I feel very awkward about my feelings right now, both for my (reluctantly) developing sentiment toward my Friend With Benefits (FWB), and for something I learned tonight that presses a difficult emotional button.

To give a bit of recent background, late last Saturday night, following a disappointing date with Mr. 405, I signed into my online account to find an offline message from my FWB stating he would be returning home today, Wednesday. It was in that moment, seeing his words popping up before my eyes, that I realized I'd missed him, more than I should for an FWB. There are rules to being involved as an FWB, the most important, of course, is not to develop emotions for your FWB and certainly don't express them.

On Monday night, he called me though not unsolicited. I needed to ask him a question for which I knew he'd have the answer. I let it slip that I missed him. "Really?" I could actually hear him grinning through the phone. I replied yes, "Really." Then he asked me, "How much, a little or a lot?" I answered, "Maybe more than I should." He was two time zones and three states away, but I could hear it in his voice. He was still grinning as I tried to divert the conversation.

Anyway, we were supposed to go out of town together this weekend, but his unscheduled work trip out of state put it on hold, and even though I now knew he would be returning today, I knew he'd be tired from his work travels to make another trip, and frankly, I want to make this trip alone. I want the travel time which I love, and I think it will be good for me.

So that brings me to tonight. My FWB flew in late this afternoon. I refrained from calling, both so as not to be too forward, but also because I knew he'd be tired.

I had errands to run, and by the time I got home, it was 10 p.m. I turned on my computer as I always do. My FWB was online, and initiated a hello via Instant Messenger.

We chatted nonchalantly for a few minutes, when he announced he was researching the purchase of his next new toy, a motorcycle. I told him I didn't want to hear that. I caught myself and apologized. I really didn't have the right to go there.

I probably wouldn't have bristled quite so much had the recent events not happened between us. But in the instant I saw him type the words, my mind raced to that morning last October and the voice message from the Coroner's Office notifying me that Steven had been killed in a motorcycle accident. I was honest, and said it just brought up difficult memories. He simply typed, "Sorry."

From there, the conversation, what little there was left, seemed like it deteriorated. Soon, he excused himself, saying he was still tired from his flight, and had to be at work very early in the morning. Both reasons were true, but it also felt like convenient timing.

In that instance, all of the warm fuzzies I'd felt over him the past couple of days seemed painfully far away. I felt like I was fooling myself, thinking there might be something more there. At hearing his news of wanting a motorcycle, I felt the very real risk of losing him the same way I'd lost Steven, and before I'd even really won him. And then, I realized simply, that I had no right to those emotions. At least not yet. I'd not earned them. And now, it feels I may not get that chance. It feels like I've crossed some line that I wasn't supposed to cross, and maybe I can't go back.