How much is enough?

In talking to a friend of mine earlier tonight, I tried to explain to her how much I love S.  As is usually the case, it was easiest to help her understand by comparing how I feel now to how she has seen me feel before.  In this instance, I used an ex of mine.  There is a similarity between how I felt then and how I feel now: in both cases, I never felt like I was doing enough.

With my ex, this was a very bad feeling.  When I was with that person, I never felt like I did enough to please him.  No matter what I did, or how hard I tried, nothing would ever get him off my case.  That's not even close to the way that I feel now.  Now I feel like no matter what I do, I can't come close to really expressing how much I love S, or how happy I am with him.

Every day I try something else to show him the way that I feel.  I appreciate so much that I'm not feeling any pressure from him on this matter.  Honestly, I'm not even entirely sure if he understands what I'm thinking.  I believe we've only attempted to talk about it once.  At any rate, he sees and comments on how much I do around his apartment.  There are moments where he is soft with me and tells me that he is happy I'm here.  Those small moments do more for me than I think he'll ever realize.

For me, the small moments often mean more than the grand gestures.  It's because they're so natural, so organic.  There's no thoughtful planning or choreographing to make sure that it all turns out just right.  There's just the honest feelings he has, and his simple choice to tell them to me.  Some days, I think I could live off of those moments.

Happy Holidays

Christmas is just over three weeks away now.  I haven't purchased any of the gifts I'm planning to get, but I have a lot of ideas for what I'm going to give to people.  The one big difficulty I'm having is with S.  It's not that I don't have any idea of what to get him, it's that I have too many ideas of what to get him.  Shopping for him is really easy as far as options, but really hard as far as narrowing those options down.

I've thought about getting him a video game chair (I found the perfect one, I think).  Or a whiskey decanter and tumbler set.  I've also thought about a calligraphy set, or a couple of collector's editions of games that he's been wanting.  I've thought about a few books that I would just love to get for him.  On the off chance that he reads this blog, I won't list the one thing that I'm certainly going to get for him.  There are other ideas as well.  I truly wish that I could get everything for him.  Wouldn't that be nice?  I would really enjoy that--giving him nice things, bringing good new things to his life.

I also look at gifts for him as a way to show him that I know him, and I care about him.  I pay attention to what matters to him.  I remember when he says something.  Who knows if it will come across that way to him?  All I can do is hope, and plan...

Oh dear.  Now I've got that ridiculous song stuck in my head. "Wishing and hoping..." Grrr.  I'm about to go to work, and that song is going to be stuck in my head all day long!  :(  How annoying is that?

Anywho, I'm off.  Take care.

So unsure of myself

It looks like there is something on his mind.  Something troubling him, weighing on him.  I asked him about it, invited him to talk to me, but he didn't say anything.  Part of me aches that he doesn't open up to me, but for the most part I just accept that that's how it is right now.  I've only been here for a month.  Though we've been talking for over a year, this part of our relationship is still really new.  He's been through a lot, I imagine.  See, I'm not sure on that front, either, because he hasn't shared with me.

It's really hard to be there for him most of the time.  I want to be.  He can trust me, lean on me.  Whatever he needs, I'm here for him.  But can trust me and will trust me are two completely different things.  So far, he's let me in a little bit, but is still hesitant to let me in completely.  Honestly, because of our history, I'm not sure if it's because he's unsure about me, or if it's because of what he's been through.  The result is that I start to doubt myself.

Well, that's not entirely true, is it?  I usually doubt myself.  There are days where I think that I'm perfectly capable of just about anything.  I act with confidence because I am sure that I will do well.  Then there are days when I cannot imagine how I could ever be good at something.  I'm sure that I must be terrible, and I'm afraid to even try my hand at whatever I'm facing.  Really, it's not so much days as it is different tasks.

At work, I'm perfectly sure of myself.  I love my job, and I can see by the looks on the faces of my customers and co-workers that I do well at it.  On the other hand, when it comes to sex, I am completely unsure of myself.  I love making love to him.  Every time with him is so good, it blows my mind.  Afterwards, though, I always wonder if it's good for him.  I've never had the courage to ask, but I wonder.  I don't think I'm any good at it.  It's horribly embarrassing to think that, much less say it out loud.

I'm sure that if he ever told me I was good, my fears would be calmed.  I would gain confidence and maybe even get better.  The problem would be if he told me that I'm right to be unsure.  That I'm not good, or that I don't please him.  If I ever heard that from him...I think I would shut down completely.

Anyway, that's not really the point I was trying to make.

I worry about him.  When I can see something weighing in his eyes, every fiber of my being wants to help lift it from him.  To even have a hope of helping him with anything, though, he has to trust me.  So, then, that's the pivotal question:

How do I earn his trust?

So...freaking...frustrated. Growl.

This is driving me crazy.  It was just one stupid little slip in coordination.  Not a big deal.  At least, it shouldn't be.  So, why the hell am I so bent out of shape about this?

We were supposed to meet up at the gym tonight.  He goes for two hours during his shift, and I like to go because I enjoy it.  I don't have a pass to get on base, though.  To get me a pass, we were supposed to meet up at the gate first.  No big deal.  It would have taken just a couple of minutes to do.  Somebody in his unit was missing, so he only had about thirty seconds to get me a pass.  He told me to be there ASAP, so I got there ASAP.  In fact, I beat him to the gate.  Then I realized I didn't have my ID on me.  I'd taken it out of my wallet to take care of some forms for work, and hadn't put it back.  So, I raced back to the apartment to get it and straight back to the gate.  I got there just in time-to miss him by about one minute.

I got ahold of him to see if he could come back, but of course he couldn't.  This isn't just regular work where you have some flexibility.  This is the military.  He was already doing more than was strictly okay by getting me the pass tonight.  He couldn't try again, and I understand that.  It's just...frustrating.  I'm pretty pissed, to be completely honest.  Only, I'm not pissed at him.

There's no way I could be mad at him, but I know I'm taking it out on him right now.  My responses to him have been clipped and stressed.  I know he can tell, because he just offered to swing by the apartment after the gym, which I know he really shouldn't do.  I just don't want to start talking too much, because then I'll vent that I'm upset.  He doesn't need to be bothered with that nonsense.  And it is nonsense.

I'm frustrated because it's so tough to get the timing right between the two of us.  Him being in the military alone makes things difficult.  Have you ever tried to spend quality time with somebody who works all night long and sleeps all day?  And his shifts are each 12 hours long.  So, between work and sleep there's about three hours left over in the day.  That time has to take care of hygiene, eating, and getting ready for the next shift.  After all of that, there's maybe an hour left.  One hour.  Each day.  It's ridiculous.  Trying to spend quality time with somebody who only has an hour is next to impossible.  He wants to relax with me, but most of the time he's stressing about going back to work.

When he finally has a day off, he spends the majority of it sleeping, because he needs to catch up on his rest.  Then there's my job.  We don't even get to sleep next to each other any more because I work while he sleeps.  By the time I get home, I'm ready to take a bath and go to bed.  My job isn't hard, and my hours aren't long, but I do a lot and I do get tired.  So, I come home and go to bed while he gets up and goes to work.

To get any real time together, I have to be very flexible and extremely determined to make it work.  He doesn't have that option because so much of his life is so strictly regimented.  I am really the only one who can make the choices, so I do.  I stay up all night so we can text (our only real conversations any more).  I stay up after work so I can cook him dinner.  I stay up all night knowing I have to work in the morning because he at last has a night off and I'd like to have that time with him.  Things like that.

Really, it's just me being selfish.  I have physical needs, but I put them aside because I enjoy having time with him.  He told me at the beginning that as far as he's concerned, he'd like to have maybe one or two days a week to spend with me.  Other than that, he didn't expect to see me much.  It's on me that I go so long without sleeping.  It's my fault that I'm cranky as all get out because I don't get enough rest.  That's really why I'm so frustrated tonight.  I give up so much to have that time with him, and this one thing is more for me than it is for him.  I love going to the gym.  It makes me happy, and I always feel so great afterwards.  One stupid mistake, and I missed it tonight.  That on top of missing it last night because I was sleeping has put me in a severely foul mood.  Growl.

All right, enough bitching and moaning.  It's not doing anybody any good.  I'm off to take a bath and then probably to bed.  Tomorrow I have the day off, so hopefully that will help my mood.

Take care.

Too much to do, too little time

I am trying to do too much.  He can see the weight of it all on me, he says.  I have tried to shrug it off like it's nothing, but I can see the damage myself every time I look in the mirror.  Those ridiculously dark circles I had finally started to get rid of are back with a vengeance.  Stupid things.  It takes me an extra five minutes to get ready for the day, because they are so hard to cover up.  At the end of the process, they are still there.  I just barely manage to make myself look more human than raccoon.

So, it is obvious to us both that I am trying to do too much.  The problem I see is that there is nothing in my life that I want to give up or cut back on.

I have work.  I just started a week ago, and I absolutely love my job.  Working at Victoria's Secret is fun, exciting, and definitely entertaining.  I take a lot of pride in my work.  I mean, come on, helping women feel comfortable, beautiful, and sexy for their everyday lives?  That's worth getting up for!  Yesterday I helped a woman find what she said was the first bra to fit her properly and comfortably that she's ever owned.  Every woman who has ever worn an ill-fitting bra knows what torture that is.

I have school.  I have just recently been invited to join the combined Bachelor's/Master's program at Capella University online.  That will save me at least half a year, which is awesome.  Saving time and money?  That's really a great opportunity, and one I'm happy to take advantage of.  I love my classes, of course, but I'm so happy to be getting closer and closer to my degree with every course I complete.  Remember, I decided to study Psychology when I was in the 2nd grade.  So, I have been working towards this goal for the last 17 years. Wow...that's the first time I've ever written it out like that.  17 years.  Now I'm so close.  I can't stand the thought of being delayed again unless it's absolutely unavoidable.

I have domestic duties.  I love taking care of him in that way.  He's gotten so used to having to do everything on his own, I find that really sad.  After all, people are not meant to spend so much of their time alone.  Aside from that, he simply doesn't have enough time.  He works 12-hour shifts, you know.  He works so hard, and when he finally is able to come home, he needs to just eat and sleep.  On his days off, the very last thing he ought to worry about is taking out the garbage, washing the laundry, or doing the dishes.  I can do all of those things.  Yes, I work, too, but my shifts rarely last more than 7 hours.  And my work is during normal waking hours, not the middle of the night as his are.  I am good at domestic duties, I find cleaning relaxing, and I cherish the opportunity to make his life a little bit easier.  It's not something I want to give up.

And, of course, I have him.  We don't get to spend a lot of time together--he's working while I'm sleeping, he's sleeping while I'm working, and our work schedules often overlap a little bit.  Daily, I'd say we have about three hours together on the outside.  Typically our time together is spent on his days off.  Sometimes, like yesterday, we stay up all night (his day off) and then I go to work in the morning.  That is a little rough on me, but I don't want to miss out on the time with him.

Yesterday I found out that I was scheduled to have four days off in a row this week, starting today.  Four days, really?  Part of me thought that's exactly what I need.  Four days is plenty of opportunity to do all of my homework for the week, get the apartment spotless, and rest before going back to my hectic schedule.  I didn't take the time, though.  As soon as I found out about the four days off, I asked for and took on two extra shifts.  One today, and one on Friday.  I still get two days off in a row, and one of them will be on his day off.  I just don't want to lose that many hours.  Frankly, we need the money.  More than that, though, I don't want to be idle.  Once I get going on my crazy schedule, I can't stop.  As soon as I do, I lose my momentum and it's so hard to get that back.

Anyway, it's now 6 am.  I have laundry to fold and put away, and then it's off to bed for a couple of hours.  He'll be home then, and we can have our hour together before he goes to bed, and I get ready for work.  When I came home from work yesterday I was so tired.  I went to bed and ended up sleeping right through the gym.  I'm very disappointed in myself for that, and am determined to not do it again tonight.  I really enjoy going to the gym.  There are stories, of course, but that's another topic for another day.

Take care for now.

You can lean on me

I hate to see him struggling so much.  He wakes up with this heaviness in his eyes that breaks my heart.  A few moments of that sad, resigned look and I am nearly frantic with the need to make him smile.  When my attempts to get a smile, though, it never reaches those weighted eyes.  Not when he has to go to work.  Not when he's facing another week of this nightmare.

When he comes home after his 12-hour shift, he's a different person.  He's tired, of course, but he's lighter.  He smiles, even laughs.  It's like he's gone in to battle and come out victorious once again.  We talk, we play, we love, and then he goes to sleep.  The next time he wakes, the heaviness is back.  I know the cause, and I hate it as much as I understand it.

Every night that he faces another shift, he is unsure if he will make it through.  I see that uncertainty in the lines of his face, the downward turn of his lips.  The sight of it makes me want to scream.  Not at him, but at them.  Those bastards who have beaten him down and made him so, so tired.  They have stripped him of everything that he has worked so hard for.  His career has been reduced to less than nothing.  His relationships have crumbled.  Everything that he had been working so hard on has been taken away, and in such a short span of time.

A lot of days I worry whether he is at a place where he can try to build something with me.  How selfish am I for wanting to start a life with him when he is still so wounded?  When he is still facing so much, am I wrong to ask anything of him at all?  I feel like maybe I am being selfish, but I can't stop.  I love him.  I love being here with him.  And he says that he is happy I'm here.  I want to believe him, but I worry that may just be hubris on my part.  To think that I could actually be doing him some good here...

I feel like he is wasting away in front of me.  This man that I love, have loved for 10 years, he is suffering.  He's hurting, and I am sitting here writing about it.  I hate myself for this, but I don't know what I can do.  I know what he needs:  he needs to be done with this job.  He needs to transition out, and get the hell out of this city.  He needs to go somewhere new, and start over.  New job, new home, new city, new relationship.  Every day that he is here he is reminded of all that he has lost here.  Every night that he goes to work here he is slapped with the knowledge that he does not have the time to build back up what has been taken away.  It's just this horrible limbo that he cannot stop or improve.

I want to make things better for him.  I try with things like keeping the apartment cleaned, doing his laundry, cooking for him, making him laugh, telling him that he is loved and appreciated.  I try to make him smile, and laugh whenever possible.  Every day, my goal is to make his day better than it would be otherwise.  That's all I can think to do.  I just don't feel like it's enough.

When he asks for something, anything at all, I will be here to give it to him.  No matter what, I will be here.  I know it will be a while before he really asks anything of me.  After all that he's lost, it will take time for him to come to fully trust me.  To feel confident that he can rely on me to be here for him.  I will wait, though.  As long as it takes, I will wait.  He's The One.  The man that I want to spend the rest of my life with.  I have all the time in the world to show him that he can lean on me.

Where have I gone?

I am halfway through yet another letter to him when I stop myself.  What am I doing?  I see him every day now.  I can talk to him any time I have anything to say.  He's always shown me that he'll be there if I need to talk about what's going on with me.  So, why do I spend my hours alone writing to him, and not saying anything when he's here?  I don't even show him most of the letters that I write.  At this very moment, in the room that we share, inside the little storage bench which is the only piece of furniture I own, there is a stack of letters addressed to him.

I've been writing to him for weeks.  Since I've been here, I've been writing to him nearly every single night.  All of my worries about being here, being with him, all my deepest fears and concerns have shot to the forefront of my mind.  I can't seem to get away from them, no matter what I do.  It drives me crazy.  I feel guilty for writing yet another letter, but I can't stop myself from going on in it.

He's wonderful.  I want him to understand me, to know me the way that I am now.  I don't know if he would want me, though.  If he really knew all that there was to know about me, would he want me?  He doesn't seem to understand how truly amazing he is, but even so, even with the mindset that he deserves so much less than he truly does deserve, he could not possibly want me.

I suppose the real reason I fear that so much is because I know me.  I know all that there is to know about me, and I don't want me.  I am afraid of me.  Earlier tonight I finally recognized this is my writing.  I used to write all the time, and I would write from my heart.  Poetry, short stories, fiction, non-fiction.  It poured out of my pen like a waterfall of words.  A symphony on the pages of my life.  A while ago, that suddenly stopped.  Or maybe not so suddenly.  I didn't notice it for a reallly long time, so I'm not entirely sure when it started, or how.  All I know now is that I miss that part of me.

I write all the time.  I write for websites, for classes, to communicate with family and friends.  My love for writing has survived, but not the way it comes from me.  As I said, it used to pour from me.  So many times it seemed endless.  I think that I took it for granted, really.  And now it's gone.  I can't find it.  To write anything, I have to be prompted.  I write articles that fit the title my publisher requires.  I write letters in answer to friends and family's questions.  I write on topics that are given to me.  I fulfill assignments.  That's all I do.  Except when I write a letter to him.

When I write to him, I am at last able to glimpse again that passion that used to consume my pen.  I can feel my heart open, and feel all the things that are bursting to come out of me.  So...why do I only write them in letters?  Why don't I talk to him?  He's always let me know that he's there for me.  He's always been patient and kind and understanding when I have talked to him.  Or, if I have to write these letters, why don't I ever show them to him?

Before I'm finished thinking the sentence, I know the answer.  It's because I am afraid of what is in my heart now.  With everything that I've lived through in the last few years, I know I must have changed.  You cannot spend so much of your time just trying to survive and not come out of it different than you were before.  I am afraid of how I've changed.  I'm afraid of what I may have lost.

I am ashamed of myself for hiding.

Do we want the same things?

All day today I have found myself anxious and distracted.  When we first started talking about me coming out here to stay, it was with the clear understanding that this part of our relationship is completely new.  We can't make big plans for the future just yet.  We need to try and take things slow, to see how they naturally develop.  At this point, it's been so long since we have spent any real amount of time together that we can't even be sure that we're a good match any more.  Of course, we both want to be, but there's no way of really knowing until we try to live together.  It's a big test, and it could blow up spectacularly in our faces.

The thing is, after less than a week of being here, after just two weeks of seeing him nearly every day, I'm done for.  There is no doubt in my mind that he is the one that I want.  He is The One.  He thinks that I should be bored here with him, but I am not even close to bored.  How to I explain to him just how much I love this everyday life?  That I get to sleep next to him each night is such a treat.  Cooking dinner for him in the evening is such a treat.  All those silly little everyday things are exactly what I've always wanted with him.

Right now we are both in transition in our lives.  I'm working on my degree, and still working small-time jobs for income.  He is about two months away from being discharged from the Air Force, and then he plans to go back to school.  Neither one of us is firmly established in our careers yet.  We're still working on our plans for our lives.  The thing is, now we can do those things together.  The more time I spend with him, the more certain I am that sharing this journey with him is exactly what I want.  I want so much to be there to support and encourage him as he transitions out and works on his degree.  I want to be there to see all that he does, and see what he becomes.

I love him.  I love how easy it is to be with him.  The only thing I ever have a hard time talking to him about is when I wonder if we are on the same page.  Does he want the same things with me now?  I've been trying to take things slow, but the way I feel is what it is.  I know better than to try and change how I feel.  More than that, I don't want to change this.  I have never been this happy in my life.  I have never felt more content.  Everything with him feels just right.

The question that is burning on the back of my tongue is, "Do you feel the same way?"  Having me here even just this short amount of time, are you certain that this is right for you?  Am I the one for you?  I want to know, but I don't want to ask.  I know that the right thing would be to let whatever this is progress naturally, but how can we do that?  After all, our love started ten years ago.  Nothing of how we came to be together like this has followed the typical progression of a relationship.  To my knowledge, this is completely uncharted territory.  Add to that, what works for one person may not work for another.

I am anxious.  I am full of befuddled thoughts.  I do not know what to do next.  All I can think is that I love him, I am happy with him, and I hope that he feels the same way that I do.

Bath Time!

Waking up next to him is still a treat.  One that I hope I never ever get used to.  Feeling the light hit my face, waking up all warm and snuggly next to my love.  What a perfect way to start the day!  Of course, as soon as I'm awake, I have to promptly jump out of bed.  If I don't, I cannot stop myself from trailing my fingers down his jaw, and resting my cheek against his chest.  As enjoyable as these things are, they usually wake him up before he's ready to be up.  Since I don't want to disturb his rest, I gently slide out of bed and start my day.

By the time Mr. Sleepy Head gets up, I have done a good bit of writing, watched a movie, and started cooking breakfast.  I try to time my cooking so that it's all ready just as he's ready to eat--not as soon as he gets up.  Really, who eats the moment they crawl out of bed?  I stifle a giggle when I see the Swamp Creature's long-lost brother stumble out of the bedroom and flop onto the couch.  I wonder if he realizes how my heart races as soon as I see him?

Our day is delightfully normal.  Grocery shopping, a little TV.  I decided to cook him a homemade meal--one of my specialties--to thank him for asking me to move in with him, and to show him that I love him.  Chicken breast, homemade mashed potatoes (note to self: get him a potato masher! I really like to make mashed potatoes from scratch, and he doesn't have one), and asparagus.  Frozen yogurt for dessert.  The meal takes me over an hour to prepare and serve, but I love every minute of it.  It seems that everything I get to do for him is a joy.  And seeing him devour the meal I made like he hadn't eaten in a week was definitely a pleasure.

After dinner, he announces that he's going to go take a bath.  Before he goes, though, he makes a wise crack about me.

"Oh ho, you think so, huh?"  I say, jumping up and heading to the bathroom.  I start filling the tub knowing full well that he thinks it's for him.  Not this time!  Little snot wants to make wise cracks about me, I'm going to steal his bath. hehehe  :)

Of course, I can't hide anything from him.  He figured out what I was up to, and decided he was fine with me taking his bath.  In fact, he helped me get in...clothes and all!  I don't think I was able to catch my breath for a full 10 minutes after that.  He didn't help matters, either, what with resisting when I pulled him in after me.  He tried to keep himself out of the tub by grabbing on to the shower curtain, which pulled the rod down on top of our heads.  I lost sight of him under the curtain for a little while and had to dig him out.  No easy task when you're laughing yourself silly!

Somewhere between pulling off my soaking wet jeans and helping him put the shower curtain back up, I realize that moments like these are why I'm so completely in love with him.  He is not a spontaneous person, or this silly, he doesn't even laugh that often.  But he does with me.  When he is with me, I feel his walls come down, and I see him come alive.  In these things, I see the reflection of exactly what he does for me.  He is my match, and I love him so.

Sometimes, you just gotta laugh

Of all the things to remember today by, the least likely is what really stands out for me.

We woke up pretty early for us this morning.  The plan for today was a tour of a local brewery, which turned out to be a lot of fun.  The tour itself was interesting and lasted about an hour.  Afterwards, we got to go to the brewery's bar and sample some of their different beers.  We both tried the Honey Wheat, which was pretty good.  Then we each tried three different kinds of beer--for a total of six brews.  He was doing just fine, but I ended up getting pretty tipsy.  Not great considering I'd decided to wear my absolutely great, but very high 5-inch boots.

After a couple of hours in the bar, he let me get my picture taken with a Clydesdale.  I was so happy with that!  I really love horses, and Clydesdales are such gentle giants.  This one's name was Jackson, and he was really friendly.  I was slightly surprised by that, considering he'd been standing out to let people take their picture with him for about two hours, and most of them were little kids that tried to crawl all over him.  He was a real sweetheart, though.  I'm happy that S let me take my picture with him.

When we left the brewery I was still awfully tipsy, so we decided to go check in to our hotel room.  I'd figured that our day trip would leave us slightly inebriated (or at least one of us), so I made reservations at a little place in town.  We checked in and hung out for a little bit.  We were feeling pretty restless, though.  Typically people can't go straight from something fun and exciting to sitting still without some kind of in between.  So, we went to check out the old district in town.  It was a great little place!

After about five hours of walking around in those fabulous boots of mine I was ready to kick them off.  I didn't bring any other shoes with me, though, so I had to buy a pair (oh darn!).  I love shoes.  S helped me pick out the cutest pair of flat heeled boots, and I felt so much more comfortable.  One slight problem:  the flat-heeled boots weren't exactly flat.  They had the tiniest heel on them that was completely foreign to me.  I have never had shoes like that before, so I didn't really know how to walk in them.  They look like flats, where you can step and land heel first, but they have a heel, so you should really treat them like a stiletto.  This is important in just a minute.

We did a little more shopping and looking around, then decided to get something to eat.  What we found was the most delightful little English-style pub.  I have to say, that pub had the single greatest menu I have ever seen.  S and I looked at it for a good twenty minutes, and had such a hard time picking what we wanted to have.  Everything sounded so good!  That was a very pleasant surprise for each of us.

It was back to the hotel after dinner for an evening of goofy movies (including Dumb and Dumber and Mars Attacks!), and great conversation.  I have to say, it was a truly wonderful day.  So, what do you think is the part that stood out to me the most?  Honestly?  It was when we were walking to our table in the pub.

Those new little booties that I got were really cute and very comfortable.  Their only draw back was that little heel I mentioned earlier.  I wasn't used to it yet, and this became spectacularly evident as I tried to walk to our table.  Notice that I said "tried"?  Well, the floor in that pub is very clean (good for them!), and consequently, very slick.  I stepped heel-first on to that floor and found zero purchase.  One second I'm happily walking with the man that I love to enjoy a good dinner, the next my foot is flying up over my head and I'm certain that deer-in-the-headlights look stuck on my face.

Fortunately, there was a little raised area with a banister, which I was able to grasp on to in order to prevent landing firmly on my butt (I have a lot of practice almost falling).  Part of my brain was screaming at me that I should be horribly embarrassed.  After all, there I was, dressed up for a nice date, walking with my guy to have a nice dinner.  And I go and flail about trying not to fall down.  I'm sure it caused a little bit of a scene, considering this was right in the middle of about three tables of people.  The thing is, I wasn't embarrassed at all.  If anything, I was really proud of myself for not actually falling!

You see, it doesn't matter how serious the situation was setting up to be.  Sometimes, you just have to laugh at yourself.

So much for co-piloting

Bowling seemed like such a good idea at first.  I mean, what better way to enjoy a nice evening together?  Neither one of us is any earthly good at bowling, so we'd definitely have some laughs.  Plus, it's a great way to be out in public, in the noise and bustle of society, while still getting to do something just ourselves.  So, that was the plan.  We'd head off to the local bowling alley and play a few games.

The problem is, he likes to drive his car.  I will readily admit that his car is much nicer than my own, but mine is perfectly serviceable.  So, he insists on driving.  Now, that leaves me to act as co-pilot.  This means it is my responsibility to navigate us to the bowling alley.  Did I mention that I have been here for less than one week?  And the majority of that week has been spent indoors?  I am completely unfamiliar with this area, so really I'm just guessing at which way to go.  Thanks to this, it takes us roughly an hour to meander over to the alley which is less than fifteen minutes from his apartment.  :)  Oops!

Of course, once we get to the bowling alley we discover that leagues are going on, and we cannot play tonight.  So, back to the apartment.  On the way back he does not need any assistance with navigation, and this leaves me with an opportunity to ponder.

I wonder if I am an adequate partner to him.  After all, navigation is something that he has been trained to do, and something that he finds to be extremely simple.  If I cannot manage this, how stupid must I appear to him?  Regardless of the fact that I am brand new here, I should be able to keep up with him.  A good partner would be an asset to him.  I wonder if I could possibly say that about myself at this point?  I wonder if he would say that about me?

On the drive back to his place, I go over what I could possibly bring to his life.  Love, of course.  He has 100% of my heart.  Devotion.  He is the only one I want.  Laughter.  I am a silly individual, and I like to play and have fun.  Generally he is a more serious person, so I think that laughter is a good thing to bring to him.  Intelligent conversation.  He can talk to me about pretty much anything and I am able to keep up with him.  I occasionally bring up interesting conversations myself.  I say occasionally because I typically keep my thoughts to myself.  I'm...introverted.

The thing is, I know that I can bring some great things to his life.  What I don't know is if those things are important or even relevant to him.  What good are my assets if they mean absolutely nothing to him?  I want to ask him what things are important to him.  I want to ask him if I bring anything good to his life.  I just don't know if now is the right time, or how to go about it.  And so, all these thoughts stay inside my head on the quick, quiet journey back to his apartment.  Once inside, I put the thoughts to rest, and we pick out a movie to watch.

So...what did he say?

Women, as a general rule, do not like to admit their insecurities.  Even though they become glaringly obvious to anybody who spends any real time with us, it's hard to admit them openly.  One of our biggest insecurities is wanting to have the approval of others, but never being really sure if we get it or not.

Earlier tonight, we went out to a local bar to meet up with one of his friends.  All the way there, I could feel my stomach knotting up with worry.  Will the friend approve of me?  Will he think my guy and I are a good match?  What's more, how will my guy introduce me to his friend?  To this point, we have avoided titles altogether.  I wasn't entirely sure what I was hoping for, which made it that much more confusing.

When we got to the bar, we found a little table at the back and ordered a couple of beers.  Locally made, they were really good.  Honestly, I've never been much of a beer drinker, but when I'm with him it feels right.  I love how so many things feel right with him.  It's been amazing getting to spend this time with him.  I'm halfway lost to my musings when I see his arm go up to let his friend know where we are.  My heart starts racing, wondering how the rest of this night will go.

As it turned out, I didn't need to be worried at all.  When his friend got to our table he said, "J, this is my girlfriend..."  Wow.  Girlfriend.  We'd never officially talked about it, so I wasn't sure where he was at with titles. I have to admit, girlfriend sits very well with me.  Our history complicates things somewhat.  We've known each other for ten years, loved each other for nearly as long, and stayed in touch as our lives took very separate paths.  Somehow, "girlfriend" and "boyfriend" aren't exactly serious enough to reflect how we truly feel about each other.  Still, for how new this part of our relationship together is, the titles are just right.

The rest of the evening went really well.  The guys talked about work, video games, and some of the people they knew.  Occasionally J would turn to me and ask me a question about us.

"So, how did you two meet?" J asked.

After a quick almost-shy glance at my guy I answered.

"Middle School."

The look on J's face was great!  Stunned surprise, a questioning look like he was wondering if we were joking.

"We've known each other for about ten years," I explain.

After taking a couple of moments to recover, J asked me what I was doing out here.  Did I come just to see S?

"Actually, I came out to hunt buffalo, and thought since I was in the area, I'd drop in and see how he's doing."

The guys both laugh, and I hear S say, "Good answer."

The conversation moves on again, going nowhere in particular.  We take our time, enjoying the company and the fantastic burgers we each ordered.  When the guys get off on video games again, I let my mind drift a little inward.  I'm enjoying the lively atmosphere of the bar, and I'm supremely aware of the feel of S at my side.  I try not to look at him too often, not wanting to be obvious about how much I want him.  Suddenly, I'm aware that J is talking to me again.

"So, what's your plan now?"

I know he's asking if I'm planning to stay here with S and make a go of it, or if my trip is just that--a single trip.  I can feel S's eyes on me, waiting for my answer, and I know that I have to be careful.  Of course, in my own mind I'm thinking, "If he'll have me, I'll be coming back very soon.  Coming back to stay."  Out loud, I say:

"Just hang out, have some fun.  See how much he'll let me get away with."

"I'm guessing that's a lot!" J laughs.  I see S turning a little red out of the corner of my eye.  I hope that J is right.

The rest of the night went as well as this.  We laughed, joked, ate, and drank.  Before I knew it, we were saying goodbye and heading home.  On the way back to his apartment, I asked S what J thought of me.  It's as close as I can get right now to admitting openly that I want the people in his life to think that I'm good for him.  I can feel myself blushing, and silently thank the darkness for covering up my embarrassment.  I hate that I asked, but now that I have, I desperately want to know the answer.

"He liked you all right," is S's immediate answer.  He probably won't tell me anything else, I think.  Unless I ask another question, and I'm not sure if I...

"Did he say anything?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

S goes quiet and still for a moment, thinking.

"Not really," he starts to say.  Then he corrects himself.

"Well, he did say one thing."

I hold my breath, assuming whatever J had to say would be bad.  I can't understand why S likes me, so why on Earth would J?

"Oh?  What did he say?"

"He said he was glad I finally found the perfect woman for me," S says.

There is absolutely no point in pretending I wasn't hoping for something like this.  I can't stop myself from grinning ear to ear as I settle back in to my seat and take S's hand in my own.  S squeezes my hand, and I see a small smile play across his lips.  Something tells me he knew I was hoping J would approve of me.  Now that I have that approval, I suddenly realize that it's not that important.  It's really nice, it's true, but what makes me happiest of all is being with my man.  Getting to hold his hand like this, getting to see him every day.  He's amazing, and I love him with all of my heart.

Questions, questions, questions

He is so cute sometimes.  He thinks that he's as eager for me to get to him as I am.  :)  Of course, I'm sure that he's not nearly as excited as me.  Why would  he be?  I'm waiting for him, and all he's waiting for is me.  Even as I write this, I can hear him in my head telling me not to doubt myself so much.  This must be a huge frustration for most men:  why don't women just trust themselves more? 

Men are so straight-forward.  If they are unhappy with you, you will know it.  Sure, they may not just come right out and tell you that they're not happy--they aren't stupid, you know!--but you'll know.  Men are not good at hiding what they're really feeling.  So long as you pay attention to him, pay attention to his demeanor and his moods, you should be able to tell if he's happy or not.

The thing is, I can't see my man.  Actually, I can't even really call him mine, can I?  After all, he's made no promises to me.  We're not technically dating.  He's just this guy that I've loved for 10 years, and can't imagine spending the rest of my life without...*sigh*  I am hopeless, aren't I?  Anyway, I can't see him.  I don't spend time with him every day.  All we have at the moment is text messages, a few e-mails, and the occasional phone call.  How am I supposed to discern anything from that?  And how in the world am I supposed to figure out what it is that keeps him coming back to me when I cannot offer him anything real right now?

He's been talking about moving to where I am.  Not for me, of course.  Well, he's not moving for me, but he might be moving here for me.  To be near me.  To give us a fighting chance at having a real life together.  I'm absolutely blown away that he would do that.  I mean...that's huge, you know?  He could pick up and start over anywhere in the world, and he's choosing to come to me.  At least, he's thinking about it.  How is it that I mean that much to him?  What do I do that keeps him coming back?  I want to know, so I make damn sure I keep doing it!

I suppose, at the end of the day, what I really want to know is that he is happy with me.  Even if I don't know exactly why (though I would really, really prefer to know), the important thing to me is that he be happy.  And you know, it may sound arrogant, but I think that he is happy.  He's not a stupid person.  He knows what he wants, and he's never been afraid to be direct about going after it.  A move here is certainly direct!  I may not understand why he feels this way about me, but I do know that the feeling is absolutely mutual.  Instead of questioning it at every turn, I think I'll just start enjoying it!

Daydreaming

The sunlight streams in my dining room window and catches on the copper tones in my auburn hair.  I smile at my new hair color.  It's lovely, I think, and fitting for me.  Though it's red, it's not obnoxiously red.  No fire engines will confuse my hair for their long-lost cousin.  :)  No, the color I went for has a quiet vibrance.  Fitting, as that is how my love makes me feel.  Quietly vibrant.  Full of life and happiness for the first time since the last time.  I'm sweeping the floor, only paying partial attention to my chore.  Most of my mind is lost in thought of him.  If I stay lost in my thoughts long enough, it almost feels like he's just at work and will be coming home soon.  Of course, that's not true.  He's not in my city.  He's not even in my state.  Rather, he's halfway across the country, living a life completely separate from mine.

It's so easy for me to picture our lives together.  Possibly it's because I've been doing it for so long, but I honestly think that we belong together.  It is so easy to be with him, to consider myself his.  Nothing is forced when I'm with him.  I don't feel the need to constantly be doing something, going somewhere, putting on a show for the benefit of others.  I'm...relaxed.  Content.  Comfortable.  Being with him is as natural and peaceful as being in nature for me.  I feel like I belong with him.  I wonder if he considers me in the long-term?

Though I do my level best to control my thoughts, I cannot help but glance at my left hand and wonder what it would be like to see his ring there.  Before I can stop myself, I'm swept up in a vision of him coming through the front door of our home, sneaking up behind me.  Suddenly his arms are around me and his laughter fills the room at how the surprise has made me jump halfway out of my skin.  I laugh with him, giving him a playful swat.  He takes my broom in one hand and my hand in the other, leading me out of the kitchen to the living room.  Pulling me down on to the couch next to him, he holds me and we are just still for a while.

I lean my back against his chest, my head turned so I can hear his heart beat slow and steady.  He rests his cheek on my hair, trailing the fingers of his right hand up and down my arm, our left hands twined together so our rings glint gently in the evening light.  My eyes close against the utter perfection of the moment.  It's difficult to imagine life getting any better than this.  Behind me I feel his breathing become ragged and his heartbeat quicken.  His fingers trace their path up my arm, but instead of trailing back down to my wrist, they continue.  Across my collar bone, up my neck, to gently tilt my head up.  For the briefest moment before his lips cover mine, I meet his eyes.  The depth of love I see there overwhelms me.  I close my eyes and give in to the moment...

I have to shake my head a little to clear my vision.  It's so damn easy to think of myself with him.  So easy to feel his touch, his lips on mine, because I've felt it before.  It's a struggle, on the other hand, to make myself wait here patiently.  Only five more days, I tell myself for what must be the fiftieth time today.  Five more days and he'll be greeting me in the airport.  Five more days.  Surely I can last that long?  I consider what I must get through in the next five days and suddenly I worry about what shape I'll be in when I finally get to him.  Sighing, I force that thought out of my mind.  We'll deal with that if we come to it, I tell myself.  For now, let's just sweep the floor and try to be patient.  As I concentrate, my sweeping becomes a little more aggressive than is absolutely necessary.

Enjoy Yourself

Today is the last of the double-digit days counting down to my trip.  How cool is that?  It's actually kind of hard to believe how close the trip is now...I've been waiting for over a month to go and see him, since I started planning this trip at the beginning of September.  Just 10 more days.  It's almost close enough where I can start packing!  lol  Yes, I am one of those people who starts packing for a trip about a week in advance.  But, come on, can you really blame me?  This is the most highly anticipated trip I've ever taken in my life!

I'll admit, for the first month I was waiting, this trip didn't seem entirely real.  Just another one of those dreams I've had over and over throughout the years without him.  But it IS real.  :)  I'm really going to go and see him next week!  AHHHHH!  hehehe

I'm just about ready to make the trip, too.  I have all of my stuff planned out, and am waiting until next week to actually get packed up.  So, now is the time to just relax and enjoy myself.  I'll be there very soon!

In Sickness and In Health

Okay, I'll admit it.  I'm sick.  I don't know what is wrong, or how to fix it.  I know that it hurts, that it's scary, and that it could be really, really bad.  I also know that whatever this is, it's not going to stop me from going to see the man that I love.

When I was very little, I was diagnosed with cancer.  After years of fighting with only a 30% chance of survival, I was finally declared in remission.  What I was told at that time is that I had less than a 1% chance of ever relapsing, so I shouldn't worry about it.  And for a long time I didn't.  Until I started getting the bruises again.

A few weeks ago, I realized that I'd suddenly gotten a large bruise on my side from bumping in to the door frame.  "Well, that's unusual,"  I'd thought at the time.  I didn't think I'd hit the doorway that hard.  Shrugging it off as another accident (I'm rather prone, you see), I put it out of my mind and went about my business.  The next morning, I woke up with another bruise.  The day after that, I developed a large bruise on my arm from holding my son in his car seat.  That evening I took a nap on the couch and awoke with yet another bruise on my hip.  For me, that was the last straw.  A bruise from sleeping on the couch for half an hour?  There is something seriously wrong here.

Now I'm waiting to find out if I've relapsed or if I've developed some other blood disorder.  In the meanwhile, my love is worried that maybe I should call off my trip.  After all, if I'm too sick to lift my head off the pillow (as I have been a few times), surely I'm too sick to get on a plane and fly all day?  But I'm not.  I have been looking forward to this trip for so long, I'm not going to give up on it just because I may be really ill.  The fact is, I don't know what's wrong yet.  I'll get in to see a doctor before I fly out, though, and I still have 11 days to figure out a way to make my symptoms easier to deal with.

That's the thing, you know?  When you really want something, when you really love someone, you will find a way to make things work.  I've loved this man for 10 years.  In all our time of knowing each other, there have been times where I let him down.  Where I was supposed to be there and I wasn't.  It's because of those times that I failed that we lost so much time together.  It's because of those times that I'm trying to start over with him again.  I won't let that happen any more.  As long as I can be there, I will be.

Although this sounds like a desperate need to make up for past mistakes (and that does play a small role, I'll admit), that's not why I'm so determined to go.  It's been WAY too long since I got to spend any real time with him.  I miss him terribly, and want to see him.  So, unless my doctor tells me that I'm absolutely not allowed to fly, I'll be seeing him in 11 days.  And that's all there is to that!

Distance=Awkward Conversations

You cannot always be talking to the one that you love.  The logical part of my brain is absolutely assured of that, and tries to tell the rest of me--my heart in particular--that it is all right if we spend some time in silence.  In all honesty, though, I struggle with it.  When we go for a day or so without talking, I feel lonely and sad.  I miss him very much.  Throughout my days, I see things I would love to comment to him on, and do things I think he would find funny.  It seems like second nature to me to share what happens in my days with him, and it seems like fighting the natural course of things to be met with silence.

I wonder how much different things would be if we were really together, and saw each other every day.  Wouldn't that be grand?  The silence would no longer bother me, I'm sure.  There would be no more pressure to fill the silence with conversation after conversation.  So much of how we've always been has been in silence, in each other's company.  I can get far more comfort from laying my head on his shoulder and resting my eyes than I can from hours of conversation.  He can see my understanding far better in my eyes than he can in hundreds of text messages.

I like to read, he likes to play video games.  How great would it be for us to be able to spend time together enjoying our pleasurable hobbies?  As it is, we really can't.  After all, it's very difficult to carry on a conversation when you're beating a level or reaching the climax of the story.

We are less than two weeks away from my visit to him.  As each day passes, I get more and more excited.  I'll be there soon!

How Close He Is...

Sweet and warm and strong
Soft gold shimmering 'round me
The essence of you

I'd asked him if he could write a haiku about honey.  Since I'd asked him, I thought I should make one of my own.  It was years ago now that I'd first asked him to write a haiku.  The one he came up with was cute, and I still have it saved.  :)  I love the things he writes.  He has such a distinctive personality that seeps in to everything that he does.  It's almost as if he's coated with a shimmery powder, and everything he touches gets a little of him rubbed off on to it.  I wince as I think of the way I've told him a half-truth in asking for the haiku.  From the way that I phrased it, I'm sure he thinks I mean milk and honey type of honey.  Really, I mean the sweet nickname given from one partner to another.  I asked him because I can't stop thinking about how much I want him to call me "Honey."  I wonder if he ever will?

We've talked so much lately.  I feel closer to him than ever before, though I'm honestly not sure how that is possible.  We talk like true friends.  We are able to joke and tease, argue and debate, and go through all the conversations we need to from the happiest to the most painful.  One of our light-hearted conversations was about his predilection to use the phrase "One step at a time."  :)  I told him that he should have it tattooed on to him, he uses it so much.  I was only mildly surprised when he said that he thinks I'm right.  After all, he's wanted a tattoo for a long time, he just wasn't sure what he wanted.  This seems like a good idea.  I admit readily that it sounds well-suited for him.

Then he adds something that catches me completely off guard.

"And I'm going to have a chain.  I'll add a link every time I get divorced."

My heart stops.  I've completely forgotten how to breathe somehow.  Though a moment before this my mind had been racing through a dozen different things I want to talk to him about, now my mind has been wiped clean.  Empty save for the instant replay of his last words.  Every time he gets divorced?  That tells me so many things.

First, he plans to marry again.  I always knew that he would, because he wants a family, but I wasn't sure if he would be able to think about it so soon.  He puts all of himself in to the paths that he chooses.  He does nothing halfway, and so I have a slight understanding of what this past year has cost him.  I thought he would need more time.

Second is more of a moment of self-awareness than a revelation.  My heart screams, my mind is frozen in longing for a long moment.  Every particle of my being knows with 100% certainty that if he chose me, if he married me, there would be no more divorces for him.  If I were ever lucky enough to have him as my husband, I would not let him go.  It's what I truly want in my secret heart.

To be his completely is my greatest desire.  Sometimes, I am so sure he knows that.  After all, how could he not know when it's so often on my mind?  When I talk to him, when I see him, I know without any doubt that he is the one I want.  Has always been the one that I want.  My mind shouts for him to be with me.  I wonder he doesn't jump at the noise every time we talk.  Other times, I am confident that I have successfully hidden away this secret desire of mine for now.  Hopefully there will come a time when he will ask me.  If he does, I want it to be right.  I want it to come from him alone, and not from me.  I want to know that he wants me the way that I want him.  As sure as I am that he is the only one for me, he is my other half, I am also sure that this is not the right time for that step.  We need to take things slowly.  As he loves to remind me, "One step at a time."

I wonder if that step is close, though.  In a couple of weeks I will find out if I'm really sick again or not.  Though I'm trying my best to stay positive and refuse to resign myself to being so ill before I know what's actually going on, I can't help but let my mind wander down that path every once in a while.  The one thing I'm absolutely certain of is that, if I'm that sick again, I want to be his.  Before the disease wastes me away to a mere shell of a human, I want to be his.  Would he give me that?  Though I would want it, and though he would be tempted (as I think he would be), I don't think that he would give in.  Knowing him as I do, I feel sure that he would refuse to marry me until I was well again.  He wouldn't allow it to look like he was marrying me as my last request.

As I write this now, my heart is melting.  No matter what my situation is, sick or healthy, young or old, I love him completely.  He is the one that I want.  He has been since I was 13 years old.  :)  I would truly be the luckiest woman in the world to one day be able to look down and see his ring on my finger, and feel his name leave my lips every day.  I see the life that we could have together so clearly, it already feels real to me most of the time.  I want that life!  I want him.  I think of him with longing, desperate to know if he wants me the same way.  Will we have that life together?

I can feel my thoughts starting to get out of control, and seek to reign myself in.  The solution comes to mind in a flash, and the mantra abruptly calms me.

One step at a time.

First we will get through the last 13 days until I take my trip to see him.

One step at a time.

Next we will see how that visit goes.  See if we want things to continue moving forward.

One step at a time.

These two things are enough to keep us busy.  We do not need to get ahead of ourselves any more than we already do in our private thoughts.  I take a deep breath, and feel some of the urgency to be with him leave me.  One step at a time.  I smile ruefully as I curse him for dominating my life with his mantra.  He is absolutely right and I know it.  I love him for it, really.  But he is so smug knowing that he is right.  :)  It's all right.  I'll get him back eventually.

Terms of Endearment

It was a very long time ago that I first noticed how he never uses names.  Only in formal occasions has he used them, and at those times, the words rolled off his tongue uncomfortably.  I didn't know if he noticed, if he was consciously aware of this, but I have attuned myself to him.  I try to notice everything.

The thought of him not using titles, names, or any terms of endearment has me thinking.  Surely he must?  Doesn't everybody do it?  I myself use terms of endearment often.  Everybody I know has been called "hun" by me.  He has several pet names. "Dear." "Love." "Handsome."  And of course there are ones that nobody hears but him.  In my own heart I call him mine, though I've never voiced this to him.  Much as I struggle with it, I am bound and determined to respect his need to take things slowly.  At least on the outside.  My heart is years ahead of time already...

When I say that he doesn't use titles or names, I mean regularly.  Every once in a while he does.  He said my name this week.  His soft whisper voicing my name sent thrills of love through me.  I will always remember our conversation for the way it ended.

"What do you think of pet names?  And I mean pet names like 'Sweetheart,' and 'Baby.' Not 'Rufus' or 'Spot.'"

He'd laughed at that.  He always laughs at my little similies.  Sometimes I come up with ridiculous ones just to hear that laugh.  Those moments when he sounds carefree and young.  :)  Knowing I brought him a moment just by being silly makes me want to be silly that much more often.

As happens so often, he has no real opinion on my utterly random question.  He asks, instead, why you would give an animal the nickname "Rufus."  I affect indignation at this.

"Rufus is a great name for a dog!  And a dog is a pet.  Therefore, it is a pet name."  I stick my tongue out at him, even though I know he can't see me over the phone.  For a brief moment, I wonder if he knows exactly what I'm doing.  His low chuckle makes me certain.

"Ah huh. Sure."  He emphasizes the last word, as he always does.  How many patterns he has!  So many times I am able to predict his response before he gives it.  I smile a small, private smile as I think of how that confounds him.  He is not used to being predictable.  I don't think that he is to anybody but me.  Hm...I wonder if it is bad of me to be glad that I'm the only one?  It's not that I don't want him to be known and loved by the people in his life.  It's that I don't want any competition.  The one edge that I have over the other women he might meet is that I know him so well.  Well, that and the fact that I know I love him like no one else in the world will ever be able to.

We move on to other topics, keeping the conversation light and happy.  I wonder that he can't hear the jubilance in my voice every time I talk with him.  Jubilance and utter frustration.  When I hear his voice, every single fiber of my being wants to be next to him.  I miss him so fiercely, especially at night.  I think of him alone in his bed, me alone in mind, and I grit my teeth at the insanity of it.  Why shouldn't we be next to each other at this moment?  A small voice at the back of my mind tries to remind me that we will be in just two short weeks, but the voice is drowned out by the thought of those two weeks.  Damn time and its absolute insistance that it keep us apart, then race by when we finally are together.  What have I done that time has chosen to be such a thief in my life?

I realize that my half of the conversation is dragging with me lost in my thoughts like this.  I force myself back to the present with one final fleeting desire:  I want him to call me "Honey."

A Trip and a Fall

It has been a little over three weeks since he left me standing in that parking lot.  I recall vividly how we both knew that he had to leave, that he'd already stayed much longer than he was supposed to, but neither of us were willing yet to part.  This trend has held true for me throughout every one of our ten years together.  Once I have him with me I do not want to let him go.  He says he feels the same about me.  I close my eyes and hear him say those words again, "You are impossibly difficult to leave."  He must love me.

Aside from his brief visit to me a few weeks ago, the last time that we saw each other was approximately 14 months prior.  The visit before that was another three years prior.  The thought of going another year or more without seeing him is too horrible.  So, I am planning a trip to go and see him.  In another three weeks' time, I'll be hopping on a flight to be with him.  And this trip will be no mere three days, split between home, chores, child care, and each other.  No!  My trip is going to be 9 full days of just us.  I cannot think of anything that would be more pleasant...except for maybe not having an end to our time together.  I think about that often.  I won't lie and say I don't dream of that future together, but I do realize that we are not there yet.  I can want anything I want, but I should not allow my thoughts to get out of hand.

This trip that I am taking has overtaken me completely.  Every day has at least an hour dedicated to the planning, the purchasing, of various necessities.  I shop endlessly for the perfect clothes, and have even ordered a custom jacket.  I've never had anything custom made before.  You see, I know in my heart of hearts that this trip is a test for us.  If all goes well, we may very well be together.  If not...I will lose him.  Probably forever.  I want so much to be with him, for this to all work out for us.

Lord, make the next 23 days fly by!

A True Partner

I find myself falling more and more in love with him the more we talk.  He worries about the distance between us, the time that has slipped through our fingers, but I don't.  The fact that so much time and distance lies between us only makes me more strongly aware of how special the way I feel about him is.  After so many years, I love him dearly.  Though he is many miles away, I feel closer to him than I do anyone else.  I smile when I think about how he cautions me that he is not as great as I think he is.

I wonder why he can't see what I see?  He is truly amazing.  A more dedicated man I have never met.  He is funny, charming, and intelligent beyond words.  When he gets on to a topic of interest to him, his entire countenance becomes quite animated.  I find the way his eyes light up, how his speech quickens, and he can't stop grinning to be irresistible.  He is entirely too cute!

The only thing I am not sure of with him is whether he would choose me.  Whether he will.  Every time he says something sweet, something that hints at what he feels for me, he takes my breath away.  Most days I do not dare to hope for anything more than what we have already had.  In these times, love is so often unrequited or even disingenuous.  How extraordinary would it be to discover that this love I feel is not unrequited, but returned in equal force?  The thought alone is indescribably joyous.

Every so often I allow myself to think of a future with him.  Every time that I do, the images are the same.  I cannot think of us having anything less than a full life together.  I would live with him, marry him, spend the rest of my life with him if he wanted that with me.  I hope fervently that he does.  I simply cannot imagine casually dating this man I love, not with the way he makes me feel.

When I lay next to him, everything is right in the world.  I can look at all the obstacles I face without fear, without hesitation.  I rest my head on his chest, feel the gentle inhale and exhale of his breathing, listen to the soft beating of his heart, and I know that there is no place in the world I would ever rather be.

The Things He Does to Me...

Tonight I'm having a small night cap, and with every drink I find myself dreaming about him more.  He is so sexy.  So exciting.  Sip.  I remember every one of our encounters together.  The way his kisses make my heart pound.  The feel of his hands running up my leg, over my hip, and across my belly.  Nobody touches me like he does.  Nobody ever could.  Sip. When he touches my skin, he touches my heart.  I wonder if he knows that?  Sip.

When I first met him, he was a scrawny little 13-year-old boy.  His hair was too long and so cute in its disarray.  Nearly every one of his shirts looked exactly like the others--they all had the same design to them.  He had the most distinctive shuffle.  Sip.  Shoulders a little hunched from all the time at his computer, he always does a little hop before he starts walking.  If he were only a silhouette, I would always know it was him.  He is that special to me.

Now, he's certainly changed in looks.  He has grown, and filled out.  My gosh is he sexy!  Sip.  His hands are strong and sure where they were once hesitant.  His lips find all the most sensitive and excitable places of my flesh.  He is incredible.  Sip.  Everything that I dreamed of him being all those years we were apart.

The most amazing thing to me is what the thought of him does to me.  He makes me so excited, makes me feel so sexy, just thinking about the way he touches me drives me wild.  I long to be closer to him so I can show him how sexy I think he is.  I want to make him feel as turned on as he makes me feel.  The thought of getting him this worked up...I actually enjoy that more than being turned on myself.  How strange is that?  :)

I finish my nightcap and head off to bed, certain my dreams will be good.

My Inspiration

When I think about him, I suddenly find myself wanting to make my life better in every way.  The happiness he brings to my day gives me such energy, such drive to get things accomplished.  I love the way I feel like I can take on the world, I can reach any goal.  Just from spending a little time with him.  I think it's that knowing he's there, always just on the other end of the phone, I know it's okay if things don't work out for me.  I can be turned down for a job, or find a new dent on my car, and it's really no big deal.

He doesn't know, but he's my inspiration.  He's the reason I write again.  The reason I bound out of bed in the morning, eager to start on the day.  He makes me so happy, just thinking about him brings the biggest smile to my face.  I doubt he realizes how much he means to me.  How could he?  I still haven't managed to tell him all the things that I feel.  He's just...wonderful.  :)  He's wonderful, and I love him.

In a moment of silence...

When I look in to his eyes, I find myself wishing that he knew how much I love him.  That I've loved him for more than a decade.  He takes my hand, and I absolutely melt.  There is no room for stress or sorrow as long as he's with me.  When he tries to leave, though...I just know I'll fall apart.

We sat across the table from each other, thoroughly enjoying our delicious Indian dinner of Lamb Saag and Lamb Vindaloo-laughing that we each chose the same protein-and for a while nothing is said.  So much of the time we don't have to say a word to each other.  From the beginning, we've been able to read each other's eyes.  I look at him, knowing that he loves me though he hasn't said it.  The softness I see in his eyes is fascinating.  I'm drawn to him, to continue looking at him.  I can see it making him nervous, and I find that adorable.

"You're so quiet," he says.

I know I am.  There are a thousand thoughts running through my head, none of which know how to come off my lips.  I gaze at him a long moment, basking in how much I love this man.  I cherish every moment with him.  How do I tell him these things?  You'd think it would be easy, but it's really not.  Just looking at him, I get completely tongue-tied.  All I want is to run to his arms, lay my head against his chest, and stay there forever.  I want to call him my own, and know that I am his.

How do I tell him that when he smiles at me, I feel young and carefree again?  That his smile is what prompted me to take his hand after so many years, and run with him to the carnival ride, laughing like a little girl?  How do I tell him that joy to me is running my fingers through his hair, or that contentment is laying in his arms after making sweet, passionate love?

I realize that I've been gazing at him for several minutes in silence, smiling uncontrollably, and I giggle.  I don't know how to tell him what I'm thinking.  I don't know if I ever will.  But I think he can tell by my smile that I love him and I'm so happy he's here.