I had arranged to have Monday off work and told The Toolman a few weeks in advance so he would have the opportunity to take the day off and spend it with me if he wanted to.
He considered it when I told him and said he would see what he could do.
I hadn’t heard anything from him about it so as the weekend approached I sent him a message and asked if he would like to go away for the Sunday night with me. I pictured us driving into the countryside, pulling over occasionally to fuck in the bushes of course, having a romantic dinner together before staying the night in a hotel. We would enjoy breakfast in bed the next day, fuck some more and then drive home while my legs still functioned.
We had both been having a difficult time at our respective jobs and a night away to just focus on each other and have some fun sounded blissful to me.
The Toolman didn’t respond to my suggestion and after a while I started to get annoyed. If you don’t want to come Buddy, just fucking say so.
I had to drive to a meeting an hour away so called him from the car.
The Toolman was working outside in the cold and wet and he sounded miserable. He told me he felt like he was coming down with something and had been too busy to give my suggestion any serious thought. I was fed up of him not being excited by the idea of spending time with me and our conversation turned very deep and serious, very quickly.
The Toolman tried to change the subject by discussing our options on the swingers website but as he spoke I realised something.
The swingers and threesome fantasies were his escape.
Whether anything happened or not, by focussing on the fantasies he had, he didn’t have to face the reality of his relationship with me or the grim problems in his life. I didn’t understand how he could invest so much time in browsing the website and sending messages, when he needed a new job, a new home and to give me some long-requested time.
In that moment, as the penny dropped, it became clear to me. Thinking about sex was his way of not dealing with his life. And I told him so.
“Maybe you are right. So much is fucked up in my life. I don’t know what I want. You are so special to me but sometimes I think about having kids. Sometimes I think I should be looking for a girl in her thirties to have babies with, before it is too late.”
Are you fucking kidding me? I almost laughed. If he thought he could persuade a thirty-something woman to have his child by only spending a few hours a week with her (which is all he could spare for me), he was out of his mind. He would need to invest time and effort he clearly didn’t have for me; go on dates, find a girl, have some fucking sleepovers (!!), show her he was responsible and dependable, provide a home for them, impregnate her and then be there for her and the kid for the remainder of his life.
I was hurt. The Toolman wasn’t stupid. He has friends with kids so he knows what is required of a good father.
Suddenly it was clear. I wasn’t going to satisfy that yearning in his life, and if he really wanted kids he would only grow to resent me if I stood in his way. Our time was coming to an end and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
We ended the call and I started to think about what I should do next. I didn’t want to lose him but it was now obvious I wasn’t the woman he wanted.
Little did I know the next steps I took would lead to disaster.
I may have over corrected 