Attachment

"I could never be with someone who was more attached to me than I am to them," Ava says to me with a sleepy voice. "Maybe you should put that on your blog and see their response."  

We are lying back to back on the bed. It is late in the evening. The doorwall is open, and cool, humid air from outside drifts over us.

"I've never admitted that to anyone," she continues. 

"Now, I know your secret. I just need to shower you with affection," I say jokingly before admitting our arrangement could not be more perfect, except maybe the amount of time I get to see her. 

"I'm still rooting for him," she said to me earlier. Him being her boyfriend. Ava also said she was going to make him break up with her. I told her that was unlikely to happen. No matter how many arguments they are having. Ava alluded to being nervous about what he might do to himself if she broke up with him.

I can see that. Ava tells me some concerning stories. More than once, he has taken her keys and begged her not to go when she says she is going to see her mother. Ava has learned to start the process three hours in advance to remain on schedule. Experience tells me he probably has a gut instinct that something isn't right.

"Something tells me you would be more upset if our arrangement ended than if you broke up with him," I say to her. "Breaking up with him would give you an excuse to say, see, I tried it (a relationship), and it didn't work."

Rather than argue with me, she agrees. Ava makes the comment that the last fifty days have been stressful. "Only one thing has changed in the last fifty days," I tell her.

Yes, I am hoping she will break up with the guy. I have a vested interest, but I am not telling her what to do. She is capable of making up her own mind. I sat here thinking about what to say next. I decided not to justify actions or blame anyone. It is a mess. Relationships often are. I've been on the short end of the stick before, and it is not fun. It is something I have vowed not to be again.

Maybe Ava is right. Never love someone more than they love you. That emotion is locked away somewhere inside me. I miss it, but I also fear its unbidden return.

Ava puts on a pair of low-waisted yoga pants, a black bralette, and a marron lacy full-length cover in the morning. She looks incredibly sexy in the outfit. It is something she would not have worn six months ago but a pleasant change.

Ava couldn't have sex that night but willingly went down on me. She left without taking any money. Ava would have left a shirt and her bra in the downstairs bathroom if I hadn't reminded her. Ava wants to get together next Friday. The logistics of getting together on a Friday night will be challenging for her to pull off. It is a bold choice.

"One of these days, you are going to get caught," I tell her.

"I know," she tells me. "but I have created a happy space at (her friend's place). It wouldn't take much for me to put it back together."