The Trip

It was actually sort of perfect. In a tragic, heartbreaking sort of way.
I think I was hoping to find some evidence that he is not exactly what I want. I think I was really hoping to be happy to be back home alone.

The first night was our first date... because everything is all out of order in this relationship. We ate Chinese food and walked around the Plaza. I stopped at The Body Shop and he stopped at a bookstore and bought me a book. Seriously. A book. The most amazing first present ever. We went to a movie and walked back to the car. I don't think I've ever had a better first date.
The best part was that he never once got impatient about anything. Not when we didn't know where we were going, not when I wanted to stop at The Body Shop, not when we figured out that we walked three blocks in the wrong direction...
The weather was perfect and he was fun and sweet and it was all just... really good.

And I love him... so much more than I'm supposed to.

The conference was good, and I got to nap in the afternoons and sometimes he napped with me and sometimes I would wake and find him there, just waiting to kiss me. My favorite part was falling asleep with him; talking in the dark and kissing and just loving him until we fell asleep.
His favorite part was how I took care of him in the mornings... he doesn't drink coffee in the mornings, but he does drink chocolate milk every day so I packed a cooler and made sure there was chocolate milk for him and water for me and also strawberries and cheese and crackers and all of the things that you need to survive four days away from home in a hotel with questionable catering skills. While he was showering I would put milk out for him and then brush my teeth and get ready. We were surprisingly compatible. Crazy compatible.

He loved that I had milk ready for him. And I loved that he bought me a book. He loved that I wanted to watch movies with him in the evenings. I loved that we get ready at the same speed in the morning. And we both loved a thousand other little sweet things. That's the thing. The grand gestures are easy, but the small things - the things you don't even think about - are the things that make relationships great.

Driving home Thursday was rough. We were both quiet and didn't talk much at first. Halfway home I felt this panic start. I didn't want to ruin how great everything had been by crying and I didn't want to pretend to be fine when I wasn't. We were listening to the Eels and driving past fields and then he just started to talk. He said he was overwhelmed by how he feels about me and that this relationship took him completely by surprise. He said he was all twisted up and didn't want to go home.

We both cried a little and then we were quiet again. I know that he is not going to leave his wife. I know that he will untwist and be reasonable again and someday I will be in his past.

But now I know what it feels like to fall asleep with him and wake up with him and kiss him every day as long as I want... and I want that back. I want him here. I want him to come home to me at night and I want to take care of him.

Aaaaaaaand back to reality. He does not belong to me. He is not coming home to me. And that is going to break my heart.