Today I was standing in the Botanical Gardens in the winter sun with a belly full of yum cha, kissing.
Kissing tenderly and gently and passionately. Kissing with his face in my hands. Kissing and breathing each other in. Kissing and he tenderly brushes a piece of hair out of my face. Kissing like no-one is watching and neither of us have been hurt before.
And now, in front of the computer, finishing off some work from last week, I glimpse that moment in my mind's eye, and suddenly realise how much I have wanted this. Wanted it so much. To feel a part of something, someone.
He was away last week and I was feeling anxious and when he came back and I picked him up from the airport last week, I felt so calm. And for the first time in a really long time, really long time I am with someone who makes me feel relaxed and calm and ok. And when we're apart I just miss him so much.
I miss the way we laugh so easily. I miss waking up in the middle of the night with our bodies wrapped in each other, not sure which bit belongs to who. I miss the ease of our bodies, our minds. At the gallery we saw some modern art, that almost defied post modern deconstructionist theory, and we were doubled over laughing and then we found a really dark corner and started cuddling and kissing and then laughing again when someone else came into the room, oblivious that we were even there. Before we left I said that I had to go to see some 'real' art so that I felt better about the experience and..well it was just funny and easy and nice. So nice to be with.
Last night it was his son's 21st birthday and being Greek, there were about 50 relatives and friends, including obviously, his ex wife. And it was all so easy and welcoming and supportive. Afterwards, his sister came up to me and said that I was a hit. And today he said the same after reading a text on his phone. And some of his friends invited us out...so different to Pete. Where it was all taboo and difficult and dishonest. And I felt ashamed without knowing why. I then found out that I was the first girlfriend that he had brought along to such an event since his divorce, which was about 6 years ago and when I asked him why, he said very simply and honestly, no one else has been worthy.
So after 6 weeks or so my disbelief is starting to wane. With each caress he takes off a bit of tarnish, heals a few more scars. But it's only been six weeks or so and well I'm trying to get through each day slowly and enjoy it and not be too neurotic in the process. Trying not to sabotage it before it has a chance. And desperately trying not to think about how much it's going to hurt if it doesn't work out.