But, I remember his sisters were coming to town to visit for a few days, and they decided to check out the Bronx Zoo. And I was invited to come along. I hadn't met anyone in his family, nor he anyone in mine, so this was a big deal for me. One of those nerve-racking big deals. But I tried to remain calm, and not think too much about how boring I'd be, and unimpressed they'd be with me, and tried to focus more on how much I love the zoo, and it was a beautiful June day. I got to his apartment, and the sisters had just gone out to get bagels and coffee, so we had a few minutes alone. A few smooches, a little playfulness, and I could tell he seemed a bit nervous, too. They came back to the apartment, introductions went well, and we were soon off on to the subway for the ride from Queens, through Manhattan, up to the Bronx. It turned out to be a great day. They were both really nice women, actually closer to my age than his, and the day progressed such that the 4 of us spent much of it in alternating pairs - me and him, me and sister #1, me and sister #2, and back and forth. The zoo was rather crowded, but I know my way around enough, and found the more out-or-the way spots, and we were exhausted by the end of the day.
We went back to his place, and they were going to leave in only an hour or two, driving back up to Boston. I left, giving them some time together, but planned on meeting the boyfriend later. Home alone, I was high as a kite - they seemed to really like me, I was amazed (and relieved) at how much I dug each of them, and it just seemed like a "big step" in the relationship, you know, getting to know the family. When we had dinner, he seemed a bit out of sorts, but I didn't take it personally, as he'd been working long hours, and it was a long day of being on our feet. We even had a stupid argument over something, and it wasn't like us to argue. Still, I brushed it aside. We didn't spend the night together, he had an early day, and needed to get home. He called Friday, and we made plans to get together Saturday evening. It wasn't my kind of "date" - roaming around the West Village and having a beer at this bar, then that one, but it was the day before the Gay Pride March (Parade) so I figured, what the heck. Still a bit distant, he seemed pre-occupied, but he wasn't much of a talker, and I wasn't in the mood for forcing someone to open up, I prefer the old "I'm here when you need me" kinda thing.
That night we spent together, at my place, but he passed out without taking his clothes off. At one point in the night, I tried taking his shorts off, and he woke up, all grumpy. I tried to explain that his belt was digging at me, but he just turned and faced the wall, hugging the wall basically, as far away in the bed from me as possible. Obviously, not a good sign. I was worried, quite worried at this point, and didn't sleep much at all. He managed a good sleep, lots of snoring, but still way over on the other end of the bed, and other than that night, we always slept together, some sort of interlocking body thing going on, often my head on his shoulder, arms around each other.
And he slept late. Very late, hangover, the whole thing as I tiptoed around my own apartment. And then the talk. A fairly brief talk, with little explanation and just short of the old "it's not you its me" thing. I did my usual, trying to console him since he was obviously troubled. Then when he was clearly not into talking about it, I got angry, and tried finding every bit of his clothing in my apartment to give to him. This pissed him off, he seemed to think he could get that stuff another time, as if dumping me was merely a change in the type of relationship, not an actual end to it. I yelled, he got mad, I apologized, and then got very quiet, as it started to really sink in. I was fairly immobile at that point, and he exited, with the bag of t-shirts, boxers and socks I shoved at him.
By this time it was mid-afternoon, and all my friends were out, Sunday afternoon of Gay Pride Day. So I had to spend those first few hours crying alone, before I found someone to cry in front of. Ugh. I hate June.