Am I missing the clues? Am I just not picking up on the signals he’s throwing out? A few months ago, he told me he still loved me, but that he didn’t know if he wants me physically anymore. Since then, we haven’t touched. Not just sex, though not that either — I mean the little touches, hand-holding, heads on shoulder, hugs. I told him I’d give him all the time he needed to figure things out, but I’m going through withdrawal — he’s almost the only person in my life who has permission to give those little touches, and it’s not happening. There have been too many times when I’ve felt uncomfortable with others pushing touching on me, so I’m not going to do it to him; I’m giving him some space, not forcing the issue. He’s settled into normality like that conversation never happened, like nothing has changed. We hang out together, we continue to sleep in the same bed (albeit with empty space between), even call each other boy-/girlfriend in the company of others.

We’ve had five years together — not all good times, but mostly so, and they’ve been the best years of our (short) respective lives. I’m afraid. I met him right out of high school and we made it through my time away at college while he was at home, made it through the move to our apartment when school was over two years later, made it through various illnesses and difficulties, and I don’t want to be the one to say, “Is this over?” But it feels more and more like it might be, like it’s time to say we’re best friends and roommates, not lovers. I love him, but I need more and he’s not willing.

Do I wait it out, give him the time and space to decide what he wants? Or do I ask him directly and live with the consequences I don’t really want? There are, of course, less esoteric matters having to do with leases and money and jobs, but that will all fall into place as required — they have a small bearing, but not enough to mention.

Thanks for any help you can share,
Almost Resigned, Definitely Scared

Everything seems to be going well, except for the following. He refuses to get rid of certain (nine or ten) naked/compromising/pornographic pictures he owns of the summer girlfriend, citing nostalgia with such excuses as, “But I want to keep them. They’re just like regular photographs: to remember someone by,” which I counter with, “No, they were taken for patently sexual interpersonal purposes at the time, and if you are truly over her (as you claim) and truly love me (as you also claim) then you will throw them out, because you are a careless fool, given to leaving offensive things lying about, and while I can endure the occasional cheesy ‘men’s’ magazine, some other naked chick is NOT COOL, mister.”

Am I being an over-controlling freak by asking him to throw them away, or what? They’ve got me me really, really sad/angry/uncomfortable/mystified, in part because I can’t fathom any other purpose for their existence other than masturbation fodder. As it is a real person we both know, I can’t deal, and I am freaking out hardcore.

Thanks and love,
Photo-chapped