides – in the spoon position. In the midst of all the changes that I was experiencing, my physical connection with Best Boy remained a constant.

We didn’t talk extensively about our relationship, but I did tell him that I hadn’t yet spoken to Mr. Agency.

Me: I thought about it, and it doesn’t seem necessary right now. Whatever his take on our relationship is, it doesn't change the fact that I want to be with you.

Later that night as we watched television and talked about sports, Best Boy turned the conversation toward his relationship with Melanie*. Apparently, he told Melanie that they should just be friends and colleagues, and no longer sleep together. I hadn’t asked him to do that, but I must admit that the news made me smile.  I replied with a simple:

Oh.  That's good to know.

Mr. Agency continued to text me on a daily basis, and I sent casual responses in return. I tried to seem blasé, as though it didn’t matter if and when I saw him again. But, in my heart, I felt differently. I hadn’t loved Mr. Agency, but I definitely cared about him. And, I didn't know if reconnecting with Best Boy and seeing Mr. Agency on occasion were mutually exclusive.

As my website redesign and blog fundraiser neared, I wasn’t sure if any of the men in my life would be attending. Philly Matt and I had talked about him coming down to help me out during an upcoming chemotherapy week, but he had asked about the party in our last conversation. Best Boy had told Autumn that he might be able to attend. And, when I first posted about the event on Facebook, Mr. Agency commented that he would try to be there.

When it comes to Facebook party invitations, I realize that a reply of “maybe” typically translates into a “no.” I also recognized that Philly Matt lived out of town and Best Boy and Mr. Agency had hectic work schedules. I thus assumed that none of the three guys would end up making it to the lounge in late October.

As luck would have it, though, one guy did attend. And, it was the guy who I least expected to see.

To be continued…

* I gave Best Boy's girl the nickname of "Melanie." In retrospect, that might have been confusing since my web designer's real name is Melanie. They are not one in the same.
 

The next chapter? (Part II)

Best Boy was coming over my place for the first time in seven weeks.  (I wasn't sure of his motivation for doing so, but I thankfully didn't have time to overanalyze the situation.)   When he arrived, I introduced him to my friend, Carly.  They exchanged pleasantries before she headed home.

Once Best Boy and I were alone, it was like no time had passed since our last interaction. His smile was warm, and the conversation was easy.

I had a craving for chicken tenders while I was recouping from chemotherapy, and he had offered to pick some up for me.  Best Boy went into the kitchen to put the tenders on a plate, and I realized how touching this simple act was.  Despite the fact that I had told him that we could no longer sleep together, Best Boy remained giving and kind. (At a time when I was feeling sick and vulnerable, that was just what the doctor ordered!)

When I was finished eating, he reached for my hand, as we watched the game.  At the next commercial break, he moved toward me, kissing me softly and gently.  A part of me wanted to continue, but a larger part of me worried about my relationship with Mr. Agency.  I pulled my lips away and said:

I’m still seeing Mr. Agency, which was why I told you over the phone that we couldn’t mess around.

Best Boy: Okay.

Me [pausing]: But, I've missed you.  [He smiles.]  I just don't know if we could be anything more than we were, given our history.  [Pause.]  And, it's not like you're looking for a relationship.  [He had said that back in August.]

Best Boy: Well, I’m not looking to be in a bad relationship. That doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be in a relationship if it was right.  I just know that I’ve lost my focus and gotten caught up in a lot of unnecessary drama in past relationships.  I don't want to be in that situation again.

Me: I can appreciate that.  I guess I’m trying to figure out what I want right now.

Best Boy: I think you change what you want every week!  [We laugh.]

Me: Yeah, I won’t disagree with you.  All bets are off during chemo. [Pause.]  I just don't know if it's even possible for us to be more than friends or friends with benefits.  So much would need to happen for us to work.  I’d need to figure things out with Mr. Agency.  [I use hand gestures to accentuate each point.]  Then, we’d need to figure out if we want the same things.  And then, if we do, you’d need to stop hanging out with Melanie*. (Based on Facebook comments, it appeared as though he and Melanie had been spending time together as more than just friends.  Best Boy's facial expression seems to confirm that what I had gleaned from Facebook was correct.)  And then, if all that happens, you’d have to talk to Mr. Exec.  I really wouldn’t envy you for that conversation.  [He nods.]  That’s a lot of stuff!

Best Boy: It is.

In processing my thoughts out loud with Best Boy, I came to the conclusion that I first needed to decide if I wanted to continue my relationship with Mr. Agency.  I mentioned to Best Boy that I wasn’t sure if Mr. Agency’s work schedule and my needs during treatment were compatible. 

Me: I just need to talk to him and figure things out.

Our eyes became heavy, as the end of the basketball game neared.

Me: You can either stay on the couch or come into the bedroom with me.  But, if you just want to keep me up all night, then you should probably sleep on the couch.  I need some rest!  [We laugh.]

Best Boy: I'm tired, too.  Let me walk Nutter and then we can go to sleep.

After he came to bed, we fell asleep with our arms around each other.   I felt safe…and confused.  I had thought that Best Boy and I were never meant to be more than friends.  And, I had thought that Mr. Agency would continue to be there for me like he had been early on in our relationship.  But now, Mr. Agency was rarely around, and Best Boy was giving me just what I needed.

I needed some clarity about the situation and was thankful that the coming days would give me just that.

To be continued…

* I gave Best Boy's girl the nickname of "Melanie." In retrospect, that might have been confusing since my web designer's real name is Melanie. They are not one in the same.

Owning It

In a recent conversation with my father, I told him that I write about “my relationships and sex and stuff” without providing him a link or using the word, “blog.”  I then explained my business plan and my advocacy goals for the next two years.  I could tell from his pauses and tone that he was thoroughly confused.  (Who wouldn’t be?  I think most people are confused at first when they hear me talk about advocating for breast cancer awareness and body-friendly sex toys in the same sentence.)

City Dad: So…are you telling me this because you don’t want me to be embarrassed?

Me [pausing]: I guess so.

City Dad: Is there anything you think would embarrass me?

Me [pausing]: I hope not.

City Dad: Is there anything that embarrasses you?

Me [without hesitating]: No.

City Dad: Well, I’m glad that you told me so I didn’t find out another way.  And, it’s not like I thought you were a saint!  [We laugh.]

After hanging up the telephone, I thought about what I had said.  Nothing in here embarrasses me.  Nothing.  This blog details my life and my choices.  I’ve made some good decisions (often professionally) and some bad decisions (often with respect to my relationships with men).  But, I don’t regret any of the experiences I’ve had.  They’ve made me who I am today, and I love the person that I’ve become.  If I was embarrassed about anything in here, I’d be embarrassed about who I am.  That’s not me.

One of my dear friends is a life coach, and she always reminds me of how much I “own it.”  I smile when she uses that expression because I do own my life and my choices.

When people write rude comments on my blog, I laugh and take their words with a grain of salt.  (And, I don’t like salt.)  How can I let the thoughts of someone that I don’t call a friend affect me?  By having a blog and putting my life out there, I invite comments and criticism.  There are many readers who I don’t know in real life that manage to respectfully disagree with my choices and actions.  If someone comments in a way that’s disrespectful, I let it roll off of me.  I own it.

I was the girl with the long, beautiful red hair, and now I’m bald.  I miss my hair, but I know that I’m just where I’m meant to be in life right now.  Wearing a wig doesn’t change the fact that I’m in treatment for cancer and doesn’t make me feel comfortable.  It’s not authentic to my experience.  I’ve done photo shoots and interviews bald.  I walk around town bald.  I host events bald.  I’ve flirted shamelessly and had amazing sex bald.  I own it.

I’m a liberal and a Christian.  I used to practice law, but now I’m a blogger and advocate.  I’m a woman, and I think about sex more than the average teenage boy.  From my perspective, none of these things are mutually exclusive.   Labels and identifiers are just words.  I may be a writer, but I let my actions speak for themselves.  As an attorney, I ruffled a few feathers by addressing issues that made partners and nonprofit directors uncomfortable.  I do much of the same with my blog.  I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve accomplished things of which I’m proud.  But, through it all, I own it.

How do you own it, or how do you want to own it?

Needs

I had expected that Mr. Agency was coming over to my place in the middle of the day to end our relationship.  He had gone from being attentive and caring during my first round of chemotherapy to MIA during my second round.  I feared that his demanding work schedule and my needs during treatment weren’t compatible.

Mr. Agency walked into my apartment and gave me a big hug and kiss.  He greeted Autumn, and then I went to get him a drink.  He and Autumn had always gotten along well, but now she responded to his questions curtly without a smile on her face.  (Who hasn’t done the same when being protective of a loved one?)

Mr. Agency and I sat down on the couch to watch football, while Autumn continued to work online.  As she focused on writing her paper and I tried to keep my eye on the game, Mr. Agency kept moving closer and closer to me on the sofa.  He put his arm around me and gave me little kisses.  He kept tapping my butt and moving my hand toward his pants.  I looked down and noticed that he was hard underneath his jeans.  I wanted to say:

Aren't we breaking up?  What's going on here?

But, since Autumn was in the room, I went with:

Are you hungry?  [He nods.]  Want to see what I have to eat?

We walked into the kitchen, and he put his arms around me, kissed my neck and lightly spanked my ass. I turned to face him, and he kissed me passionately.  After a minute or two, I removed my lips from his and said:

Where have you been all week?

Mr. Agency: You know that I’ve had a lot going on at work since I got back into town.

Me: I do.  And, most weeks I’m fine with seeing you whenever is convenient, but I can’t do that chemo week.  It's too tough.  [Pause.]  I needed you and you weren't there for me.  I get that you don’t like making firm plans, but if I think you might be coming over, I won’t ask anyone else to. 

Mr. Agency: I'm sorry.

Me: I get that this is a lot and that we're a new relationship.  But, I need all the help I can get during chemo week so for the next round, I’ll need more from you.  It doesn’t matter if it’s late, I just need someone here in case anything bad happens.  Is that okay?

Mr. Agency: Yes.

Me: You can handle a night or two during the next round then?

Mr. Agency: Yep.

We kissed again, and he suggested that we go into the bedroom.

Me [smiling]: Sure.  Give me a minute so I can talk to Autumn first.  [He headed into the bedroom.]

Me [to Autumn]: Well, I’m kind of surprised, but I guess everything is cool.

Autumn: Really?  Why didn’t he come over until today?

Me: Work stuff.  But, I let him know that he needs to let me know when he’s coming over and be more attentive during the next round.

Autumn: And, he’s okay with that?

Me: He said he was. 

I thanked Autumn for being so protective of me and said goodbye in case she wasn’t still at my place when Mr. Agency and I were done.  (For those of you who are wondering, there’s a second bedroom in my apartment to separate my bedroom from the living room.  I didn’t have to worry about Autumn hearing anything.)

I smiled to myself as I walked down the hall and joined Mr. Agency in the bedroom.

*Sigh*

What’s Going On?

Mr. Agency and I were both out of town in early October.  I had planned to return from Manhattan on Thursday, but Mr. Agency wasn’t entirely sure when he would get back to DC.

Mr. Agency: I’ll see you when I get back over the weekend.

Me [always the planner]: Which night?

Mr. Agency: Either Friday or Saturday, depending on work.  I’ll come over the night I get back.

Me: Okay.  You aren’t heading back on Friday for the fundraiser?  [Once a month, there was a fundraiser at a neighborhood restaurant to benefit a cause that Mr. Agency supported.]

Mr. Agency: No.  If I make it back on Friday, I have another event.

I didn’t hear from Mr. Agency until Saturday morning.  He texted me that he had just gotten home and looked forward to seeing me that evening after work. 

During the day, I went to the salon to donate what was left of my hair to Locks of Love.  (In four days, I had lost half of my hair from chemotherapy.)  I hadn’t yet embraced the sexiness of the buzz cut, but I tried to fake it.  When Mr. Agency knocked on my door, I greeted him with red lace lingerie and four-inch stilettos.

He smiled and laughed since he hadn’t expected to see me like that.  I fixed him a drink and then we went into the bedroom.  On the surface, sex with Mr. Agency was as loving and intense as ever.  We embraced each other tightly throughout the act, peppering our moans of “more,” and “yes” with “I missed you so much.”   We both came, and when we were done, we discussed our weeks.  On the surface, everything was normal.

But, a part of me felt like there was an elephant in the room.  While we were having sex, Mr. Agency moved his hand to hold the back of my head.  When he touched my very short hair, he moved his hand away rather quickly.  Maybe it was just a coincidence, but I couldn’t help but think:

I was the girl with the long, sexy red hair.  Now, I'm the girl with the buzz cut, and soon I'll be the girl who is bald.

I didn’t cry or bring up my fears, but it seemed like Mr. Agency sensed what I needed.  He held me close and told me how sexy I was.  And, in the morning, when we had sex again, he told me much of the same before he headed off to the Redskins game.

Me: I’m going to turn into a pumpkin on Tuesday with the next round of chemotherapy.  Come over before then if you can.

Mr. Agency: Okay.

The following day, he texted me to wish me luck with my first television interview.  (If you'd like to see the interview and how I looked with the buzz cut, click here.)

On Tuesday, Mr. Agency texted me to let me know that he hoped that this round of chemotherapy was better than the first.  He texted me the next day, too, but he didn’t come over or offer to bring me anything like he had in the past.

The second round hit me harder, as I was on four different medications to combat the side effects from chemotherapy.  Two of the drugs caused irritability and temporary amnesia so I felt like a moody zombie.  On Wednesday, I finally texted Mr. Agency the question that I had been wondering:

Will I be seeing you anytime soon?

Mr. Agency: I hope to see you one night this weekend.

"Hoped?"  I thought to myself.  "One night!"

I stared at my cell phone with a confused expression on my face.  He seemed so blasé about his plans, and I didn’t understand why he wasn’t being as attentive as he had been previously.  Of course, his work was important, but I was going through treatment for cancer!

Later that day, my confusion mounted as I went on Facebook.  My news feed showed a photo of Mr. Agency and a friend…at the fundraiser…on Friday.

Did he really come home a night early and attend the event?

Why would he lie to me when he had to have known that there would be photographs taken there?

I had worried that cancer would be too much for us so early in our relationship.  Had I hit the nail on the head?

To be continued…

From FWBs to Roomies?

Time to tackle a reader's question from Formspring:

Question: Can living with a "friend with benefits" work?  Relationship is pre-existing, but the possibility of being roomies is new.

Answer: My initial impression is that living with a friend with benefits cannot work, but that might be too simplistic an answer.

What prompted the discussion about moving in together?  Since you are asking if a relationship could work with your friend with benefits, then I wonder if you've developed feelings for your friend.  Has he or she given you any indication that this could be anything more than the current arrangement?  

If you care about this person and want more than a casual relationship, then living together as roommates might be difficult for you.  What if he or she is sleeping with you one night and then someone else the next?  What if he or she doesn't come home one night?  I would hate for you to get hurt and then, to add insult to injury, have to look for another roommate or place to live.

I recommend communicating with your friend with benefits prior to signing a lease.  What are your goals with this living situation and what are his or hers?  Be as honest as you can in the hopes that he or she will be honest, too.  If you both are only interested in being friends and saving money by living together, then maybe this can work.  Nonetheless, laying some ground rules might help you make a smooth transition from friends with benefits to roommates.  For example:

No sex once you start living together; or

No bringing people of the opposite sex over without giving the other person a heads up first.

(I appreciate that having rules might seem unnecessary since you’re both adults, but communication and a clear plan now will alleviate problems later.)

Typically in a friends with benefits arrangement, one person wants more than something casual.  There might be a chance that both of you want to be more than friends with benefits.  If that’s the case, then I would recommend trying to date each other before becoming roommates.  If you move in with someone you’ve just started dating, it automatically becomes a serious relationship.  Give yourselves time to figure out if you can transition from friends with benefits to being a couple before taking such a serious step.

What other advice do you have for this reader?

The Cart Before The Horse

I felt as though Mr. Agency and I were in a good place.  I saw him regularly, he treated me well, and I was content.  There wasn’t any urgency to define where we were going, especially since we were a new couple and I had just started chemotherapy. 

The night after the Gala, I made a comment that I hoped that we could go out for a drink once I was feeling stronger.

Me: Or to an event…or lunch.  Something that doesn’t involve us at here at 2am.  I’m okay with that most of the time, but not all of the time.

Mr. Agency: We can do that.  [Pause.]  A lot of my past girlfriends thought that I wouldn’t work as much or would look for another job once I was in a relationship, but that’s not me.

Me: I realize that.  I’m just talking about lunch or a drink once in a while.

Mr. Agency: Yeah, I just want to make sure that you understand where I'm coming from.  I don’t see settling down or changing my lifestyle anytime soon.  I doubt I’ll get married or start a family until I’m much older.

Me: That’s fine.

Mr. Agency: Most girls say that in the beginning, but then they have a problem with it as the months go on.  I don’t want you to resent me down the road.

Me: I’m not most girls, and I doubt that I’ll ever resent you.  I know how important your work is to you and how you want to take things to the next level professionally.  If we're going to continue dating, we have to support each other's goals. 

Mr. Agency: Other girls have said that to me before, but then the resentments kick in when they realize that I'm not going to change.

Me: I'm not asking you to change, and I hope that you don't ask me to change.  I don’t really care if I ever get married.  After I finish treatment, I’m going to focus on building my brand.  And then, in 2012, I want to adopt a little girl.  I hadn't planned on doing that with a partner.

Mr. Agency: Oh.  [Pause.]  Okay.

Me: I care about you, and I’m glad we’re together.  But, we've only known each other since July.  Do we need to figure out our future right now?

Mr. Agency: I guess we don’t.

I had hoped that would be the end of the discussion, but apparently, Mr. Agency had more to say.  Two nights later, as we were snuggling on the sofa bed, he kissed me and commented:

I feel like I’m just a filler until you adopt.

Me [with a very confused look on my face]: Are you joking?

Mr. Agency: Nope.  [I look at him with very wide eyes.]  In every joke, there’s some truth!

Where was this coming from?  Had aliens just possessed Mr. Agency’s body?

Me: Seriously.  What are you talking about?

Mr. Agency: Well, you said how you wanted to adopt a child and wanted to do that alone.  What about us?

Me: What about us?

Mr. Agency: Well, what if I want to take things to the next level?  I want to know that you’re all in.

Me: You’re messing with me, right?

Mr. Agency: No.  What if I want more?

Me: Like marriage and kids?

Mr. Agency: Yes.

Seriously?!?  What had happened in the last 48 hours?

Me: Umm…it’s not like we’ve been dating for that long.  Can’t we just enjoy where we’re at now?  Why are we talking about what’s going to happen in future?

Mr. Agency: I just need to know that you’re all in.

Me: We're together.  We're not dating or sleeping with other people.  What more do you need?  [Pause.]  Do you want me to go on Facebook and say that we're in a relationship?  [We laugh.]  I'd happily do that, but I know you well enough to know that you won't.  You're way too private for that.  [Pause.]  You said yesterday that you were worried that I would want too much from you since that’s been your experience with other girls.  What changed in two days?

Mr. Agency: Well, I was just thinking about what we talked about.  What if I want something different?

Me: And you know that this soon?

Mr. Agency: I just want to know that if I do want more, you’re open to that.

Me: I'm not averse to it, but I'm not thinking in the long term right now.  I try to plan as much as I can, but things happen as they are meant to.  It’s not like I expected to get cancer, but I adjusted my life accordingly.  Adopting a child is very important to me, but if we keep dating and we decide that we want the same things, then I'm open to that.  Does that make sense to you?

Mr. Agency: Yes.

He smiled and kissed me goodnight.  We fell asleep and had sex in the morning before I headed off to New York City.  I was still very confused about what Mr. Agency wanted (probably because Mr. Agency was very confused about what he wanted), but I trusted that time would tell if we were on the same page.

Back In The Saddle

I felt so sick after my first round of chemotherapy that I didn’t have sex for almost a week.  When I finally did have sex, I felt like I was “dialing it in.”  To me, “dialing it in” means that I was doing it for the sake of doing it.  I’m not one to fake it, but I definitely wasn’t performing to the best of my abilities.  It was difficult to be in certain positions or give a good blow job without feeling nauseous.  And, I worried that having an orgasm would be too much for me while I was recouping.  (Aren’t orgasms for women like Pringles?  Who can have just one?)

Through it all, Mr. Agency was incredibly understanding.  I started to feel better from my first round on September 30th and decided to go forward with my plans to head to my 20th High School Reunion.  Autumn and I would be driving up to Manhattan, and Mr. Agency came over to be with me before I left.  (He also was heading out of town on a business trip that weekend so we wouldn’t see each other for eight days straight.  That was long for us.)

In the morning, Mr. Agency began to go down on me.  With each stroke of his tongue, I wondered whether chemotherapy had caused me to lose my sex drive.  I worried that I wouldn’t be able cum as easily or as often because of treatment.  As my mind wandered, I reminded myself of what the doctor had told me:

Sex drive is more mental than physical.

I let myself go and stopped thinking so hard.  I realized that I wasn’t going to let cancer change my sex life anymore than it already had.

Me: Right there.  Please don’t stop.

Mr. Agency always aimed to please.  He kept his tongue on my clit, and I came.  Hard.

I thought to myself, “Yes!  I still got it!”

I was glowing from having gotten off, but I also felt unsure about my future with Mr. Agency.  Were we on the same page

Feeling Lucky

I had let Best Boy know that we needed to take the “benefits” out of our “friends with benefits” arrangement.  It surprised me that he cared more about me than he had led on, but my energy – in and out of the bedroom – was focused on my new relationship with Mr. Agency.

Mr. Agency and I continued to see each other two or three times a week.  His schedule typically precluded us from going out on dates, but we had found a good balance.

My mood in mid-September was less lighthearted, when I learned that I needed chemotherapy.  I was worried how the drugs would change me — and us.

Me: You realize that this is going to get a lot worse, right?

Mr. Agency: Yes, and I'll be here for you.

Me: I just feel really vulnerable now. Like I don't want cancer to be the reason why we don't work out.

Mr. Agency: That's not going to happen.

Me: If I'm bald?

Mr. Agency: I'll help you find a hot wig. Some look that you've always wanted to try. You are going to look sexy no matter what!

Me [smiling as I bury my head in his chest]: Maybe…what if I lose my sex drive?

Mr. Agency: That's not going to happen with you.

Me [laughing out loud]: Misty joked that if I lose my sex drive, I would still have a normal person's drive.

Mr. Agency: Exactly.  And, if you lose your drive, then it just means that I have to work harder.

I kissed him, as I fought back tears of happiness. That feeling only increased after I had my port* installed.  I hadn’t expected the procedure to install the port to be so painful and was surprised at how rough I felt.

My friend, Tricia, was over helping me out that evening, when Mr. Agency texted me to see how I was doing.  He offered to come over after his event.

Tricia: Are you sure you want him to see you like this?

Me; Since I’m hurting so much?  [She nods.]  I think so.  Chemo is going to be much tougher.  If he can’t handle this, then at least I’ll know.

Tricia: I can see that.  [Pause.]  Are you going to be okay if he can’t handle it?

Me: I hope so.  I’m sure it would hurt a bit, but better to find out now than later.

There was a knock on the door, and Tricia went to answer it.  (She had met Mr. Agency once before when we all went for a dog walk together.)

Mr. Agency [to Tricia]: How’s she doing?

Tricia: Not so good.  She’s in a lot of pain.  Will you be able to help her out tonight?

Mr. Agency: Definitely.

And, he did just that.  He held me close, brought me water, walked my dog, and kissed me sweetly.  He understood that I wasn’t up for having sex and didn’t push me.  He reminded me that he would be there for me and that I’d get through this.

In the midst of the pain, I smiled.  I felt very, very lucky.

* A port is a tiny device that is surgically inserted under the skin in your chest and provides access to a vein.  It makes receiving chemotherapy much, much easier, and eliminates the pain associated with not finding a vein.  If you or a loved one needs to get chemo, I highly recommend getting a port!