I know everyone “loves” BV posts, as everyone “loves” BV.

But, I know that I do actually love BV.

And I need to figure out what in the hell just happened.  And what it all means.

Which means I need to record it and ruminate over it here.

There are some parts that I need to elide over for our privacy/protection/whatever.  Other parts, I am likely to provide more detail than anyone would ever want.

C’est la vie.  If you’re here, still reading, you know this.

There are several parts to the tale, which took place over the course of about 22 hours:

It involves at least two serious arguments.  Possibly friendship-ending arguments.

And then we took a trip together.

Which was amazing.

Until it wasn’t . . . for reasons external to us.

We had sex, which was interrupted.

And then we left . . . or, more accurately, fled . . . and went back to his place.

Where we had sex, which was good, but not earth-shattering.

And then we slept for a few hours.  Or rather, he slept and I tossed fitfully.

Then we got up, got moving, and he was so depressed we each got ready and left together for different places.

He kissed me goodbye and told me he’d see me later, after he studied.

I did not believe him.

I called him around 3, as he said he’d be studying until then.   No answer, unsurprisingly.

He’s hurt, mostly by things not connected to me.  He’s ailing.  He’s not eating.  He’s not sleeping.  He’s beating himself up for backsliding into a lost weekend when things have been going so well.

I am worried, but I am rather convinced he’ll be fine.  I am beating myself up a little, too.  Wondering if I should have enabled.  Wondering why I didn’t realize I was.

I am left with a genuine happiness and a deep satisfaction, knowing that he deeply loves me.

Remember, comment below and I’ll shoot you the password for the next posts.  Or email me at thenewnewplan at gmail.


One last thing I should say publicly:

I realized he loved me when I understood that he is willing to fight for me — or with me — even when I am not willing to fight for myself.

He listens carefully to everything I say, he is deeply concerned about me, he knows what I am trying not to say to him.  I realized I loved him when I understood how important to me it is that he is proud of me.  I want him to love and respect me.

Over the next day or two, I will be publishing everything else privately.  The love song he sang to me in his kitchen.  The future plans we made. The trip we took.