I just returned from having lunch with Chad. Yes, that’s right, lunch. Next, it will be coffee, then running into each other by accident in sixteen street mall. Although I have shed a few tears, it is the first time that I haven’t wept for at least an hour after we have been together. I didn’t even cry when we were together. Although I got a little teary when he told me he and several of his friends were going to San Diego for their Pridefest. We went to San Diego last year. We were supposed to go this summer. I still have the paper he wrote down all the different flight prices. That felt like a stab to the stomach, but I looked away and took a couple deep breaths and smiled. Again, I know that people say I shouldn’t see him, shouldn’t talk with him. It’s not that simple for me. Plus, I can feel him pulling away even more. He only texts every three or four days, and we just had lunch for pete’s sake. I know he’s almost done, and I promised him and myself that I wasn’t going to drive him crazy. Even though he says that I can text or call him anytime I want, that he will always be here for me, I can’t. He wanted life without me. I have to give him that.
As he sat there telling me about his weekend, two things struck me. One, how are any of the insane, crazy things that his weekend entailed more important than the life we shared together, worth more than the love we had/have for each other. Two, how bored he must have been with me. Despite what the insatiable libido and all the tattoos suggest, you can’t find much more of an everyday humdrum homebody than me, no wonder he left.
It is so hard to see him and it is so hard to not see him. It is so sweet and so painful to see that his hair has gotten just a touch grayer. How I loved watching his hair get grayer as we were together. How I looked forward to seeing it complete its transformation. He looks fantastic with gray hair. I looked at his beautiful yellow green eyes, eyes that know me so well, that used to look at me with such love. His beautiful lips. I can’t even begin to say how much I miss kissing me. I’ve kissed a lot of people, it’s my favorite thing in the world and there was no one better. From our very first kiss, it was instant, he was the best kisser I have ever kissed. How do you walk away?
It means so much that he cares enough to still check on me and want to see me for a bit (as pathetic as that sounds). I was also excited to show him the tattoo I got with the money he gave me. Of course today was the first day it was really pealing and scabbing, so it looks the worst it has, but whatever. He’s used to that, since he also helped me get the massive tattoo that takes up nearly a fourth of my upper body.
A sweet friend sent me a message yesterday about how loving someone changes us (thanks, BW). I’m not sure who I’ll be when I finally get to the other side of this. I’m sure I’ll be a little deeper a little more sincere. However, I can’t imagine that I won’t also be more reserved, more quiet (as if that is even possible) from the amazing love that I was allowed to experience and pain that I was expected to survive. Maybe I’ll have more faith from having no choice but to turn Chad and I over to God, only being able to trust that if Chad can ever come back that God will lead him that way, and if not, that God will keep him safe and make him fulfilled.
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