"THE VOICE OF LOVE SEEMED TO CALL ME, BUT IT WAS A WRONG NUMBER. P.G. WODEHOUSE (15 OCTOBER 1881 14 FEBRUARY 1975) WAS AN ENGLISH WRITER OF HUMOR WHOSE BODY OF WORK INCLUDES NOVELS, COLLECTIONS OF SHORT STORIES, AND MUSICAL THEATRE."
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Dave told me that he didn't want me to move back to Montreal just yet. He said he felt I needed to accomplish what I had moved to NY to do. I wasn't really sure what that was. For years I had been searching for love and there it was right in front of me. I suspected that he was only offering because he thought it wouldn't be possible. He would be safe from actually having to live it. He came back for another visit. We ate and drank some more. One afternoon my feet were killing me from walking and I needed a rest. Instead of grabbing a cab back to the hotel, Dave made me walk the 20 blocks back.
This visit seemed different from the last. After dinner with a friend of his one night, he accused me of being argumentative and rude. I swear I still have no idea what he was referring to. His friend seemed to really like me and I was in such a food coma I had hardly spoken a word. When he left to drive back to Montreal at the end of the week he barely kissed me goodbye. I hoped it was because he was just feeling tense about the long drive ahead of him.
I had been told that people find it difficult to feel a personal connection with Dave when they are face-to-face with him. In fact, he has even been called "emotionless" and"robotic." I thought that our interaction was an exception but it felt nearly impossible for me to connect with him with the geographical distance between us. I wanted to talk on the phone. I mean REALLY TALK. But whenever I would ask Dave questions in order to feel closer to him he would say that he felt like he was being interrogated. He couldn't handle talking about the most basic things that people discuss when they are in a relationship.
I couldn't go home for a visit because my status in the US wasn't legal yet and I didn't want to take any chances by crossing the border. I told Dave I would meet him in Vermont but he said that would be boring. A romantic weekend in a Bed & Breakfast in Vermont with me would be boring? It was pissing him off that I couldn't come home yet and he told me that it was unfair because he wanted sex. It had only been like 3 weeks!
Finally my immigration status in the U.S. was legalized and I went home to Montreal to see Dave. He was still in his shithole apartment but the puppy had arrived! The three of us spent the weekend together, going for walks in the park, lying on the floor playing tug of war, and watching movies in bed. But Dave and I didn't talk about our relationship. We didn't talk about anything really and I should have known that Dave had checked out emotionally (or had never really checked in) as he had done in years past. Instead, I pretended we were a family.
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