because… reasons
Lately I feel fairly secure about our relationship, and I don't really know why. I feel like he has… 'settled down' or something, like something in him that was a flighty-bird energy has just… relaxed onto its perch or something. Either that or I'm getting better at accepting his non-verbal cues in lieu of him actually saying "I love you".
Poor guy is actually really sick today and I'm at the office working alone. It's nice to have solitude I guess, but… I actually miss him. That's ridiculous, I mean… we're together all the fucking time. All. The. Time.
I never thought independent ol' me would be okay with this. But he seems to expect and want that closeness so… I defer to him in that. Also, we're poor, and working hard, and saving every penny so driving to the office together, cooking/eating at home together, etc. saves money.
And you'd think we get sick of each other (I feel like he *should* be sick of me sometimes), but then he reaches out for my hand and I'm like, "awwh…" *melt*
Which could be seen as so... 'puppy-love high school crush' and all, but… you know, neither of us are that young anymore. Neither of us are unscarred by life, by broken relationships; we've each had our share of pain and depression. Both of us are sarcastic, and jaded, and we know there aren't any guaranteed happy endings. We can't afford many luxuries or false comforts anymore. We don't have time for bullshit anymore.
So that somehow makes it all the more sweet, that he wants to reach for me. That he lets me lay my head on his chest while we fall asleep, even though I'm sure my heavy skull digs into his shoulder bones and probably makes his arm get a charlie horse every night, and my hair probably gets annoyingly velcroed into his beard hairs and tickles his neck or nose or both, and sometimes we're just uncomfortably hot when pressed together… but he pulls me in tight like he wants me there… almost like he needs the reassurance of my presence.
I need the reassurance of his presence too, constantly. I don't know why. Sometimes he's *right**there* and I get this sudden rush of fear that he is going to disappear before my eyes, a fleeting dream fading out of my empty arms, because he's just too good- well he isn't, he's bad and good like any human, he's… not perfect and never will be, but to me… he's so beautiful, he's just unreal sometimes, with his soft curly hair, and his beautiful eyes, and his mischievous smile, and his warm, welcoming body, and his brilliant mind, and his struggling soul, and I don't ever get to have such nice things, it's like… defying the laws of nature somehow, that he's in my life at all. That there is a living precious human being breathing in my space, and here I was half-dead after my divorce, all set to become a sexless frumpy old maid / crazy cat lady- but even though he's rescued me from that for the time being I know some day, life (or death) will separate us. So it always ends in tears no matter what. You know? But for now… for now… it's good. It's those times that I squeeze him a little harder, and inhale his scent a little deeper, and shut my eyes and listen to the beating of his heart in his chest and tell myself, he's real, he's here, he could be a million other places but he's not, okay? He's here. With you. Relax. Relax and enjoy this now, because Life is short and these years will go fast even if they're happy.
But if he had to go…
…I would have to let him go. Because we're free people, and it would break my heart to force him to stay and watch his lights dim, even more than it would break my heart to watch him live happy & bright without me.
But I hope he stays. And I hope he keeps me with him.
I feel weak without him. I feel much stronger when he's around. And more relaxed. I know it's sort of an illusion… I was strong on my own, before him. I can take care of myself. But… it's more fun, with someone else.
So yes, I hope he stays and keeps holding my hand till we're bent and old and wrinkly and drinking espresso in a cafe in some banana republic where we've retired to live on a hut near the beach with our synths and our sketchbooks…. or you know. Whatever odd place life takes us to by then. We might be old and wrinkly and holding hands in a hospital. If we're lucky enough to make it to being elderly, and still have medical care at that age. As much as I hate hospitals I do recognize medical care as a luxury to some socioeconomic classes.
But you know what I mean.
I didn't come here to write about this. I came here to write about naughty thoughts, dammit.
But I just spooled off that path somewhere… Thoughts of him always do this to me, they start off one place and then I feel like I'm on a sailboat on an ocean with tides taking me to unexpected islands...
Poor guy is actually really sick today and I'm at the office working alone. It's nice to have solitude I guess, but… I actually miss him. That's ridiculous, I mean… we're together all the fucking time. All. The. Time.
I never thought independent ol' me would be okay with this. But he seems to expect and want that closeness so… I defer to him in that. Also, we're poor, and working hard, and saving every penny so driving to the office together, cooking/eating at home together, etc. saves money.
And you'd think we get sick of each other (I feel like he *should* be sick of me sometimes), but then he reaches out for my hand and I'm like, "awwh…" *melt*
Which could be seen as so... 'puppy-love high school crush' and all, but… you know, neither of us are that young anymore. Neither of us are unscarred by life, by broken relationships; we've each had our share of pain and depression. Both of us are sarcastic, and jaded, and we know there aren't any guaranteed happy endings. We can't afford many luxuries or false comforts anymore. We don't have time for bullshit anymore.
So that somehow makes it all the more sweet, that he wants to reach for me. That he lets me lay my head on his chest while we fall asleep, even though I'm sure my heavy skull digs into his shoulder bones and probably makes his arm get a charlie horse every night, and my hair probably gets annoyingly velcroed into his beard hairs and tickles his neck or nose or both, and sometimes we're just uncomfortably hot when pressed together… but he pulls me in tight like he wants me there… almost like he needs the reassurance of my presence.
I need the reassurance of his presence too, constantly. I don't know why. Sometimes he's *right**there* and I get this sudden rush of fear that he is going to disappear before my eyes, a fleeting dream fading out of my empty arms, because he's just too good- well he isn't, he's bad and good like any human, he's… not perfect and never will be, but to me… he's so beautiful, he's just unreal sometimes, with his soft curly hair, and his beautiful eyes, and his mischievous smile, and his warm, welcoming body, and his brilliant mind, and his struggling soul, and I don't ever get to have such nice things, it's like… defying the laws of nature somehow, that he's in my life at all. That there is a living precious human being breathing in my space, and here I was half-dead after my divorce, all set to become a sexless frumpy old maid / crazy cat lady- but even though he's rescued me from that for the time being I know some day, life (or death) will separate us. So it always ends in tears no matter what. You know? But for now… for now… it's good. It's those times that I squeeze him a little harder, and inhale his scent a little deeper, and shut my eyes and listen to the beating of his heart in his chest and tell myself, he's real, he's here, he could be a million other places but he's not, okay? He's here. With you. Relax. Relax and enjoy this now, because Life is short and these years will go fast even if they're happy.
But if he had to go…
…I would have to let him go. Because we're free people, and it would break my heart to force him to stay and watch his lights dim, even more than it would break my heart to watch him live happy & bright without me.
But I hope he stays. And I hope he keeps me with him.
I feel weak without him. I feel much stronger when he's around. And more relaxed. I know it's sort of an illusion… I was strong on my own, before him. I can take care of myself. But… it's more fun, with someone else.
So yes, I hope he stays and keeps holding my hand till we're bent and old and wrinkly and drinking espresso in a cafe in some banana republic where we've retired to live on a hut near the beach with our synths and our sketchbooks…. or you know. Whatever odd place life takes us to by then. We might be old and wrinkly and holding hands in a hospital. If we're lucky enough to make it to being elderly, and still have medical care at that age. As much as I hate hospitals I do recognize medical care as a luxury to some socioeconomic classes.
But you know what I mean.
I didn't come here to write about this. I came here to write about naughty thoughts, dammit.
But I just spooled off that path somewhere… Thoughts of him always do this to me, they start off one place and then I feel like I'm on a sailboat on an ocean with tides taking me to unexpected islands...