Whiplash - Chapter Seven - Trust

We hadn’t talked much in the couple of weeks between visits. It was strange, considering we usually talk almost every day. I always thought that if it didn’t work out between us, it would just slowly fizzle out and eventually the talking would stop. But he was still there—lurking in the shadows, watching my socials, chatting a little… but not a lot.

He’d just started a new job, working almost six days a week, and when I saw him, it was obvious he was exhausted. Maybe that was the reason for the lack of conversation. It’s happened before—when he’s working flat out for 10 or 12 days in a row, he’ll bust his ass at work and I won’t hear from him until he comes up for air.

But the week leading up to my visit, he was sweet and chatty. He actually seemed excited to see me again. It was a nice change from the dodgy crap he pulled last time I was there, like hiding me out at his house, afraid someone would see us together. This time, though, it was different. He invited me out with them again, some familiar faces and some new ones. Still introducing me to people, even though he “only wants casual.”

When I asked what time I should arrive on Saturday—so I didn’t rock up before he got home from work—he told me to come whenever. Said he’d leave the key out so I could let myself in and chill out until he finished. “Take a nap,” he said, “it’s a long drive.” I joked that he probably didn’t want me running around his house while he wasn’t there, and he said, “Nah, I trust you.”

And that? That’s a big thing for him. He’s told me more than once that there are very few people in his life that he truly trusts. So for him to say that to me? It felt huge. But then I got there… and boom, walls up. He was guarded all weekend. We still had a great time, but I wish he wouldn’t shut down like that. I know it’s a defence mechanism—but the second his walls go up, mine do too. And we end up in this stupid, endless loop.

That said… maybe things are shifting? It was a good weekend, but also weird.

We went out for dinner, and this time it felt like everyone knew I was coming. I wasn’t the surprise guest or the awkward “oh” moment, I was included. It felt good. The girls hit me with the usual, “I thought you weren’t coming back. He said you weren’t coming back.” Then they said they are over his crap and want him to make a decision about me, they like me, and want it to work out and they don’t think there are any other girls.

We went bowling, we drank, we laughed, it was great. His best mate laid it on thick when he was drunk, and I’m a little worried I acted like a dickhead and pissed him off. But he didn’t say anything, so… I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know is becoming my fucking catch cry at this point.

He did say on Sunday night that they’re just giving me shit and not to take it personally—they don’t really mean it. His mates said the same thing on Saturday too. So maybe they’re just mucking around.Maybe.I don’t know.For fuck’s sake.

On Sunday, he asked if I was going home or staying the night. He’d already asked me to stay, but then acted like he didn’t care either way. I don’t know if he was shutting down again or what, but I stayed.

We didn’t do much. He did his washing, we went food shopping, and had lunch with Luke and Anne-Marie. And during lunch, I had this weird thought: Am I the girlfriend?

Have I become his casual girlfriend? Like… I’m there when he wants me, but he still gets to do whatever he wants? Have I made myself casually available to be his girlfriend when it suits him?

I want girlfriend status. And I’m happy to take it slow and wait for him to be ready but I hate that he’s sleeping with other people. I hate it.

And as much as the girls say he’s not, unless I hear it from him directly, I’ll always wonder.

I honestly don’t think he likes the idea of me with someone else. I had a random bruise show up on my ass over the weekend and he asked who I’d been fucking to get a bruise like that. I told him no one. Said he was the last person I slept with. I think the man really needs to sit down and ask himself why the idea of me being with someone else bothers him so much.