From Tuesday morning:
When we awoke this morning, the darkness had subsided in all ways. LP was light and playful and funny and adorable.
My impression of this morning was light and laughter. I had gotten up and brushed my teeth about an hour before he awoke, later than usual. We kissed a bit, messed around very little, but again he was on top of me, kissing me, and I was amazed by how perfectly our bodies fit together. He’s just perfect, this handsome, sexy man, kissing my neck, whispering in my ear old comedy routines in a perfect British accent. He loved that I recognized it, recognized all of his cultural touchstones. We’re four years apart, which is not so very much, and we giggled and laughed and teased each other and felt like a couple with our own jokes and routines.
I’ve not really felt that way with him before. Being with him can be so intense that the little fun things can get lost. But it was all fun and tender and funny.
As he kissed me and teased me, he said, you know, “if we are together-together, every morning would be like this.” Yeah, I am so in. He told me over and over how much it meant to have me there, to sleep next to me, to be with me.
He got ready alone, having closed the door to take a shower without thinking. I never open a closed bathroom door, and he was a bit disappointed when he realized I would not join him and, later, why.
He had offered to let me spend the day at his place, in his bed, getting some sleep. I would have loved to, really, nothing would have made me happier, but I could not imagine how it would work. Now that I think of it, he would have come home at lunch. Ah, opportunity missed.
He kept pausing in his routine to hug and kiss me, to keep wrapping himself around me. It had only been 6 hours since we reconnected and it was impossible to believe I was there after we’d been apart so long, and yet, it never felt like we’d been apart.
He was in his closet, getting ready saying that we’d grab coffee, as he asked if I minded if we hit the dry cleaner en route, as he needed to get his tux cleaned before he flew to [the city]. I asked when he was leaving and he said 6 am Wednesday for an awards banquet honoring, essentially, him. He was very proud, as he should be.
I loved that he kept pausing from time to time to hug and kiss me.
We headed off towards coffee and he stopped at his usual coffee place where they know him, in the middle of downtown rush. Anyone in the world could have walked in and seen us together. I was in a cute sundress, he was in jeans for as casual as I’ve ever seen him on a workday. They greeted him warmly, by name, which made my being there even weirder, but I was so happy to be with him. It’s hard to not to beam when I glance over and see him. As we waited, he teased me for ordering poorly, costing us minutes when there was a huge line (“[Plan!], brewed coffee!”). We smiled and just enjoyed being there together.
He acknowledged he’d put on weight. I said, well, I went from anorexia to normal, but I am going to lose a bit (“why?!!! you’re gorgeous!”), he said he would be taking on the anorexia. He does not know it’s an actual issue for me, so it’s not tone deaf. I mentioned that I’d intentionally gained weight when I saw a series of photos I’d sent to him.
As we walked back to the car, he was coughing. I looked directly at him and said “is that a cold or smoking?” He looked chagrined as he allegedly quit and he does not smell at all like smoke, not his clothes, hair, car, nothing. But I could taste it a little when we’d kissed hours earlier and it’s unmistakable. He said, well, it’s a cold, but yes, I’ve been smoking . . .
We headed off to the cleaners and talked about a cultural passion we share in which he’s been reengaged actively. It’s his creative outlet. He has been rather successful at a young age at it and he’s recommitting to it. He’s very talented, obviously, but I loved his work. It was rough, but clever and engaging. He said I was the first person with whom he’d shared it, but I find that hard to believe. I do like that he said it, though. He was very excited about this new project and he loved my enthusiasm for his creative work.
When we arrived at my building, we kissed in the car and I asked when he was coming home. He said Saturday, but I felt like such an idiot for asking. It’s not as though I would see him then. We smiled at each other and I floated upstairs, wondering if I would see him again.
A half hour later, I texted him en francais, I want morning sex, but I will take coffee, which is something I had said to him when we were laughing this morning. We exchanged adorably cute messages throughout the morning.