As my boyfriend…
(yes, it is official now – we are both crazy)
…and I finalized our date plans for the evening, I asked him if he would be willing to rub lotion on my very sunburned back.
After the double feature and tasty dinner, we headed back to his place to catch up. This also included me stripping off my top layers, all the way down to bare (and inflamed) skin and laying belly down on his bed.
“Wow. You are really burned,” he said.
I stifled a sardonic chuckle as the ice-cold lotion dribbled onto my upper back – the area most tender from a recent trip to the beach.
(To my defense, I applied 70+ SPF lotion…twice.)
He tenderly and very carefully rubbed the lotion into my skin. I let out a deep sigh of relief.
“You okay,” he asked.
“Yea. That feels great. This is the first time I’ve been able to get lotion onto that area since the burn. It already feels so much better. Thank you. I might have to teach the kid how to do this tomorrow so that I can keep it from being so painful.”
I didn’t answer.
What did he expect? That I had concocted some weird angle in order to finagle a rub-me-down on my own upper back and shoulder blades?! Or maybe…
He though that I had asked the ex to rub lotion on my back as I laid bare breasted on his bed.
I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want to know.
The thing is, it has crossed my mind to ask the ex. I am in a lot of pain and it would have been helpful to get the area moisturized from the get-go. But I don’t want him touching me.
We’re already closer than I had ever imaged to be after the divorce. I don’t want to have any more reasons to close the gap. Don’t worry – it’s not in fear that my heart will change and that I’ll go running back into his arms. It’s in the reality that I can’t handle men I don’t respect touching me.
It whiffs of something dead or decaying – it literally turns my stomach and puts me on edge.
Poor guy. It’s not like he’s gross or anything like that…well, never mind. There is still the outstanding issue that he hasn’t been able to flush the master bathroom toilet for 18 months and still hasn’t deemed it important enough to call the plumber.
Maybe I’m being silly, but I’d rather suffer the sunburn than get any closer.