Unflung fling

For me, blogging about a relationship is akin to confirming it's end, but I'm ok with that as this relationship has been more than frustrating. It's my would-be summer fling that has never managed to fly.
Last summer I returned to the US fat and determined to lose weight. I began working with a trainer three days a week and by the time I returned to London had lost 20lbs. When he weighed me the final time and I saw how much weight I'd lost, my trainer allowed me to give him a sweaty, celebratory hug. It was our first, non-exercise based contact. From that point onwards are greetings were filled with hugs. All the while, I secretly wished for more.
My trainer is hot. He's my age, in great shape, hot, smart, funny. Did I say hot? He's also in the midst of a divorce and has three kids. The latter makes him very bad long term relationship material. The former makes him perfect summer fling material. In the summer of 2008, there was no fling to be had. Despite spending most of my free time with him late into the evening and even falling asleep at his house, nothing happened between us. He called me everyday. He took me out to lunch, cooked me dinner. Still nothing.
Fall and winter 2008/2009 saw my return to the US several times. Each time I'd call and let him know I was in town. We'd hang out, work out, eat, talk on the phone. Then I'd go back to the UK blissful from the time I spent with him. We talked about getting him a passport so that he could come visit and he became my Facebook friend so that we could keep in touch easily.
When I returned to the US in summer 2009, I reached out to him. We planned to get together for dinner the day before I went to LA, but by dinner time neither of us were hungry. He suggested drinks at his place instead. I agreed, but was surprised by the offer as I' d not known him to drink. We chatted and vegged on the couch watching Michael Jackson coverage for a while. Then he cracked open the bottle of wine and we went out to his balcony, which overlooked the pool, to drink. We listened to classic MJ tunes on his ipod. These turned into MJ's ballads and love songs, these turned into neo-soul ballads and love songs. In my mind, moonlight, love songs, and wine equal sexy time. No? Since I'd not known him to be interested in sexy time with me, I attempted to make my escape.
It was after midnight and I had a 6am flight to LA. I thanked him for the wine and started to go. He protested under the premise that I'd had half a bottle of wine and was unfit to drive. I told him I had to go because I hadn't packed. He said, "I can't let you drive." Then he offered to set an alarm and let me stay at his place for a few hours. I refused. He offered his bed, but I refused adding that it was unfair of me to kick him out of his bed when I'd only be there for a short time. I said I'd take the couch if I stayed. He insisted I stay. I relented, not wanting to be the crazed drunk driver that kills someone after refusing to give up her keys. However, I refused to take his bed. He suggested we share the bed. I agreed with him (secret fantasy come true?). He set an alarm for me. I got in bed and started to doze. He put his PJs on, brushed his teeth, had a poo and I don't know what else. It seemed like ages that I was in bed alone before he finally emerged from the bathroom. Then he got into bed with me. We went to sleep. Nothing happened. The alarm went off at 3am and I lingered in bed hoping he'd make his move. There was no move. I got up at 3:15am. He let me out and waved goodbye.
I dashed home and packed, then headed for the airport. I sent him a text to let him know I made it to LA and thanked him again for letting me crash. He responded in kind a few minutes later.
He called on 4th of July to invite me to a BBQ, but I was still in LA. I told him my flight didn't get in until late and he offered to come pick me up from the airport. I refused citing the raucous nature of the holiday and told him to relax, have a few drinks and enjoy. I added that my mom would come get me, or I'd take a cab. He offered to pay for the Super Shuttle, but I refused telling him that I could afford my own cab. I assured him that we'd see each other the next day. I texted late that night when I landed to see if he was up for a night cap. No response.
We had no communication the next day. I texted on Monday and invited him to a movie. No response. We played phone tag on Tuesday and finally spoke late that evening. We played phone tag on Wednesday and made tentative plans to see a concert together on Sunday. We have no tickets, nor have we spoken since.
I'm exhausted by this back and forth with him! Does he like me? Does he not like me? I can't tell. We've had conversations about his relationships with other women and he's expressed that he's still wounded from his failed marriage thus not trustworthy enough to enter into a new relationship. He also claims to be so selfish at this point that he cannot attempt to please anyone else. (He's got that one right! I am not pleased!) So why, you ask, do I want anything to happen between me and this obviously flawed man?
Because I'm flawed too. We all are. He's not my prince charming, white knight in shining armour. And we won't fall madly in love, get married and live happily ever after with out 2.5 children, house with white picket fence and dog. But we can go for a walk in the park and hold hands; chat over lunch; cook one another dinner; do yoga; go to concerts; sing along with the radio in the car; play Uno; shop for vegan food; sweat up the sheets; and drink wine by the pool while listening to neo-soul love songs. And that would make a great summer fling!