Tonight, I’m missing J an awful lot. I was lying in bed this morning and I looked at my room, and wished that there was a comforting and familiar weight lying next to me. I wished that I could roll over and slide an arm along his side, and hear him mutter sleepily, “You ok baby?”
I usually reply that yes, of course I am, but had he been there this morning I would have told him that yes, I am ok with him. I’m always ok with him.
J has been having a tough time recently. He has his own issues and on top of that he is quitting smoking, which is pretty hardcore and I admire him so much for it. Still he is there for me, despite the fact that some nights he is too stressed to chat on Skype. He always sends me little emails of encouragement- funny stuff he’s found on the internet or stuff he knows I will be interested in.
In America, I was lying next to him the night I told him I loved him and I was bursting with the need to tell him, and I wasn’t frightened at all when it spilled over my lips. He has told me every night since that he loves me, and it’s not tinged with that horrible fake feeling I used to feel whenever I said it.
It’s because this time, it’s real.