Birthday breakfast

I’m 41! Yay! Please feel all the sarcasm in that because believe me it is there.

I am in a good mood though. Last night’s bath, face mask and moisturise has made me feel fabulous this morning.

Of course, my morning hasn’t gone to plan but I am OK with that.

My ex said that he would come early for our youngest to allow me a sleep in. Although we have been divorced a year now and I have been with Wildcard for 17 months, I still get nervous when there is a chance Wildcard could call whilst my ex is in the house. But, as my ex was coming early to leave by 8.30, and Wildcard normally calls at 9.15, there was no issue.

Except Wildcard called at 8.10am. He had taken my ‘I want you’ as physically, which is not inaccurate, and had called for some sexy talk. We haven’t had any of this type of intimacy since Valentine’s Day, I think because of his Grandmother’s death. So I was happy with this. Until I heard my ex come up the stairs and go in to my son’s room which is next to mine.

Our conversation had just started so I buried my head under the duvet and whispered which works in this context. I couldn’t relax of course, fearful that someone would walk in at any point. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy hearing all the ways he wanted to love me physically, how he missed me and wanted to kiss and hug me. And that he was mine. So whilst I was unable to be physical in any way, mentally and in my heart I was happy.

Very shortly after the end of that call, my daughter shouted me. Today she has a trial shift as a kitchen porter in a Michelin started restaurant and hotel. She was nervous, unprepared and needed me. I got a belated happy birthday once she was sorted.

I got dressed and drove her to the beautiful Hall. She was in tears with nerves and I felt for her. A simple job but the first she had gone for. I’ve not stopped thinking about her since and she has only been there an hour.

Ironically, I came home and cleaned my own kitchen. Ironic because she had messed it up making my birthday cake and was too tired to clean up before bed. So, housework has been part of my birthday whether I wanted it to or not. So is life.

I have just had a delicious coffee and my Warburton’s Gluten Free sourdough loaf toasted, with egg and avocado. This is a treat as, at £3.40 a loaf, I refuse to buy it regularly. It is delicious though. I can’t remember the taste of real bread any more, but this is as close as I can remember.

What now?

Well, my house still needs a tidy and I need to make a fire as it is cold. I want to watch something but can’t relax as I keep thinking about my daughter.

I miss my mum and dad. Mum text this morning but hasn’t called. I’m half glad because I think I would cry.

And, whilst the phone intimacy was desired and appreciated, I want more from Wildcard. I need more. Not a gift or present. Him. I want him. I want to feel like I am his, and he is mine and that finally, I can have some security. I’m waiting for it. Not a proposal – now is not the time – but something. A declaration. I don’t know. We will see.

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