On the Road Again

So, Mr. Stonecold and I drove 20 hours this weekend to take his kids back to their mom.

In general I love road trips. Growing up in the midwest, you either learn to love road trips, or you don't go anywhere. I love road trips. The zen of driving for long stretches with the Ipod on shuffle. The ability to allow your mind to wander for hours and hours with no guilt. Seeing the random things along the road that you've only read about in books. I love road trips.

The kids are good travelers. They got a little bit of cabin fever towards the end, but all in all they did great. I guess they have to get used to road trips too, with their parents living so far apart. But I digress.

So we get there, and get ready to drop the kids off, and they both broke down crying. I expected to see some tears, who wouldn't cry? But it was so sad I could hardly keep it together. When they finally went inside and we drove away I cried too. I don't know why. It was sad.

Mr. Stonecold was even more stolid than usual after that. I figured we'd have a pretty quiet drive home, because he wouldn't feel like talking. Much to my surprise we talked almost the whole way. We stopped at a truck stop and ate chocolate cake. We talked about stupid stuff we used to do as kids. We talked about dream houses. We talked about old injuries. We talked about other people. We talked about our families. We talked about everything.

Well, almost everything. Not once did we talk about us. And I didn't want to. I think a couple of times he intentionally left an opening in the conversation, but I changed the subject. There isn't anything to talk about.

I think he's the greatest thing since sliced bread. He likes me too. We get along famously. We didn't get on each others nerves once in 20 hours of driving. So where is this going? I don't care. I don't know if I want to know where this is going. For this stage in our lives we are compatible. I don't know what the next stage will bring.

He won't admit he needs me. He won't admit that it is me he wants to talk to when he feels bad. He won't admit that I'm the one he calls when he has something good happen. He won't admit that he gets crabby if I'm not around for a few days. He won't admit he misses me. He won't admit he gets freaked out by the thought of me moving away. He won't admit he likes making me smile. He won't admit he wants to take care of me, and protect me from all the bad shit. He won't admit he thinks about me when I'm not there. But he does. And I know it.

I don't know that I want him to admit it. I don't know that I don't. But what I do know is that he does make me smile. He does take care of me when I feel like shit. He does cheer me up when I'm feeling sad. I miss him when he's not around. And I like trying to take care of him too.

But don't confuse that with a relationship. We're not dating. (pfft)