After all of the beauty of my 44 hour visit to my lovah,
coming home was a
First off, the trip was beautiful and I was mostly very happy. Al was perfect and beautiful and touched me to the core with his words and kisses. BUT, I went there because he had to work (he had been out all last week with his kids for Spring Break), so out of 44 hours, he spent about 13 at work. THEN, we sleep and rest when we are wrapped up together. It is a weird phenomenon BUT neither of us sleep great when we are apart. I take a Xanax and sometimes Tylenol PM and still toss and turn. In addition, we have this weird energy that I would never believe if I didn’t experience it, but if he wakes up there, I wake up here. Every damn time. I will wake up in the middle of the night, realize I am alert, look at the time and I will have a text from him from one minute before. In case you think the text wakes me up, I turn my phone to silent every night of my life so that it doesn’t happen. It is like we have some kind of mental energy. I’m a skeptic people but I swear it happens. I don’t believe in astrology and when people (including Al) say things like, “Everything happens for a reason” I roll my eyes.
But there is some kind of mental energy we send back and forth.
When we get together, we wrap up and sleep like dogs. I mean we don’t move away from each other at all. He said that he woke up once and we were both on our backs but I was leaning into his shoulder and we were holding hands.
We had 2 nights (the first night I got in at 10 pm.),
44 hours – 13 for work = 31 – 18 for hard sleep = 13 hours.
We had about 13 hours of face to face time.
The hard part of such a quick trip is that we don’t even have 24 happy hours before we start dreading the leaving. So we take turns having mini crashes. I get quiet and he talks more and says repeatedly, “Look, I love you, this is going to be okay.” I quit making eye contact because I am difficult and immature and he says, “Don’t you dare say you can’t do this, we can DO this.”
Long Distance Relationships Suck Balls.
(As Al says)
We have sore and tender hearts.
To go with our sore hearts, because at least 1/2 of the other 13 hours was spent rolling around in his bed or on his living room floor, we have sore parts. I think a large part of it is me. I swear, I have this primal thing with him. I smell him. Who does that? I never wanted to smell Stanley. As a matter of fact, I think I spent most of our marriage trying not to smell Stanley. Not that he smelled bad, but Al, he omits some sort of scent that makes me crazy. I salivate. He says I look at him sometimes with a crazy look. How embarrassing! Men are supposed to do that, not 48 year old women!
It is primal.
Like I want to take him all in and climb into his chest cavity.
I have a problem.
I’m afraid the cure for this is marriage. And I don’t ever want to recover. I have a hang-up about it. Like things were rosey with Stanley too until we got married. Then all of a sudden, no more desire, faking sleep when they come to bed, avoiding getting too close because you might accidentally get a bad whiff, etc. Terrible. I am afraid that to me now,
Marriage = Badness
Now my brain is sore from thinking of it.
I have a sore heart, a sore youknowwhat and a sore brain.
I landed in Atlanta to change planes with 20 minutes to get from one terminal to the other. I barely made it and had to run. Full out run. With a sore heart and sore youknowwhat. I landed here and had to pee so bad my back teeth were floating because I didn’t have time in Atlanta. Then I couldn’t remember where I parked my car. It was all the sleep and sex that apparently sucked some of my memory. I roamed the parking lot pushing my key lock looking for the headlights to blink. When I finally came in the house I found the biggest mess in 3 states.
But that is a tail tale for another day because
my parts are too sore and sad.
For any of the women that work with Al and read my blog
and think they should smell him just to see:
Don’t do it. You will hate it.