The Morning After

The hurry up and wait is killing me.

So, originally George was supposed to be gone a month ago. Now, if all the paperwork goes through he will be leaving around the middle of December. The constant yo-yo of "I'm leavin...wait not yet" is really driving me nuts. But the worst thing is that we've lost our solitude.

Thinking he was going to be leaving the end of October, he gave up the lease on his apartment November 1st. Since then he's been staying with a friend who has been nice enough to let him crash on the couch. For various reasons, my house is not an option. The primary problem with this...aside from the fact that he's crabby all the time because his life is all akimbo, is that we have no place to...well...yeah.

So, after an almost three week celibacy run he arranged some alone time for the two of us last night. It was Amazing. It was wonderful. It was terrific. I could come up with more adjectives but I'm sure that communicates the idea just fine.

But, what I take away from last night isn't the Amazing. The Amazing is always Amazing. What I take away is how wonderful he is. How kind and sensitive and caring he is. How he arranged for the alone time in the first place. How he held my hand. How he focused on me and my sensations until I had no choice but to focus on them as well. How he held me when it was over. That is what I take away with me.

Since it has been a while, I forgot how emotionally vulnerable I feel after a really good romp. How I need to be held and told I'm special. I dozed off in his arms for a while while we were watching TV. At one point I rolled over and told him I loved him. He grunted back. After that I couldn't sleep again. I waited for him to fall asleep and I left.

There is no doubt in my mind he cares for me. There is no doubt in my mind that I am special to him. Through every touch, every word, every action, he communicates how he feels - without ever actually saying the words. But a grunt has the ability to throw me into a tailspin of self doubt and second guessing. It gets me thinking about the last time he actually said it, and whether he still feels it, and whether he has second thoughts, and whether he has someone else, and whether I'm still the woman he wants, and whether I'm the only one who is going to be shattered when he leaves, and whether I'm making a complete ass out of myself.

I know it's just fear. I know it's unfounded, unrealistic, insecurity. Maybe.

I was thinking about it on the drive home last night. For over a year I had to ignore the actions that I perceived to betray his emotions. For over a year he told me he didn't love me, couldn't love me and never would love me. For over a year he explained away the actions that told me otherwise. Now, I suppose I am supposed to rely on the actions - that he has told me don't mean anything - to tell me that he really does care. I know that if we had time I would learn to trust those actions. I know that if we had time I would gain the confidence necessary to let my insecurities go and not need to hear it as often. But the one thing we don't have left is time.