10 November 2009
Remember the other night when you actually turned off your blackberry (gasp!) and said "work can wait, i have been waiting for this all day" ? You were like a kid with so many sweet questions. It was the closest I have felt to you. I drew a heart in the steam on the window when you left. Even more telling, i suppose, is that I windexed it off minutes later so that it would never reappear and you might accidentally see it.
I can't keep myself from wondering wether or not this will last another winter. It's already been almost a year since you left puddles on the wood floor with your snowy boots that first time, but I still have no idea what this is. I can feel my hard earned indifference turning into a semblance of real feelings and I worry about swimming in those waters again. I mean, some nights you ask the perfect questions, other times you barely say a word and I am left to fill all of that empty space with my own relentless inner dialogue. It would be so much easier to write the beginning and middle if I knew the ending.
Your text last night was cold. WORK PLANS CHANGED. I WONT BE ABLE TO SEE YOU TONIGHT. no regret, no disappointment, no apologies, nothing even remotely human about it, and it's frustrating how technology means I don't even get to hear your voice.
I took a hot bath, poured a french red, sat there soaking in salted water, wondering if I could fall in love with my single life all over again but I wasn't feeling anything but disappointment and desire and sadness about getting older.
(I should have never signed up for text message notification from Gilt.com. every time I hear that beep I think it's you and it's really a killjoy).