Trip 4: days 5-6, hands

Well, once again I am writing from an aeroplane seat, waiting for take off. I’ve struck lucky – only me on my row! It’s 7.40pm in the evening and I have a 3 hour flight before a hotel stay and early get-up for the train home.

I’m calm, I’m happy. That’s good isn’t it? Unfortunately, life has also taught me to be guarded and anxious, so let’s see how long this lasts.

I left off writing after a passionate post-argument making up session. Perhaps less said about that the better. Wow, will suffice.

Saturday morning, day 5, Wildcard came into my room and all was well. As it always is. I commented that his parents had got up early, and he replied that we would go out for the afternoon once he came home from work. I was surprised and happy and wracked with guilt about the argument the night before.

We had a wonderful day as we always do. He drove for hours and hours, taking me to much loved places. We took selfies with each other, photos with his parents and ate slices of sugar sweet apples as we travelled.

On the way back we went to his local city and walked through the market. He bought a jacket with some money his brother had sent him and I smiled as he tried it on, heart-warm from how handsome he looked and how much he wanted my opinion.

As we walked through the busy market, crammed with colour and noise, sellers and buyers, I clung on to his hand frightened of getting lost and heeding his warning.

He is never comfortable when I hold his hand and I have never understood why. I thought it must be his culture or perhaps he just doesn’t like it. He always holds my hand when he needs to keep me safe though. Later, tired after a long day and hugging each other as we waited for dinner, I again attempted to hold his hand and snuggled as close as I could get. He sleepily asked, ‘What are you doing?’ And I replied I was getting close to him. Turns out all the times I’ve said that and haven’t always got the response I wanted, was down to that he didn’t know what it meant. Equally, when he went to pull his hand away from me, I asked him why. His response surprised me and made me realise that we all have our hang-ups. He hates his hands, thinks they’re small and like a woman’s, and I recall a conversation long ago when he said that a girl had made an unpleasant comment to him about them. I told him he and his hands were perfect to me, which they are, and not feminine at all. They’re slender, yes, but definitely male. From that point on he did not pull away when I held his hand.

Bolstered by this honesty and acknowledging his sleepiness – a natural antidote to his tendency to greet meaningful conversations with humour and teasing – I went for it. Be proud of me WordPress. I told him that next time I come, I want to get engaged. He was shocked, surprised and jokingly pushed me away (antidote not working as planned). I tried not to get upset – he was joking after all and I figured an out-right no would have been said with more seriousness. We’d had a great day and I wasn’t going to spoil it by pushing further. We were called to dinner, ate, and I happily, and uneventfully, said goodnight without a murmur of sulking. I had learnt my lesson.

I woke early the next morning, having dreamt unpleasant dreams of my old school, forgetting and failing and then a fire that spread through my town as I raced through in a car I owned 18 years ago.

I messaged him and soon he was there.

I don’t pretend to be particularly experienced in the bedroom. I have had a conservative amount of partners but more than the four serious/semi serious relationships I’ve had. I’ve had good sex and bad sex, and a spectrum of in between. What I have never experienced, is what I have with him. He has had less partners than me, is younger, and yet somehow makes me feel something so uniquely wonderful it makes me question why anyone would have one night stands. And, yes, I have had them.

We had a good breakfast and I counted the hours left before my departure. I didn’t pack, nor did I go for my shower and eventually he asked why. I didn’t want to leave, pure and simple. Whilst my children are my blood, he is my heart.

We sat on the previously ill-fated sofa and he jokingly asked whether he was able to play his game and I laughed and agreed, as long as he told me he loved me. His brother then called and Wildcard spoke to him for a little while. Once finished, he told me about the problems his brother was having with his wife: her jealousy, control and sometimes violent behaviour. She’s Irish and according to Wildcard, has a mental health issue ‘with papers’ to prove it.

I listened in horror to what he told me. His brother is almost a prisoner – not allowed to leave the house without his paranoid wife, unable to call his family more than once a week, and all his wages going in to her account as she does not work. After three years, his brother still does not know the area or how to get out of the situation he is in.

One the one hand, we only have his version and I only have Wildcard’s but I have no reason to disbelieve him. I can understand the jealousy to a point (I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t) but what she is doing can not be making either of them happy and she is definitely hurting his brother and his parents – and why anyone would want to hurt them I don’t know.

Somehow, Wildcard being afraid of marriage and wary about the move to the UK started to make more and more sense.

To be continued.

The catch

Well, I did it. I have actually started my own business.

I know, can you believe it? Me. I have registered the name and business with the Government, paid for a domain and have started building my website.

There is a lot to do. And one could argue that it is not officially a business until I actually sell something. It feels official though, and that is what is important.

This last few days I have had to curb my excitement somewhat in order to actually work on my day job. My boss has given me some admin work and although time consuming, I’m actually enjoying it. By mid week though, I hope to be back on to my business.

For that reason, today has been a bit of a back step. I woke with good intentions but am not sure what I actually did or achieved today. I just felt overwhelmed with everything and didn’t know where to start…kids, business, house, work, garden, me….

Earlier in the week I actually timetabled my whole week. From experience, it is doubtfully that I will stick to it entirely, but it does help with overwhelm usually. When I feel stressed at my workload, I look at my plan and content myself with just doing what is on my list. I ignore the rest for the day they are scheduled. It works 90% of the time.

What I will say about my current situation, is that it is a lonely place. I wish someone was with me in all this. My sister dips in and out, my best friend made a whole load of promises she never kept. Wildcard is…. too far away. He has helped with some things.

Two of my friends have been a great help though. One, who has been a friend for 20 years now, calls me each Monday to see how  I am getting on. She is a great accountability partner and I look forward to her calls and how it spurs me on.

More recently, I reached out to a friend from here, just to say hello and catch up but she ended up giving me some great advice too. 😊.

There is help out there, and I appreciate it.

It is just over three weeks until I go to see Wildcard again. It’s been six months since my last visit. It will be a short one – about four days excluding a day of travel each way. He is worth it though.

Of course, that inner voice which I have learnt so much about has raised her ugly head. She tells me that he isn’t excited about me going, doesn’t care in fact. She tells me that perhaps I shouldn’t go, maybe I would be better staying alone.

There are moments when I believe her. I’ve listened to her for so many years, it is hard not to. Then I remind myself that she is scared. She’s just trying to protect me, keep me safe and in the status quo.  Change is scary and dangerous – she is just trying to keep me safe.

Equally, it’s hard not to let my mind go to La La land and imagine all the romantic things I want, that will not happen. Expectation is the root of all disappointment and I refuse to go there again. Well, I’m trying to refuse.

And there it is…the catch. To get what you want you have to follow your dreams. Except in love. Daydreaming about love doesn’t get you anywhere.

Day 10 – relax

The last few days I have felt so much more relaxed about everything. It’s like the adrenalin of 19 months of waiting and 2 days of travel, and overall excitement and nerves, have taken this long to ease. I’m glad I chose to spend another week here, despite how my ex feels about it.

I’m sleeping better and I’m less conscious about my body – never completely, but less. Our intimate times are truly that now – passionate, intense and intimate. I could genuinely be happily entwined with him all day long – holding hands, touching lips or legs wrapped round each other. My heart and body and soul misses him when he is not near.

But it is more than that. I love being here and am really enjoying being with his mum too. Today I’ve had more cooking lessons and our communication is coming along great. I’m actually understanding much more of the gist of their language.

I love everything here. The culture, the people, the place. I love the rich terracotta earth and the bluest of skies. I love the focus on sustainable, natural produce and the necessity of family, socialising and rest. I love the smell of spices in the air and the vibrant colours. I’ve never said where Wildcard is from because it is irrelevant, but maybe you can guess a little from that.

And his dad – although I spend more time with his mum – he is lovely. He reminds me of my dad a little – not in personality or looks but just as I suppose two men in later life are. It actually made me weep a little this morning. If Wildcard and I marry, his Dad would be the closest thing I have to a father. I would like that. I want, so much, to be in this family. Today, as the three of us sat for breakfast, Wildcard in work, I looked at what they had prepared for me and I was just overwhelmed. I got up and hugged them both, because I just wanted to. They probably think I am a crazy English woman but I am OK with that. I’m an English woman who is crazily in love with their son, and loves them too.

I still have my second set of flights home booked. They are four days after the earlier flights. I can’t tell you how much I want to stay those extra days. But, I miss my kids and I don’t want to impose any further. However much they say I am family and this is my home, I am still a guest. And a complicated one at that with my gluten problems. Tomorrow I will need to move the flights or risk losing the money.

I’d hoped by now that Wildcard and I would have talked about the future but we haven’t, really. On the boat on Sunday, he talked about us having a holiday with the children there. But we’ve not had this serious talk that he has mentioned previously.

Via Facebook, I have made a friend who lives in London. Like me, she is divorced with three children although I think she is a little younger than I am. She is second generation British, with parents who immigrated from somewhere in East Africa. She is Muslim, madly in love with her own LDR and hadn’t visited her man as long as I hadn’t. We started to speak a few months ago to discuss travel etc. We have become friends.

She told me that, in her eyes, we are married. She said that by me staying here with his family, it is a HUGE deal. She said she can tell he is in love with me by what I’ve told her about him. And that there is still time for the serious talk before I go home.

I hope she is right on all accounts.


Following yesterday afternoon’s very interesting phonecall, I was in an enlightened place for a few hours. Probably stupidly, it had left me feeling closer to him and more secure. I don’t know why. It was a first for me, therefore special, but that doesn’t mean he felt the same way.

Anyway, I was enlightened. When he called me again later on, I had gone out for a walk. I wasn’t feeling enlightened any more but this was just due to corona-anxiety plus a weird ‘I want to be on my own to stew but I don’t want to be alone’ mentality. More on that little gem another time.

We had a good conversation about a few things, including the (many) differences in our countries and how this has affected us and our extended families. I enjoy conversations like this because I feel it really helps to get to know each other more. Next minute, he went quiet though and was staring into space. Then, he was asking about my divorce again.

This has happened before. He wants to know why my ex and I have separated. He can’t understand what the issues were. I questioned him and he said two things – one, I apparently change my story each time he asks and he doesn’t understand. Two, he’s worried that I am going be fed up with him in a few years and will ‘fall out of love with’ him too. (He’s really working on the honesty thing)

I tried to set him straight… I don’t change my story, it’s just that there were a lot of issues. Plus, because he keeps asking me, I feel like he’s not understood so have to explain in more depth. How could I not love my husband but be with him 13 years and have three children? I try to explain… I loved him as a person – he is a good man. I thought if I worked hard on the marriage I could make it work. There were a lot of problems from the beginning – most women would not have stuck it out as long as I did. He wasn’t right for me. And I never knew that I could feel the love I had only dreamed about, until recently. Until I met HIM (Wild Card) . I thought love was something you had to work hard for.

He was a little more settled by the end. He said it was my past so he was OK with everything – we still had time to get to know each other and work things out. I, again, told him the strength of my feelings and that what we had was very, very different to my relationship with my ex.


This morning I’ve had another ‘phonecall’ (I’m never going to tire of that) and I sent him a poem that I had written for him which I had attached to one of our favourite pictures of us. He asked me to send it him again but with my name on it.❤️ This evening we have talked for hours again.

He knows me, so well. It scares me sometimes. He knew I was ‘off’ and despite how I tried to explain why, was able to articulate what was wrong with me much better than I could. He then spent half an hour making me laugh, and wouldn’t leave til he knew I was OK. This is why I love him. This is why I need him in my life. He understands me, loves me, cares for me.

And, as an absolute bonus… He is goddam hot.

Overthinking, bad maths and logical thought.

I will admit, I walked into work feeling quite negative this morning. Whereas sleep normally soothes my anxieties and provides me with a reality check and clarity, this morning that didn’t happen. Maybe writing my post this morning didn’t help either – I usually write at night but was too tired and had spent my evening gazing lovingly at Wild Card. Whilst worrying.

(Disclaimer: I am absolutely, definitely suffering from PMT)

I actually wondered if I could go through with this LDR this morning…

Maybe I do not have the right temperament for this. I am naturally anxious, have a low self esteem and plenty of relationship baggage to impede me. How long will I cope with this? The second visit was going to cement things for me. Now it probably won’t happen.

How much of this ‘relationship’ is a figment of my desires and imagination?

How can he possibly be interested in me? Last night he sent me a photograph of himself and it was just… Perfect. It actually made me gasp, my heart racing. And then I think… How the hell is he with you? Is he even with you? How do you know? Maybe you are just a distraction or a game.

It doesn’t help that he is a joker, a tease. Every day he asks me if I have missed him and love him. I always answer truthfully. Every day I ask the same. He always says no. Always with a sly look on his face or with comical emphasis. (He does text that he loves me and misses me BTW, and he always says I love you before we say goodnight but my mind wasn’t thinking about that). Most of the time I know he is joking. But sometimes, 2+2 really does equate to 124658 which means he doesn’t love me.

I walked into my office deciding that perhaps I need to take a step back. Perhaps that’s what he wants. I need to focus on myself. I’m thinking about him, this, far too much. Am I really that happy? Or do I just think I am.

Luckily for me, my first meeting was with the Head of MFL and someone I get on with really well. I’d actually confided in him about Wild Card a few weeks ago as he had repeatedly asked if I was OK and offered a trusting ear. He was good to speak to – knew of Wild Card’s culture and country, had dated someone from another culture and well, was a man. He’d given me some sound advice so far.

We talked work for a while and then the conversation moved on the Coronavirus. He is much more upto date on events than I am (I don’t watch the news purposefully) and he talked about his concerns for his pending trip abroad with his wife and small children. I put across my, seemingly, naive stance on it and we discussed it further. It then dawned on me… I am probably right, Wild Card’s reluctance could be wholly to do with the Coronavirus. I mentioned the situation and my colleague agreed, particularly knowing the culture of responsibility for guests and acknowledging the health care system there. I felt like a weight had lifted.

And then, a little later on in the morning, I happened to read a fellow blogger’s comments on my last post. And she completely and utterly made sense, again understanding his culture. If he and his family looked after me so well last time, how would they cope if I was ill? If I was stranded there? It was the first thing he asked me when I had broached the visit yesterday and whilst I may have convinced him that I was fine with it, he clearly isn’t. And his family probably aren’t either.

Wild Card had messaged me as usual and we had a quick chat with him asking how I was etc.

Someone who doesn’t care would not repeatedly ask if you’re OK.

Someone not interested in you would not spend hours of his day talking to you and making you laugh.

Have I forgotten his care and love when I visited? Have I forgotten his passion and the look on his face? Have I forgotten the frustration he has when he thinks I don’t believe or trust his feelings? Or that I have met his family and talk to them? Or his hurt when he thinks he’s upset me with his joking?

So, breathe. Stop with the bad maths and overthinking.


That night when I spoke to Wild Card, he again brought up Coronavirus, telling me that more cases had been diagnosed in his country. I siezed the opportunity and just asked him if that what why he didn’t want to book. He admitted it was. He said that, if I fell ill, he worried about the health care I would receive or what would happen if flights were cancelled. Everything slotted in to place for me, and my irrational fears were ill founded as usual.

Day six and seven

I’m now sat on the plane, flying away from him and one of the best weeks I have had.

Yesterday morning I waited for his arrival with some anxiety. I hadn’t slept well, trying to process everything. I know we needed to talk but I wasn’t sure when that would happen.

Day six was going to be spent in Wild Card’s home. I was perfectly happy with that. I was very aware of the amount of driving and money he had spent on me and that he was still unwell. For my last day, the thought of lying in bed with him, just being close… Laughing, making love. Well, that sounded perfect to me.

And it was perfect, apart from the tears that kept threatening to spill whenever I thought about leaving him. Pathetic, really. I kept telling myself to just enjoy him. And I did.

We did talk. He knew when he walked in I hadn’t slept and of course wouldn’t leave it til I’d told him why.

I told him I had been thinking about what he had said at the beginning of the week. He replied ‘good’. I asked him if he still felt the same now that we had spent the week together. He said he did.

So, I told him I felt the same. I want the same. He kept asking, checking. I’m not sure if he believed me. He asked if I thought we would be good together and when I said yes, he said he didn’t know. I’m not sure what that means but I get it – one week together and four months talking isn’t enough time to know for sure.

I talked about my need for security. I needed to know if this was serious or not because I don’t see the point in continuing with this unless we both have the same goal, regardless of whether we are successful or not. Don’t get me wrong, I know this can all fall apart at any moment – like any relationship. But because of the situation, the long distance, we both need to be committed to trying for a serious relationship otherwise what is the point? I told him that I was not interested in anyone else and I needed him to say the same. He again said about the fact that I was there and I had met his parents and did I really think he was with other girls?

He also warned me, again, of how difficult this would be. I realise that he knows this better than I do. I just still think it’s worth it. I just need to be 100% sure that we are on the same page.

We went for a walk after dinner and he told me he is going to miss me and he loves me. I said the same.

Last night he stayed with me and we held each other all night.

This morning was difficult as you can imagine. We had breakfast with his family and discussed my flights etc. Then it was time to go.

We talked about the future on the way to the airport. I will visit again, won’t I? Promise? Maybe I could come in the summer and bring my children and we could have a few days at a beach resort? Am I serious about him, really?

Soon I was hugging his parents goodbye, his mother telling me that we were family now and that I am always welcome. That brought, yet another, tear to my eye. I even got a hug from his Dad – no handshake this time.

It was too quick, walking into the airport; too fast that I had to leave him. He hugged me, kissed my cheek and told me to take care and that he would miss me. As I walked away, he shouted me to remind me to contact him throughout my journey.

Soon I was standing at passport control and I connected to the WiFi as I queued. Instantly he called: he was still in the carpark and was I OK? Did I want him stay a little longer? So sweet. I didn’t even realise that they had waited and a good ten minutes or more must have have passed.

Forty minutes later, after spending my unused currency on duty free, I sat down to eat the worst salad on the earth (only gluten free option) and checked my phone to see he had messaged me. Also unexpected – we had agreed that I would message as I was about to board the plane and wasn’t for another hour.

He told me he was missing me. Missing my kisses. And that he loved me. And was I OK? And then he asked for his own reassurance.. Did I love him? Did I want him? Maybe he does feel like me after all.

So now, I am on the plane writing this. I am in the clouds, literally and metaphorically. I wonder what he will be like in a few days, when we have been apart?

I am under no illusion of what I will be like.

[Keeping in] touch

I’ve actually written new posts since my last published one but have kept them for myself. I’ve nothing new to report and realise that I’m actually becoming a stuck record.

I’m flying out to him in six days. Anxiety and excitement and anticipation are running high.

In one of my more panicky moments, I looked on YouTube for a video on how ‘you know he likes you in an LDR’. Pathetic I know. But he met four of the five criteria. He always texts. He always calls. I can’t fault him on that front. We have a routine, I am part of his routine. He shares the day to day of his life, much better than me, and has shown me so much of where he lives etc. The fifth one can only happen when we are together.

I’m coming to accept that anxiety is a natural part of this process, at this stage, and with me in particular. I still hope that once we meet and have agreed on next steps, my anxiety will decrease. It probably won’t.

This week’s lowlights include… Stressing that he hadn’t called when he said he would call, only to find out when he did call (later than I anticipated) that he had been to a funeral….then days later, convincing myself that he wasn’t speaking to me because my messages were not getting through and him calling an hour later on his way home from the gym. He always keeps in touch. When am I going to learn my lesson?

My biggest fear at the moment: getting there, and him not wanting me (up until about a week ago, it was that I wouldn’t even get there). I’m not stupid, this is a possibility. It doesn’t matter that he has said the same about me not liking him when I get there. The thought of going, and the imagined kisses and touches that I am so looking forward to not happening… Well, it’s making my heart pound now.

How I have imagined those moments! When would he make the first move? What will it be – Holding my hand? Brushing back my hair or touching my face? A short but tender kiss? A movie-esque passionate push to the wall with an equally passionate kiss to follow? Will he ask me? Will we just be talking and smiling and then get that look before we both move in to kiss?

I can be quite shy at first and am very nervous about the whole thing. Will he know how I feel? (I would say so, that man seems to be able to read me far too easily.)

So when? The first moment we are alone? In his car coming from the airport? Our first ‘date’?

Is he thinking and wondering about this too?

I would say so. In the months of us, talk of a sexual nature has been limited. There have been a couple of occasions where it has been briefly discussed. There have been moments of looking at each other in a particular way… But he tends to end the conversation when he thinks either of us are getting too ‘excited’. When I asked him why once, he said it is because it ‘hurts’ me (he couldn’t think of the right word) and we are not together to do anything about it. Which seems pretty respectful to me.

This week though there have been two little comments made, in passing, which suggests that it is on his mind too. Maybe not in the same way as me, he’s a man after all, but to actually be able to touch each other – in any way, not just sexual- is a big deal. It’s clearly on both our minds.

I want to feel his hand in mine; the hands that I have watched countless times mess with his hair, or stroke his beard or move as he has danced. I want to look into his eyes, not through a screen, and see the laughter (and hopefully a lot more). I want to know what he smells like. I want to know how soft his lips are and how his beard will feel on my face when we, if we, kiss. I want to know how I will feel when he holds me… Safe and secure, excited? Like I belong?

I want to sit next to him on the couch where he sits, day after day, when he talks to me. I want to laugh with him, and talk with him until everything becomes clear and settled, no matter what the outcome.


I had to pause from the above because, well because, I started to cry. Yes, you read right. I just felt overwhelmed. The realisation hit me about how much I actually like him and want this to work. Maybe this was obvious to you. I knew I liked him. But it just hit me how much.

And all I wanted was to speak to him, that moment. I needed his voice and face and laughter to sooth that feeling that was now pounding achingly in my chest. So I text, asking if he was at home (we had spoken that morning and I knew he might be going to see family). He didn’t reply at first and after ten minutes or so I had managed to calm myself down enough to realise that speaking to him was a bad idea. He’d know something was wrong straight away. I wouldn’t be able to explain properly. So I text with the following:

‘It’s OK, ignore me, doesn’t matter.’

Now, with hindsight and after a half an hour of trying to explain that to him, I realise that it did not come out as I intended, which was:

It’s OK, I’ve sorted whatever it was I needed to speak to you about, don’t worry yourself as you are clearly busy. I will speak to you later. Xx’

How he read it:

I’m angry with you because you’ve not messaged since this morning and I’m jealous and I don’t want you to talk to me anymore (ie, literally ignore me) and I want this to end’

Try as I might, he did not understand that ‘ignore me’, colloquially, means ‘it’s OK to disregard what I have just said’. But why would he understand that? English is not his first language.

The irony being, of course, that I text because I needed reassurance and I ended up having to give him some. He kept asking what he had done and why did I want him to ignore me? Did I want to end it? Had I upset him? Groan.

Eventually, he believed the truth..

That I was sat thinking about next week and I realised how much this means to me. And I panicked that you might not feel the same (had to explain what panic is).

His response once he understood? A wry smile and a “we’ ll see”. He then asked me for a kiss and said he would speak to me later.

Saturday night can not come quick enough.

‘What news?’

I’m sorry if I’m coming across all negative at the moment. My posts can’t be that enjoyable to read. But they’re cathartic and that’s what I need.

Due to the unwarranted negativity I’ve had about Wild Card and this… whatever it is… I’ve become reluctant to talk about him to my friends. This creates its own problems as they think I’m hiding something – I’m not. My sisters remain my trusted sounding board in which I have promised that I will hide nothing from them. Although apparently he is all I will talk about. Blush and shrug.

Interestingly, I had a brief conversation with one of my close friends who was particularly scathing when I told her I had said goodbye to Second. She had been very negative about the whole situation, particularly about Wild Card and was almost bitter. When we spoke yesterday though, she admitted that she had in fact mirrored her own situation on to mine – someone she was very interested in online ended the conversations because someone else had come along. I knew she hadn’t got over it but it was clear why she’d reacted so badly to what had happened with Second – she was Second in her own situation, even down to her/him touching base after a few days to see how everything stood. It made her overwhelming negativity towards Wild Card more understable but I’m am still very cautious in telling her anything now. As my sisters say (and herself actually), she is quite a negative person at the best of times, particularly when it comes to relationships.

So, with that, I’m trying to self regulate my anxieties now. On my way to my appointment this morning, when some doubts and fears started to creep in, I loudly told myself to “stop being ridiculous and that we had been on the phone for nearly two hours last night.” What more did I want?

Yes, one hour fifty minutes to be exact. I guess we were making up for the reduced conversations over the weekend. Lots of laughing, lots of talking. It didn’t feel like two hours and I didn’t want it to end when it did – it only ended because three people tried to get hold of me whilst we were talking and he told me to answer the phone.

As we had talked about my son’s birthday, I then sent him a picture of my son blowing out the candle on his cake which he responded really sweetly too. The advice I’ve read about this type of relationship /situation advises to keep them involved in every day life and to send regular pictures etc. He does to me and I’ve started to do so to him. He clearly likes that and I need to do more.

It’s hard to know what to talk about sometimes. This is such a different situation to any other I have experienced. I know I need to work on my own conversation starters and consider that he might actually want to hear about the mediocrities of my life when he asks, ‘what news?’ every day. I don’t know whether it’s because I spend all day talking but I’m not the best at starting conversations.

I’m hoping though that he’s a firm believer in the following, just like I am…

Actions speak louder than words.

Battle lines – an example of the good, the bad and the downright ugly

“It’s important to send lots of pictures, keep him involved in aspects of your every day life.” That’s a great idea. I should do that. And I just took a lovely picture of me and my son today.

Yes, but you’ve not heard from him this afternoon, he’s clearly busy. And is he going to want that picture annoying him when he’s busy? I won’t send it yet. I’ll send it later.

Later. You’re being ridiculous. Firstly, he told you to message him whenever you want. Secondly, he sends you pictures of him and his family. Do the same. Include him. Good point. I will send them.

Oh. They’ve not gone through. Has he turned off his Internet? Maybe he is just busy.

It’s six pm. And he’s seen them. And he’s sent a kiss. That’s sweet. That’s a nice response. I’m glad I sent them now.

But he clearly is busy as he hasn’t sent anything else. So, I will just do the same, send a smiley face or something.

6.30pm. He has messaged! Ah yes, he is visiting family. That’s important to him. It was considerate of him to let me know now as this is when we would usually talk. He knows I would have worried otherwise.

Yeah, unless he’s just telling you not to bother him and is trying to avoid all conversation with you. He might not even be with family. He could be talking to someone else or on a date. He might just be sick of you.

No, it’s Sunday, and he is probably with his family. I will wish him a nice evening and leave it at that.

7pm. Ah he’s messaged again, asking I am not missing him? If only he knew! I’m getting withdrawal symptoms. Now he’s asking what I’m doing. I won’t tell him I’m sitting here stressing like a loser. He’s asked if I want to see him family but I can’t talk, just observe. Hell yes, I do!

And there he is. God he is gorgeous. He’s wearing that black top I like him in. And he’s just given me that face. He’s pleased to see me. ☺ I will mouth that I miss him….that’s hilarious, he’s just pretended to rub his nose so he can hide his mouth as he says ‘no’…..and he’s just winked at me and then rubbed his eyes… If anyone’s watching him they’ll be wondering what is going on…. Ah he’s showing me his family now. They’re all sat together talking. Can he still see me when I’m watching? Anyway, I look OK. Keep smiling.

Ah he’s back. Still gorgeous, still trying and failing to hide his smiles for me. I’ve got to stop panicking.

He’s going to get caught so I will tell him I will go.

I wish I hadn’t said that. He’s gone now. But he’s text goodbye. Sigh. I need to chill out, calm down and stop stressing about nothing. And keep thinking about his smiles and that look.

Kissing the giggles

I know I shouldn’t be, but I’ve been low the last few days. Not myself.

I’m a good person. I don’t like hurting people. I’m not proud of my recent behaviour. Will you believe me when I say, I honestly thought that Second wouldn’t be hurt? Not really. But in hurting him now, ever so slightly, I’ve prevented hurting someone else.

My fear consumes my happiness. I’m too scared to allow myself to be happy. To scared that I am wrong and they are right. Even though they don’t know him. Even though they’ve never spoken to him. Even though they’ve never seen the look in his eyes or the care in his heart. If it exists.

And because I value the opinion of those I care about, the reactions of some – to what I have done and am going to do – have started to play on my mind. Doubt, pure doubt. It doesn’t matter that they are basing their judgements and prejudice on a faceless name, a bias. Those thoughts worm themselves into my brain and pollute. What if I’m wrong? Blind? Gullable? What if, like with Lost Soul, I’m reading this all wrong?

It starts as always and that’s fine by me. It’s a familiar pattern now, of words and glances, smiles and looks.

He comments on my tiredness though… Once, twice. I know I don’t look good. I move my head, my hair, my position. But today, no angle is making me shine. My face and mind and soul are tired today.

He starts to eat and I start to leave but he says, ‘no, you’re going?’ and I say, ‘I don’t want to but you’re having your dinner.’

We talk some more. And then he leans towards the camera and sends me a kiss. Although, this time, he does it again and again moving his face as if he is moving his lips around my own.

This is what I will do when I see you. I will kiss you here and here,’ as he kisses each virtual cheek and at first I think it is a European custom but then he continues, ‘and here and here’ as he kisses my forehead and my lips, ‘and then like this’ and suddenly his kisses are frantic, and placed all over my virtual face.

Just like I do with my children when I am giving them my love and making them laugh… Kissing every inch of their face as quickly as I can, kissing the giggles out of them.

Suddenly, everything is alright again. That one gesture, one suggestion, is enough.