Trip 6, Day 7 – 10pm

True to his word, around 10pm when he heard one of his parents, he had got up bleary-eyed and mussed-haired. He checked the time, kissed me and said goodnight then left.

After some time being consoled by my friend and being brought back down to earth, I calmed. But of course I didn’t sleep well.

I woke a number of times, wondering what time it was, wondering how things would be in the morning. I also had my first school dream of the New Year – I start my new job on Monday. In my dream I was lost but kept finding ex pupils who wanted to speak to me. There was a moment of me climbing through a window, escorted by my agency manager, as I tried to get to my new classroom.

Eventually, I woke at 8.30am. I made my morning rituals and fully expected him to not come in until later. He came in before 9am.

I attempt to apologise but he shushed me, held me, and took out his phone. We lay, cuddling for some time.

It was not forgotten though. As we waited for breakfast, he joked that he was going to tell his mum that I thought she went to bed too early. I didn’t like that.

He didn’t tell her but I was a little quiet of breakfast, tired from the poor sleep and the nerves.

Today, he didn’t go to work. We’ve had a nice day relaxing and spent some time on the roof terrace, goofing about. We had a dinner for two as his mum was fasting and dad was out. He blew me kisses throughout the day which made me smile.

By the evening, I was again a little contemplative. At some point, I will need to write this all down. But not now.

As the sun went down, his mum invited to me to eat with her. I wasn’t hungry but I felt she didn’t want to eat alone so joined her. I didn’t eat much, but I think she appreciated me being there.

Then there was tea. I knew what was coming and had no real plan of how to play this. As always, once finished, his mother and father went to bed. There was then silence in our room, other than the TV.

Part of me considered just going to bed (it was 8pm) but then I’d have just made last night seem like it hadn’t mattered. But I also didn’t want to force him to stay up.

Eventually, he put his phone and cup down and beckoned me to him. He teased me for some time, frustrating the hell out of me, but also gave me sweet sweet kisses.

Just after 9pm, I decided to admit defeat and told him I would let him sleep. We tidied away, and I waited for him to say goodnight by the window in my bedroom.

He came in and stood with me, arm around my waist and looking out into the night before smacking my bottom in jest.

I sat on the bed and he joined me, leaning in for a kiss and then tormenting me by pulling away, repeatedly.

He joked that I must be asking myself, why do I have this crazy boyfriend even as my heart is happy. I told him no, that is not what I think. After prompting I whispered, “I ask myself, why am I not good enough?” I don’t even know where that came from and I was as surprised as him except….I know it holds the truth.

He didnt try to discuss that with me for long. Seeing the raw emotion I felt, instead he kissed me gently over and over and over. But before long we were kissing passionately and not long after that, making love.

He left me just after 10pm.

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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.

Trip 4: day 4 …😔

It’s 5am. I did it again.

I’m finding this hard to write, pausing before every word because I don’t know how to explain. My feelings are undecided, confused. I don’t understand myself.

I don’t know where to start.

I will be succinct and factual. That’s something new for me, isn’t it?

I was angry with him. I lost my temper. OK.. so why?

He came home at lunch and everything was fine after the previous night’s hiccup. We spent the day on the sofa. He watched a national football game. We played a game of draughts. He watched a series on his phone and played his football computer game. Later, I asked if we could watch a film together and he said we could, in the evening. But when that time came, he said he was too tired and we would do it Sunday.

I got a quick kiss and a goodnight and he went to bed. I was disappointed and angry. I sent him a sarcastic message.

He didn’t see it. I then heard the music from his game and I lost it. I stormed out the bedroom, stood at the end of his bed, glared, and stomped back.

He followed.

I was angry. I said that I wasn’t his wife, I was his girlfriend and he needed to make an effort. Ouch. He replied that they are the same thing, aren’t they? I said: “I’m your wife when you put a ring on my finger.” Ouch. (I would still want an effort if we were married though, surely? I’ve been down that road.)

He was genuinely confounded. He laughed at first as we rolled off what he had done that day. But he had absolutely no idea what we could have done instead. He was confused and surprised.

Problem is, neither could I. This is why I am confused. This is why I am writing this at 5am to work it out.

Did I feel happy? Yes. He spent most of the day on the sofa with me, his feet in my lap. I enjoyed when we played the game and when we took 10 minutes to take a walk on his rooftop. I would take this over not being with him any day.

Was I frustrated? Yes. I’ve come a long way, spent a lot of money, to be sat on a couch watching him play a football game on his phone. I felt like I had made all the effort. Throughout the day, I sent pictures of him on his phone (with humorous but clearly frustrated captions) and at one point danced around the room to get his attention.

Did I enjoy the day? Yes. Did I want more? Yes.

Does effort = feelings? In my head, at that moment in time it certainly seems to.

He told me, there and then, “I don’t show my feelings.”

So, let’s unpick that right now.

I undoubtedly show and tell my feelings probably too much. Losing my dad taught me the importance of telling those you love how you feel as often as the feeling hits you. He shows his feelings, of course he does. But he is very guarded and I feel like there is a whole well of emotion hidden that I don’t comprehend. So, if he doesn’t or can’t spell it out for me, my over-imaginative brain makes up its own mind. As I’m anxious and afraid, it’s often negative.

He’d told me that he hadn’t wanted to cuddle and kiss in bed with me because it always leads to sex and he didn’t feel like having sex (you can imagine how my self esteem dealt with that one at first!) because he was tired and ill.

He’d told me that he hadn’t felt well all day (which I should have known, apparently) and that he had said we could watch a film on Sunday before my flight home. He said we had spent all afternoon and evening together on the sofa (true) so what did I want? What did I want to do?

What did I want…

Alone time. Holding hands. Cuddles. Kisses. Not worrying about his parents walking in. Being unguarded. It didn’t have to be sex. So that’s intimacy, overt signs of love.

What feelings did this situation trigger?

I associate low effort with low interest. My ex husband didn’t try, took me for granted. I eventually walked away. Alongside that, I believe that if we are not making an effort he will get bored and find someone else.

I don’t need taking out BUT if we had gone for a walk (it was raining) or a coffee, I would have felt special. If we had watched a film, it would have felt special because we were doing it together and his attention would have been on me, weirdly. We would have been alone in his room.

My self esteem states that if he doesn’t make an effort, he isn’t interested because he doesn’t tell me otherwise.

So….although I’m not usually bothered about material things or being taken out, when there is no other evidence (like him telling me) I have no other choice but to associate an engagement, a date, a gift, an activity, physical intimacy to his feelings.

Is that it? Is that the problem?

The argument ended with his frustration and my fear that I’d caused another row. I didn’t understand my own behaviour. Why was I arguing about something that deep down I wasn’t actually bothered about? I genuinely don’t care about going out if he doesn’t want to. Material objects are worthless without the thought behind them. I now realise, on some levels, that it is true. I do believe that, even if I seem like I am contradicting myself. I wasn’t bothered. I enjoyed sitting on the sofa with him, his feet on my lap or getting warm between my thighs. I enjoyed him winking at me when he caught me looking. But, as I have to use his actions to understand the depth of his feelings, perhaps I by extension am looking for the substantial always fearful that we are not.

He sat on the edge of the bed frustrated and said he didn’t understand me. Eventually he lay down, his arm draped over his eyes. I was knelt between his legs and rested my head on his lap, gazing into the distance and trying to figure what the hell was going on in my head. It raced from explanation to excuse, trying to understand that rush of anger over something so silly.

With my head on his lap, I kept apologising and telling him to go to bed. He didn’t and said nothing.

After a few moments he sat up and ran his hands up and down my arms. He then planted soft, soft kisses on my lips and cheeks. The kisses became more passionate. He half lifted me and twisted me towards the bed.

“Is this what you want?”

I told him that I had been happy with the kisses and that I knew he didn’t want to have sex so it was fine, we didn’t have to.

We made love instead.

Deeper

I’ve been here for six days now. For those of you (and I thank you now) who have read about my last two trips to see Wildcard, desperately trying not to repeat myself. So if I do, apologies.

As with last time, we have now got into a rhythm of sorts. I can’t deny though that things feel different, in a good way.

Each morning I wake and freshen up before lying in bed and reading or listening to music. I wait for him. There’s no point lying about it, that’s what I do.

He’s surprised me by coming in as early as 8 o clock which is wonderful from every angle. He kisses me good morning and then we cuddle, legs entwined, my head on his chest and hom stroking my hair or my back. We talk a little. Sometimes he falls back to sleep (he is not a morning person) sometimes we make love. Then eventually, he has to get up and go to work. He kisses me before leaving and I watch him drive away from the window.

Why am I telling you this? Is it even interesting? I tell you this because when you are in a Long Distance Relationship (LDR), morning like that are gold. I love every second. Without trying to generalise too much, I’m guessing that most couples after two years don’t get that feeling each morning. For us it is a novelty and it is special. My advice is treasure those moments, LDR or not. It is too easy for life to get in the way of precious moments like that.

Needless to say I hate him going to work but he has to. So I get up myself and get washed and dressed and have breakfast with his parents if we didn’t have it before Wildcard leaves for work. My conversations with his parents and mum in particular are going really well.

After helping to clean up, I then do some drawing or reading or listening to music. I offer to help with housework each day, and each day I’m told no. So I relax and enjoy and…honestly again, wait for him to come home for dinner.

I get that thrill as soon as he walks through the door. My eyes cannot take him in enough and all I want to do is kiss him and snuggle up to him. To me he is still the most handsome man I’ve ever met.

He then lies on the sofa and I sit by his feet, often with them in my lap or he teases me by softly kicking me when I’m reading, only to stop when I look his way. Sometimes he gains my attention by making funny noises until we are both laughing.

I remember feeling really frustrated last time. He was always watching TV or something on his phone and although I like the physical closeness I admittedly get a little bored. Plus I wanted attention. This time, I go with the flow. I’m on holiday, he’s not. This is his routine and I am now a part of it. So long as I keep myself occupied, all is good – and the more I’m occupied, the more he disrupts me with his tickling, kicking and funny noises. Life is so much easier when you just lighten up.

To my surprise and delight he has actually initiated some amazingly intimate times on this trip, when his parents are out shopping. Last time, he didn’t at all and I wondered why not as it was the perfect time. These moments are extra special and loving and intimate, perhaps because we are so relaxed. The sex is different too than before. I can only put it down to this deepening connection we have: I’ve never felt anything like it.

Deepening is the perfect word for what is happening, for me at any rate. I knew I loved him a lot and knew I was completely in love with him. But the more we are together, the deeper it is getting. It takes my breath away, makes my heart pound and my stomach lurch.

I don’t want to leave. I never want to leave, I know that, but I’m going to feel a wrench this time that I’m not sure I can cope with. He’s attached to me in the deep depths of my soul now and to be apart from him seems impossible.

Day 7 – love

“I want to know what love is. I want you to show me.”

Foreigner

Last night I told Wildcard that I was scared about how much I love him. I’m not sure he, or even I, understands.

I’m 41 years old. I’ve been in love before. I’ve loved before. Or so I thought.

This, this is different. I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before.

I truly understand the meaning of ‘heart ache’ now. It is an actual physical feeling, an aching in your solar plexus. I feel it when I miss him.

I know what ‘making love’ means now. It is not just the physical act of love: sex. It is a need to get as physically, emotionally and spiritually close as possible to the person you love. It is a need to be locked together, as physically intimate as two humans can be. I’ve never had that feeling before. Ever. Sure I’ve wanted sex. Sure, I’ve wanted to feel like a man loves me through how he has sex with me, but that is not the same as what I’ve just described.

It is the intense feeling of happiness, joy, elation…every time he calls me or he walks through the door.

It is the knowledge that you only feel content when a part of your body is touching theirs.

So, to use his words: “So, where’s the problem?”

I thought that by seeing him again, it would ease some of the feelings I have. That, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ so by physically being with him I would calm down. I haven’t. It is the opposite. Now, instead of looking down into the kaleidoscope, I’m actually in it.

It is the absolute fear, being terrified, that I feel this alone. That I will lose this man, this feeling. That I am wrong in thinking he loves me too.

I have thought myself in love before. I have thought that those men felt the same. Neither was true. I learnt the hard way that they didn’t love me. I’ve learnt the easy way that I didn’t truly love them.

It is the understanding that my grief in losing those who I thought I loved and was in love with, will never compare to what I will feel if I lose him- now I truly know what love is, I will truly know what pain is.

It is the doubt that I am not good enough. That I could lose this because I am not what he needs or wants. The idea that because he is younger, he has not had my journey. As I write, I’m not even sure I believe that myself, but it is a fear I have nonetheless.

My fear is not a new thing. I’ve felt it throughout our relationship. In part, I think it is because of the distance. But I also think we both knew early on that this was something different. Special.

I still don’t know what the future holds – we haven’t discussed that yet. But what is for sure is that I know I will never be truly happy now unless I am with him.

Pexels

The second sex post

You read right. If you’re shy, look away now. Although, being honest, it’s probably a 12 rating at best.

My last, and ironically first, sex post charted unknown territory – phone sex. What a success that was! We have partook in that particular activity a few times now. Honestly, not as often as part of me would like.

The last time, we ended with our usual kisses and I love you’s and he said he would call later. Except later turned out to be about five minutes or so later. And I was still a little flushed. We laughed about it and he called me his bad girl. I suppose it is bad but it’s soooo good too.

But as I said, the problem is now that every time he calls me – rather than video chat – which he has taken to doing some mornings, my body kind of expects it to happen again. His voice does delicious things to me anyway but then the memory of past experiences… Well, you get the idea. So, I’m on the phone in eager anticipation. He’s half asleep and talking sporadically, and then the call ends. I’ve no idea if he’s waiting for me to start, if he isn’t interested or what. I don’t expect it every time but, you know, now and again would be very nice.

And this week it has got worse. I’m not sure if it is because I should have been with him this week but… He is just taking my breath away. Videochat camera opens and bang… Instant physical and uncontrolled reaction. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing. I’ve said it before, he often calls me as he is going about his every day chores. Like washing when he comes in from the outside, me propped up against the mirror. Or when he is on his laptop, listening to music. It doesn’t matter what he is doing. It just hits me: my breath catches, my heart bounds, my stomach flips. Sometimes he is oblivious to what’s going on in my head and he asks me why I am looking at him like that. I tell him I’m just loving him or I tell the truth sometimes and says he looks good (which he then denies). Other times he is well aware of the effect we are having on each other and he quickly snaps us both out of it (erm, phone sex???)

This week I can’t seem to get through a call without it happening. And the problem is, I’m having to avert my gaze to hide it. It’s the only way I can hide my amorous and uncontrolled reactions and not come across as completely sex crazed. (Which I’m beginning to think I am.) But then, he thinks something is wrong or I’m bored which means he either starts asking what’s bothering me or ends the call. Neither reaction the one I’m wanting. So whilst I’m happy that I’m starting to be able to hide my desire from my far too readable face, I’ve got to find a way of being able to do that whilst still looking at him. Sigh.

I suppose this is really normal in the context of a new relationship. If we lived closer and were having actual dates then I guess quite a few of them – OK, all of them – would end up in the bedroom.

My goodness, long distance relationships are hard.

The sex post

I’m being purposefully blunt. Whilst I hope my writing remains respectful, if you don’t want to read about this, I understand.

I’ve been awake since 6.30am which is really annoying as I had hoped to have a lie-in today. I should have remembered to turn off my alarm then.

But I’m back in bed with a coffee and I’m going to wade through yesterday’s events.

Since I’ve been off work, Wild Card has called me even more regularly. Once he checks in, I can expect a videocall approximately every two hours. Some are short, some are an hour or so. There’s not a lot to talk about and yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just want to be near him.

But yesterday was a big first for me: phone sex.!!!!

First, let’s put some context in. I’m weeks away from my 40th birthday. As a person, I think I am that strange mix of coming across as a moralistic prude but actually I have a really healthy sex drive. I’ve grown up in a generation where girls shouldn’t sleep around but it was accepted that boys would (which doesn’t make sense if you think about it). Despite the healthy sex drive, I have said no to men I physically would have loved to have had sex with – I have some standards and respect for myself. This included saying no to Lost Soul on many occasions, even though I was desperate for that physical and emotional connection with him. As a rule, I’ve avoided one night stands although I have had a couple, and apart from one, it was with men I had met a few times so they were not complete strangers. (Yes, I know they still count as a one night stand.)

Maybe some of you would call me repressed – it’s the modern world, if you want consensual sex, have it! Some of you will think the opposite because I have admitted to having one night stands. All I can say to that is, you have to make your own decisions about what you deem is acceptable in your life and culture. I don’t look down on other people’s sex lives and in fact, I am often in awe of them. Before visiting Wild Card, I hadn’t had sex in six years. Yes, six years. The majority of my 30s were in self enforced celibacy. That is a very depressing thought, now that I have realised it.

I wrote every day during my week with Wild Card. I didn’t mention that we had sex, although I think I hinted at it. We had sex. A lot.

It goes without saying, that the lack of physical intimacy in an LDR is a real problem. Sex comforts when you’ve rowed or have had a bad day. Sex is exciting. Sex proves your attraction and wants and needs. Sex connects you. But it is missing in an LDR and is like the white elephant in the room, particularly once you have met and have been intimate.

I have a healthy sex drive. I’m very attracted to Wild Card. Even his voice. The way he looks at me. Sigh. And I’ve experienced what sex can be like with him. But I live in a different country to him. And we are both in lock down.

So how to keep the intimacy going?

What I will say, is that he has always been very respectful. Unlike English men, he has never sent me a ‘dick-pic’ or asked for a picture from me. Until recently, we have not even talked about sex. In fact, I think the first time it was mentioned was in the days leading up to my visit and it was more a fleeting comment. There have been times where he has ended a call because our flirting has become too much and he doesn’t want to ‘hurt’ me. (I’ve translated that to sexual frustration).

But then, I had the phonecall last week. We’d been on videochat and he had switched to voicecall as he was in the street. I discovered his voice had a direct line to my newly awakened sex drive. He sounds so hot over the phone! So, of course I told him that. Maybe that knowledge built up to what he did yesterday.

In the past month, since my week with him, things have built up to this moment. More of staring at each other longingly. Brief recollections about our intimacy when we were together. There have been a couple of times when I have thought he has wanted to talk in more depth, but whether it’s been me or him, they have shut down.

Yesterday, he called me as soon as he got home at lunchtime. We had a brief chat then he went to eat.

An hour later he called me. As in, phonecall, not video.

He knew what he was doing. And it was the hottest, sexiest thing I have ever done in my nearly 40 years. I have never done that before, not with my husband or anyone else. But my goodness, I will happily do it again with him.

He talked me through his wanting me. He told me what he would do if I was with him: there, now. He asked me what I liked about our time together and what I wanted right now. I was new to this, but got lost in the moment, my shyness forgotten. I shut my eyes, pictured him and told him how I missed him and wanted him. I talked about our intimate moments, my favourite moments of being together. And part way through, he asked me if I loved him: Over and over. And he told me he loved me, over and over. To hear his love, and his want and his need for me.. Well, it soon overcame any prudish thoughts or embarrassment I could have had.

Thing is, as it perhaps obvious, I wouldn’t have done that with just anyone. I haven’t done it with anyone. And I guess, with how respectful he has been, he knows that. It was surprisingly intimate: I felt connected to him afterwards. That was unexpected me.

So, with that in mind, our conversation later that evening came as a bit of a surprise. More in my next post.

Update and reflection – part two

So, I did message in the morning to wish him a good journey, just the once. I didn’t respond when he did because it wasn’t needed.
My calmness was rewarded with messages in the afternoon, a video chat half way on his journey and another when he got home.

Yesterday, his first day back at home, he called me as I was leaving work (which is really early for him), when I got home and then he was messaging me throughout the evening as he visited family.

At one point he called, a silent video, whilst we messaged. We talked about how we had been having amazing sex that time a week before, and it was so hot and exciting to see his guarded but obvious facial expressions as we wrote to each other.

He called again when he got home. Things seemed back to normal. He asked if I missed him. He asked if I loved him. He questioned my feelings, particularly in response to the fact that I have been married.

He struggles with this. He doesn’t believe me when I say that I didn’t feel for my husband like I feel for him. That sex with my husband wasn’t like how it was with him.

I am being entirely truthful when I tell him this. And this, this is the source of my anxiety because it is true. Yes, I loved my husband. We were happy, for a short time. But the majority of our relationship was filled with unhappiness and doubt. I worked so hard to make it work, for years. I told myself: that’s what you do when your married, you work on it. There’s no such thing as a soul mate. You find a good person, accept their flaws and work on it.

The cracks in the relationship with my husband were there in the first year. If I hadn’t got pregnant within the first year, we probably would not have stayed together. But I pulled him along the path of a serious relationship, hoping that each stage would cement those cracks: live together, get engaged, buy a house, get married. They never did. The cracks became a chasm. Years of little or no sexual intimacy. Him sleeping on the couch. An 18 month separation. A third pregnancy from a one-off unprotected sexual encounter in the hope that it would repair the awful sex life we were having following getting back together.

My postnatal depression following the birth of my third child was in direct response to the fact that I knew that nothing had changed. My marriage was over and had been for some years. We stayed together for a couple of years after that, but he slept on the couch, we had no intimacy and we argued continuously.

This feels very different with Wild Card, irrespective of the long distance.

***********************

It was getting late as we talked and I told him I would let him sleep as he was in work the next day. He said no. He told me to ‘come here, next to me’ as he lay down, eyes weary.

‘You want me next to you?’ I asked.

‘Yes’. I lay on my bed too and just watched his face as his eyes closed. I could see the softness of his lips, his dark lashes resting on his face. And I was transported back there, to him. When I closed my eyes I could remember the feel of his body next to mine, the sound of his breathing, his smell, my feelings as I lay with him… loving him, and feeling loved in return.

Eventually we said goodnight, sent kisses and ‘I love you’s and the call ended.

Today has been more of the same. A morning call followed by a longer afternoon call where we played games on messenger – that was fun. He played with my youngest for ages too which earned him even more of my affection. Another call on the way home from the gym. And again this evening…

I love every second. I love the way he looked at me tonight. I even love that my sister asked why we were not talking on the phone and he replied:

“She knows me and I know her. We are talking with our eyes.”

And my goodness, were we…

This is what I have got to try to remember when I’m panicking. Days like today.

Turmoil

This blog post has been really hard to write. I don’t know where to start or how to explain the confusion and feelings I have had today.

About half an hour ago my son asked me if I was OK. He said I was ‘acting weird’ and my daughter agreed as she walked past. I asked them to explain and they said that since they’d got home from their Dad’s, I’d been more loving and calm than usual, and happier. I was astounded. Apart from being exhausted and pleased to see them as usual, I didn’t know what to attribute it to. Except, perhaps, for the effects of my time with Lost Soul last night. There’s a warmth radiating from my solar plexus that can only have come from my time with him.

After only four hours sleep I awoke at my usual time this morning. As could only be expected, the events of the previous night with Lost Soul were immediately in my mind. No doubt aggravated by lack of sleep and a looming hangover, the array of thoughts and feelings which flooded my sleep-deprived mind was overwhelming.

Disbelief came on pretty quickly. How had it happened again? How was I back in that situation after all my promises to stay away?

I quickly acknowledged that this one is obvious. Anyone who has read my blog will know how I feel about Lost Soul, even after all these years. No matter what has happened or how much I tell myself that there is no future between us, I can’t turn off how I feel about him.

However I did not expect him to act the way he did last night. My post, Strong, shows that: I acknowledge that so much of this comes from my own head.

If I believe what he said, he wanted to be with me almost as soon as he arrived. He certainly made comments through out the night to suggest he was attracted to me. But then there was the unprovoked conversation where he told me that he was purposefully staying away because he didn’t want to harm our friendship. Shortly after that, he upped his attentions to me and started making open propositions for us to spend the night together. Confused? Me too.

I didn’t know how to react to him. I want to be with this man and have done for a long time. But I’m so confused about his feelings for me and my feelings for him that I can’t trust our decision making. I don’t know what is going on.. So how can I make a good decision?

He’s never pursued me as persistently as he did last night – in words anyway. He said that he wouldn’t make a move on me without me giving him the go ahead. I just couldn’t and he didn’t.

Why not? I want him. He wanted me. We are both single, consenting adults. We are both attracted to one another. We get on well and understand each other. Why wouldn’t I let myself be intimate with him?

I suppose I wanted the sensual intimacy first. The slow build up. The kissing and caressing. Why didn’t he kiss me until the end? Was he waiting for me to make the move? Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I? Only when I went to kiss his cheek right as his taxi arrived did he kiss me tenderly, sensually on the lips.

Does he want to try a ‘relationship’ of some kind or was this just a one night stand? Does he want to be FWBs? Was this a symptom of his loneliness and recent relationship break-up or was this an opportunity to start something between us?

Am I just out of practice? Is this how relationships start nowadays – straight into sexual intimacy? Open, honest acknowledgement of sexual desire which may or may not lead into something else? Perhaps he knows no other way to start this, if that’s what he is actually doing. We already know we get on and enjoy spending time with each other.

Have I stopped this from proceeding again? Why did I do that? What would have happened if I had gone ahead?

What do I actually want?

Although I know I am attracted to him, I am never fully prepared for the surge of desire I feel when I see him. I want him. I want to touch his body and run my fingers through his hair. I want to kiss him. Everywhere.

If it was just sexual desire then why would I not take advantage of his own desirous advances? I know he is attracted to me.

I’m self conscious and I’m not sure why exactly. I have not had many sexual partners but I am not inexperienced either. I’ve had one night stands but always with someone I knew or had met a few times first. In the past I have been confident in my sexuality and desire. I’m no prude nor a wallflower.

I have standards though. I don’t want to feel used. I’m OK with sex as sex when it is clear that there is desire for me and care, even if this is a no-strings situation. At the same time though, that was me in my early 20s. I’m now in my late 30s. I’ve had three children and have the body to show it.

I’ve not been intimate with anyone for a long time. My marriage was sex-less in the last few years and I have not had a relationship since we separated. That’s nearly five years worth of celibacy. Wow, I didn’t realise it was that long.

This doesn’t explain what I want though.

Would I have a one night stand with him if that’s what was offered?

I don’t know. I’m intrigued about our compatability and the ‘spark’ between us. I’ve not let myself go around him so this would be a chance to. I’m scared either one of us would be disappointed.

Do I want a relationship with him?

I want to be with him, is that the same thing? I feel alive when I’m near him, like something has awoken inside me. I know how well we get along together I have wondered for a long time how that would feel in a relationship. Would we continue to be better people because we are together – inspiring each other to greatness.

Or is this all a case of wanting what I can’t have – the fantasy being better than the reality. We’ve been in this slow game for seven years, with moments when we have both been in relationships, both been single or only one of us single. I just want to know.

Do I want a FWB arrangement then?

I wish I had the confidence for that. It would be ideal in some ways as the no strings would mean that we both knew where we stood but we could each other’s company and intimacy.

But I love him so that won’t work. He makes me laugh, think. He makes me feel alive. We could be so amazing together. We’d be best friends and lovers and enjoy this world to the full.

Or it could all be in my head. Or we’re both so scared so we will never find out.

We have text each other throughout the day which has been great. Maybe he has made me happier today.

God help me.