lessons in running away

Jules called en route to Coeur d’Alene. He’s on his way to visit Boonie for the weekend. But confided that his main reason isn’t the visit -- it’s avoidance. Jules has managed to consume another woman and is allowing the repercussions to include leaving the state. Ri-fucking-diculous. Apparently, this one, who I’m fairly confident doesn’t even have a name, didn’t quite understand that sex with Jules didn’t mean he’d fallen in love with her. [He might not even like you all that much.] And she’s not taking the residual nope-I-just-wanted-to-have-sex-with-you-jules very well. I don’t blame her. The way he behaves, sometimes, makes me sick to my stomach. I told him he needed to get his terms straight with these women beforehand. But he’s heard the speech before. He knows how disappointed these affairs make me. Most of the reason for this call centers around his need for absolution. As if telling me about it will make the world right again. I advised him to wear a warning label at all times that says something about his corporeal madness. He laughs. I don’t.

We exchange accusations and expletives.

He only sleeps with all of these women to keep them at a safe distance, because he’s terrified of actually loving someone.

I’m comfortable staying some place I shouldn’t be, because I’m afraid of being vulnerable.

Looks like we’ve both got terms to get straight: Lust. Love. Security.

But I didn’t offer that information. I asked him to leave me out of it. Reminded him that this was his phone call and that he should probably get back on the road. He promised to call me later. I lied and said that I would probably be out.

If you call, I said. I’m not going to answer the phone. I don’t feel much like talking.
Decide that then,he sighed. Because I am going to call.

I told him to drive safely and to tell Boon that I said hey.
He said I love you before I had the chance to hang up the line.