Lovers Diary VIII,
The Biomedical Engineer and Synchronicity
I seem to have an affinity for engineers like collecting Pokemon cards. I adore them and they like me too. The biggest chatterboxes I’ve known, which I love, hard working, into the cliché romance performance I find ravishing, and they are loyal. I can assume if we are seeing each other, that’s that. Well, #2 to work, and that’s fine. They also do not let up until they get your attention in some subtle, coming at it from the sides innocent tactic, I’ve experienced at least. I used to pop into tinder for a day or two once or twice a year if I didn’t have a boyfriend, find what I like and delete my profile. I was not into the biomedical engineer, at all, he had terrible photos, which isn’t surprising, and a bare profile. I love nerds, but in general many nerds don’t know how to present themselves for dating. I’m usually the one bulldozing into their life, okay you’re my boyfriend now. This one was different in that he was relentless. Which I like.
One time he showed up, unannounced at my front door. All 6’4 covered in fiber glass from work just to say hello. “I was driving by and I saw you at the window!” He couldn’t hug me properly, I didn’t understand. Until later that day my leg was covered in shards from the pieces of fiber glass. I have very sensitive skin and scar easily. It was horrible. It took months to heal properly. He took me to Butchard Gardens and took pictures of us. He took me to the most magical, weird hidden park bursting with the most beautiful blooms. We both love flowers. I wish we had had sex there. He took pictures there as well with my dog. I come across the pictures sometimes and can’t bring myself to delete them.
He would jog from his place down the road just to meet me at the bus stop to his place. He was into mountaineering and fit as fuck because of that and rock climbing in general. With strength like that, many sexual positions are available and the sexual athleticism is a fabulous afternoon. He had glasses, which many guys I’ve dated seem to have. I made a cheesy picnic for him on my large balcony and we watched a movie he loved, which I came to enjoy too. We had the kind of naughty, discreet sex while your roommates are asleep, but could come to the kitchen and see you fucking at any moment type date. Warm in blankets with me on top of him and very muffled among the darkness and tea light candles. He had a tattoo that said “strength” on his sculpted pectoral, but facing him so he could see it and I would trace my fingers across it while on top of him. He could have been a model. He liked spoken word poetry, I love poetry too.
We went out to dinner with my best friend who is always my psychic other half and confidant. She is always right and I never fucking listen, even after a decade. He would wash his hands before a meal and was very proper for someone who grew up redneck. It seemed like a weird dichotomy. He told me I would be an amazing teacher. I was floored someone would say that, because at the time I didn’t believe it, he told me I would be a great mother.
Except, that same night, he had a couple sips of beer left. I have a habit of eating or drinking parts of someone’s food if I am really into them. I used to sit on my daddy’s lap and do the same as a bb. It is a great form of affection from me. I drank a sip of his beer and he freaked out at me. I said we could order another. “No, there was the perfect amount left in that glass”, he said. I was too bubbly to notice how weird that was until I told my best friend who hated that interaction.
He always wore baggy clothes, you would never know he had a sculpted body unless looking at his forearms. I loved his home, I pass it every week on the bus, it suited him impeccably. He had good taste in decorating, Upstairs was a loft type space, woodsy, a bed so very inviting. Climbing a wooden ladder to escape to the comfort. A mirror across from us and I would sit down, soon my legs spread eagle and him hugging me and fucking me. He would cook and I would sit and write on his scrap graph paper he always had everywhere. He was organized, clean, tidy and had a bunch of books and plants. The space was vintage, with a balcony bigger than the living room and kitchen.
Our time was transient, he got a job offer soon after finishing his Ph.D, a job in the bigger city at UBC in exactly what he wanted and would have to move away. My friends were upset how everything went down, I absolutely unhinged a bit temporarily. He got me into Neroche, which became one of my top favourite artists for a few years now. At the time I was between cities, living here, travelling twice a week to the bigger city. Ferries are a drag that often with the bus and walking, but I did it for two years. The first time we met, he flipped a pretty charming segue into picking me up from the ferry, the last one late at night. He had been looking for an opportunity to meet me, and captured it. I said yes. In the car he turned on an artist, “I think you will really love this music”. Yeah, okay.
Except, yeah. It speaks to my soul deeply. I used to listen to it everyday for a couple years. I still listen to Neroche often. Tryptamine is my favourite album. Maybe coincidence, maybe not that he knew me so well. We didn’t end well, but I left with parts of my soul I needed back. Maybe that’s why it caused a lot of pain, I was also going through the beginning phases of my sleep disorder medication and routine. Experiencing a lot of episodes and depression. He was focused on work and whatever else. He was into tarot, which I found bizarre for someone involved in his areas to be into. I have been into it half my life. I struggled off and on validating why it meant anything to me. He believed in it. I began tarot again and I don’t do it often, it has a special place in me. I just don’t deny what I use it for or what I believe in anymore.
He would rub oil on me and enter from behind with a grace and allure I haven’t met in many. I don’t think he had been with many girls, but we had extreme chemistry.
Songs would come on both of us had an affinity to, he would think I slipped something onto his player. “No, why do you have this song? I love this song too.” Songs I had not told him I loved.
I found out from weird feelings he had two fb accounts. Under two completely different names. I got vindictive and reported one, it got reinstated though. There was always a lingering something, something not being told. He acted very different on the one account from the other. A person I did not recognize in character. I could see the public posts and he didn’t know I knew about it. I apologized a couple years later for acting crazy. Except, now I wish I hadn’t of apologized because I do think I was reacting to something weird untold. Albeit, really reacting. I’ve learned a lot since then in how someone acts and their vibes. Regardless, I don’t take back the fierce sex, the Neroche or tarot. I’ve learned from a few experiences now if I even get the feeling I need to snoop, I am just leaving.
I don’t intend to speak to him again.
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