Thursday, May 10, 2007


I hate it when I pick my head up from the craziness of the week and realize my son will be gone over the weekend. Not only because I have a lot of anxiety about where he goes but also because I often fail to think far enough ahead to make plans for myself. I never lack for things that could be done. Books I want to read that have languished under the detritus of baseball practice, spelling drills and Pokemon tournaments. Gardening neglected to make paper airplanes. And, well, yes that list is rather endless........ and solitary.

I relish the freedom and independence I have had since my last relationship ended. I absolutely would rather be alone than in an unhappy or unsatisfying partnership. But I miss the weekends. I miss the anticipation of going out and doing something not just with anyone but with someone with whom I have let myself become emotionally involved. The experience of being somewhere and flirting, letting the energy build between us and anticipating what will happen later that night is so fun. I miss waking up for sex at 3 in the morning when my mind is quiet and it's easier for me to completely surrender. I miss Sundays. Reading weird things out of the paper to someone and hanging out, cooking on the grill or going for a run. Mostly, I miss the talking-----that kind of talking where I can say anything and I don't have to censor myself.

It feels good to have someone value you above the other 6 billion or so people on the planet. I don't mind staving off thoughts of the brevity and perhaps futility of human existence with a little love and sex. I mean what's the alternative?

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