will never be mine
while he doesn’t how to find this blog, he does lurk anonymously on my nsfw secret identity tumblr. i’m never sure if he follows everyday or some days but he definitely mentions specific tumbles. being in a long distance relationship is difficult to be sure, though when it is not a “secret” one can call, text or generally reach out to one another whenever they want. not so when it is an affair. ever. but especially during non-work hours or events. weekends, evenings after 5:30, holidays etc. ironically, as much as i long to see him, enjoy a meal with him and be able to reach out and touch his beard-the cadence of long distance works for our mutually, over-scheduled lives. I’ve posted before about his ability to compartmentalize and hyper focus with no communication for days and even weeks at a time was problematic for me. And how my ability to blend and my need for connection on a daily basis made him nervous and our first six months was a lesson in pushing through communication and giving one another space to find a way to meet in the proverbial middle. and what a long way we’ve come…
as i was restricted to limited mobility due to my surgery, i spent a good part of new years eve whiling away on line and napping. i reblogged this picture on tumblr:
i knew he was out with his bride and some friends at their local watering hole and with our time difference, the conversation i had with him earlier in the morning would be the last until we returned to work on 1/2. instead, at 10:12pm (pdt) new year’s eve i received this email…
I Wish….
I could give you that kiss from 11:59pm to 12:01
xoxo baby
” just to verbalize what you know & suspect “i love you hun”. have good night. talk soon. bye”
wait! what!?! no you don’t understand, we don’t talk about feelings, especially mine since he knows I am attached to him. emotionally and otherwise. but not once have I ever considered he was attached to me. Ever. because he has always been so upfront that he doesn’t get emotionally attached and that he could just walk away from me if his bride ever got suspicious. I admit I have hoped, I have wished and I have even suspected that he might like me. But to luv me? Well I don’t even know if I can trust what I heard. I want to. Truly I do.
*sigh* how could I refuse? It was my opportunity to sleep with him, if even for a moment. he was warm, not hot and sweaty but warm, snuggly warm, after the shower he had dried off, turned on the tv and hunkered down whilst I dried my hair. not out of vanity but practicality. I can’t get sick, and sleeping with wet hair in a cool room tends to give me a cold. There he was, dozing, and sexy as hell. Peaceful, no stress lines around his eyes, but relaxed and breathing. I giggled as I turn the tv down, low enough not to be a distraction but loud enough to ensure we don’t fall asleep completely.
Oh I was tempted, trust me. He stirred as I climbed in next to him and as if on instinct, he rolled to his left side and scooped me up into him. warm, fuzzy, snuggly. his breathing starts to slow and deepen and I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation around me and the way I fit. As if I was meant to fit just like that into him. My eyes start to flutter shut and I go to match my breathing with his when I realize that not only is his heart beat slow, steady, but his lung capacity must be incredible as I can’t match him breath for breath. I stop trying and instead, I allow myself to listen to the way he breathes, the snoring that tells me has fallen asleep, truly asleep and off I went.
Suddenly I wake, disappointed as I realized he is stirring and surprised to see that 45-minutes have flown on by. My heart is beating fast, not wanting this moment to end. This nap. As if he knows what I’m thinking, he kisses my neck as he says “shh baby, so sleepy, let’s just snuggle a bit more” and he nuzzles my neck making my nipples instantly respond and the moisture spring forward between my legs. “m’kay…” is my only response as I settle back into him and close my eyes. Willing myself not to cry from the happiness inside that confirms what I suspected, I am indeed in love with him. I want to sleep with him. Naked. Warm. Entangled. Willing myself to cry from the heartbreak of reality that he will never be mine. Not this way. Not entirely. Not unless he’s willing to acknowledge that life is messy, life is not planned and life has a way of showing us what is what in unexpected way.
And so I lay back and close my eyes for those remaining moments in which my life makes sense. if even for a moment.
eighteen months ago. who knew? eighteen months ago.
for everything that has transpired. for the way my eyes have been opened and my heart beats i am grateful. to know he will never be mine. i would still be the first one to lean up for that kiss. that. very. first. kiss.
trite as it may seem, it’s true. with heartbreak there is the obvious tax. the immediate pain or awkwardness, depending on whom broke the others heart. but there’s the residual tax. the one that comes in the middle of the night and you can’t sleep or the when all on feels is the aching loneliness for just another moment with that person.
when one is heartbroken, one feels like that could never go through it again. promise to take better care of themselves, of their heart. but inevitably it happens again.
We missed completely today. Not even a quickie so to speak. Today was a hard day, no particular reason and a million and one reasons. One of those days. And I missed him. I miss him. And I hate being this way. I hate that I miss him, ache for him, long for him, want him, need him, the way that I do.
is me is really me 