Sure. we had our ups and downs. But doesn't everyone? His retard-like inability to let me close to him was always an issue. But I always thought we'd work our way through it- that if I just loved him enough, he might eventually feel safe enough to open up. And there were two separate occasions when I could actually feel he was happy to be with me. Which doesn't exactly seem excessive in 6.5 years...
But one thing I could never quite get over was the way my job was always just to wait. His work schedule dictated everything. I'd wait and hint and ask and eventually beg him to make time for us. I could never plan anything ahead- instead he'd let me know maybe a couple of weeks before the reunion where to book the flights and how long I could stay. I knew he wanted to take his time and the last thing I wanted to do was to corner him. But in 6,5 years I never felt comfortable about leaving anything behind- not even a tooth brush. Part of me never could afford to take it for granted that I'd ever see him again. And that, I'll have you know, is a very exhausting way of leading one's love life. Not to mention humiliating.
Eventually his way to just shut me out proved too much. And I decided to give someone else a chance. Someone I'd met shortly before I met The Man. Since he and The Man share the same name, we shall call him Junior. When we first met, we clicked in a way I never thought was possible. Especially for a Liverpool fan. But then he, in that fascinatingly difficult-to-decipher blokish way just never asked me out. We'd bump into each other occasionally and then, after he'd moved back to London, we met there. And THEN, years too late, he finally told me he'd always loved me.
So I decided to give me and him a go. We went away for a romantic weekend. In Warsaw. And whoah, let me tell you- there is no romance in Warsaw. It's just about the ugliest place on the planet. Those Soviets really know how to screw things up. Turned out there wasn't much romance between us either and I decided not to get my hopes up. Which seemed fair since he couldn't really get anything else up...
Eventually The Man won me over and we got back together. And we patched things up. Until he just... disappeared one time. After over a week of trying to get hold of him he finally had the courtesy to let me know he'd fled to Spain. I didn't know if he'd ever return. But he did. And we managed to pick things up again.
All this time, through all these years I've been foolishly hoping. Hoping that if I'm just patient enough and give him his time and space...he'll finally stop running away from me. I just want to love him. To look after him. To be there for him, what ever happens.
Even after everything that has happened- what we've put each other through I know I've never been happier than what I am with him. And it's not the 5-star-hotels, exclusive dinners, fabulous birthday presents, luxurious holidays around the world... It's sitting on the terrace with the sun on our face, doing the crossword. Having another one of our 7-hour lunches where we never seem to run out of things to talk about. Waking up in the morning and even before I open my eyes, smelling the scent of his skin next to mine. All small, seemingly mundane things... that in the end are the biggest things there are.
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