It was that time between sleep and awake, when I’d be slowly creeping back into consciousness from a short but dreamless and deep slumber…I’d slip back into my body, bit by bit, and begin to realize that I existed, then realize that I was breathing, then realize my name, then realize that I lived in New York City and that I was in bed in my apartment with its red-painted walls and gold-leaf coffee table and that today was a new day, a new day that I was a part of and about to live through.
And then, at this state of being mostly conscious but still a little woozy, I’d roll over to find a warm, masculine body snoozing next to me, he lying on his back most likely and exposing his now-familiar patch of black, wiry hair spanning the expanse of his broad chest. It would take me a split second to become aware of the fact that there was somebody actually in bed with me, and a split second more to realize that this somebody was Catalan Man, but once that awareness hit, I would be overcome with the most divine feelings of happiness, contentment, safety, and just plain love, sweet and uncomplicated and perfect.
And that, loyal readers, was my favorite part of every day for the past 10 days.
This morning was the first morning that I woke up without him.
As is to be expected, I’m feeling pretty shitty/sad/floating in a sea of despondency.
I miss stroking his chest and watching his face as he slowly wakes up in the morning (I just realized the absurdity of these “I love being in love in the morning” comments because I am sooooo not a morning person---love makes you insane, eh?)…seeing his mouth---his wide-set cupid’s bow offsetting his plump lower lip; the corners pulled up into a slight feline smile of utter contentment and relaxation---slowly part just wide enough to murmur in his sexy-ass accent, “Come to me” as he wraps his arms around me and I rest my head on my favorite spot, right between his pecs and his armpit.
I miss our litany of Shrek 2 re-enactments which would crack us up each and every time---we rented it after he expressed indignance that I had no desire to see it and assured me I would love it---but honestly, we could have rented The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and been cooing sweet little chainsaw motor noises into each other’s ears and still been ga-ga, the way everything was going.
I miss our constant conversation, I miss us getting into each other’s way in my little tiny kitchen and burning each other with scalding liquids (ok, ok, I scalded him; my bad), I miss being completely sleep-deprived during the day because we would be up all night either going out on the town, making love, or talking, and I miss the way we’d just hold each other close, kissing and caressing each other’s faces, saying nothing and just stare into each other’s eyes like dumbstruck, star-crossed lovers, which is exactly what we were/are.
But I’m also bittersweetly happy.
I now know that someone like him exists in the world.
And we were lucky enough to find each other and fall in love.
What are the chances, really?!
I go to Geneva for a few days. I decide to ditch plans to go to Berlin and stay in Geneva three days longer. Then, the last night, he comes home from a business trip and we meet. He speaks fluent English (rare for Spaniards, I had discovered), he’s attractive, my age, single, works in a profession that I respect highly, and hot sex on wheels to boot.
So now we’re in this thing.
We’re talking about the future---where to live (he has wanted to live in SF for a long time, and I’m deciding if I’ll be ready to leave NYC by next year), do we live together, are you easy to live with (he says he is, which I tend to believe because we didn’t kill each other after 10 days of living in my teeny tiny apartment---just scalded each other---I mean, I scalded him---can you please let me forget about that?! I feel bad enough already), do we get married down the road for a love & green card combo (he wouldn’t hear of getting married for a green card right away; my mother breathed a huge sigh of relief upon hearing this), and discovering that our family backgrounds and upbringing are actually quite similar, despite living on opposite sides of the globe from one another, etc etc.
It’s totally crazy and nuts and exciting and heart-wrenching being so far away from him and I’m nervous as to how this is going to work out and wondering what obstacles might be coming our way but I’m for once going to try to not focus on that and instead be deliriously happy. After all, for the first time in years, I said “I love you” and meant every nuance of every word.
So, obviously, I’m still processing this, and next week, I’ll have more specifics for you. Including the Grand Diaphragm Debut. Just had to love-dump this week.