So M came over yesterday and it was just plain weird.
When I opened the door I tried so hard to keep my smile to a friendly hello, but I swear I had the biggest, happiest, cheesiest grin ever on my face. I looked down and then away quickly to try to hide it. He walked in and followed me to the dining room where his mail was sitting. He started flipping through it, then went to sit on the couch.
He looked good, lost the 20 lbs he’d gained while we were married, gained it back in muscle. What a little cutie in his jeans and Welcome to Vanderbilt t-shirt. Yes, Sammy, I asked and it was, of course, free.
I sat down on the other couch and watched him open his mail. He made small talk along the way, but it was awkward at best. I didn’t know what to say and it was hard to look at him. He felt so familiar yet so strange at the same time. After about 10 minutes of opening mail he looked like he wasn’t getting ready to leave.
The whole time every possible scenario in the world is running through my head. Maybe he wants us to get back together, maybe we’re going to have sex one last time, maybe we’ll just talk and it will be like old times and we will be in love again, maybe he’ll just leave, maybe maybe maybe maybe…
After a few more minutes of pointless chatter he noticed my p-o-t box sitting on the coffee table and wanted to smoke. I’m still thinking about all of the good maybes at this point, so I roll up a joint and we smoke. I sat on the patio while he walked around and inspected all that was his backyard just 7 months ago. It was beautiful and painful at the same time.
I knew he was planning on staying for a little while when he smoked. I know he wanted me to cook and I actually felt an overwhelming need to just by him being there. It just felt like the natural thing to do. I love to cook, but I don’t love it nearly as much when there isn’t someone there to tell me they like it.
He turned on Ace Ventura when nature calls, a movie typical of his p-o-t moments. Can’t tell you how sick I am of Dumb & Dumber, Zoolander, and Old School (all funny the first 38 times, but after that…). I tried to watch the movie, but I just couldn’t. I found out I was staring off into space when he jarred me out of my thoughts of maybes again by commenting that I wasn’t even watching the movie. Oops. There was just too much to think about at that moment.
At one point over the next 4.5 hours I looked over at him lying on my couch like he lived here and it felt like he did. For a moment it felt like time had been turned back and all that was confusing and sad and scary about him leaving was gone. He was here! He was back! And it all felt so right seeing him there on the couch. I daydreamed he’d ask me to come over and lie next to him, and I got shivers when I thought about how nice it would be to touch his warm skin, to place my lips on it again. I wanted him to stay the night. I wanted him to never leave. But I didn’t let on to any of this.
Another time we were facing each other and I told one of my lame ass jokes. He tried so hard not to laugh, and I just about peed on myself because I thought it was so funny. After a couple moments we were both laughing, and then we stopped and looked at each other. I wanted to record the moment. It felt so right and familiar and good and us. I’d always tell stupid jokes that he undoubtedly thought were hilarious but he’d try not to laugh and I’d laugh my ass off till he’d finally just lose it. But it lasted only a second. I commented that I missed that. I don’t laugh as much anymore.
M finally left a little after 8 and I could finally breathe again. I shut myself off from the emotions and went to bed early. It was too much for me. I know we won’t be together again. I know it’s not possible. It just seems so hard to imagine having the comfort I had with M with someone else. I’m sure it’s just a little new at this point, since this was the longest we’ve been around each other since he left.
When he first left I remember hearing that it would take half the time we were together to get over him. I remember saying that there was NO WAY it was going to take me 2 years to get over him. I thought it was going to be like 3 months max. Now, 7 months into it, I realize that a year is going to be minimum, but probably not enough time. I’m not setting limits or anything, but I’m in no rush to move on. Especially after seeing him this weekend.
I hope cute little Tony doesn’t decide to make his move soon. You know he’s going to, right?
