2003-08-01 - 3:28 a.m.

I think it is has only been two weeks since he left. But I can’t be sure about that because I seem to have lost track of all dates and it feels like it has been months since I last felt his hand in mine. I tell people he is perfect. And he is. Perfect for me. Of course there will be things in the future, maybe, that will agitate me about him. I’m sure someday we will have at least one issue to work through. Maybe again. But this last year with him has been perfect. Maybe it’s the distance between us. Though we see each other far more often than one would expect two people living in different countries, 4,200 miles apart to see one another. But each time we see one another, whether it is for a week, a month, two months, we are uproariously happy. We stay in close physical contact wherever we are. We smile, we laugh, we hug, we kiss. I guess in the back of my mind I thought this would disappear. That there was no way my fairy tale romance existed. I almost wait for it to happen, for him to lose that need to touch me all the time. I wait for that day when we are driving down the road and he no longer keeps his hand on my thigh. I wait for the day when he no longer says, “Let’s just squish for a little while,” and then curls into me for hours. I wait for that day when he no longer kisses me on the forehead while we are watching movies. I guess, in the back of my jaded mind, I thought for sure that by the time the one year marker rolled around we would have settled into that mundane relationship that I was used to. But now, I find myself having been around him long enough that I have experienced things with him and his friends that I can be included when someone says, “remember when?” And I catch inside jokes, I am included in the inside jokes now. And yet, we are still as wonderfully “in love” as the first day we kissed when we started kissing at midnight on Friday and didn’t stop until Sunday when he had to go back home.

But I still wait for it to fall away. I don’t want to, but sometimes I realize that I am panicking inside because I think this will all end eventually. Surely he will get sick of me, surely he will lose that passion he has for me and we will be just like every other couple I know.

That morning I had crawled back into bed with him for a moment, whispering, “I have to go to work now,” into the curve of his ear. I knew he was awake because his breathing had changed, but he hadn’t moved, hadn’t rolled himself into me as he normally does. After a moment of no response my heart started pounding, thinking that for sure this was it, this is when things change. He no longer kisses me goodbye or hangs onto me for long moments wishing I wouldn’t leave. No, now he didn’t care, just wanted me to get out of the bed so he could go back to sleep. I thought, oh god, this is it, this is the start of our mundane-ness, soon enough things will change even more, he won’t call me all the time, he won’t answer my morning e-mails right away, he’ll ignore my nakedness when I get out of the shower and stroll through the house. He won’t smile any more when I do stupid things, he will get annoyed with my stupid things I do. He won’t think it is endearing anymore that I can’t resist stray cats and keep adding to my fold, he won’t think my fits (funny as they may be, I even crack myself up) of jealousy are flattering any longer, instead he will think them repressive….I kept going like this in my mind, my heart thudding deeply in the pit of my stomach, tears welling in my eyes….and then he rolled over, wrapped me in his arms and said, “Okay, but come back to me,” as he kissed me gently.

He is so perfect.


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