It was the best day of my life. I know that's a cliche but I don't care. I swear I started smiling as soon as I woke up and I didn't stop until I fell asleep.
Best. Day. Ever!
Showing posts with label the good stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the good stuff. Show all posts
Monday, 19 June 2017
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
the good stuff
Someone left an anonymous comment on my last post (not you, BFG, the other one) suggesting that I don't seem to get much positive out of my relationship, and perhaps it is time to be out of it. I admit that comment upset me; not because it was made but because I have allowed it to be made.
I guess I have been writing about the sadness and the strife and the hurt between A and me. Perhaps because I can't express my misery and loss at home, I use this as a receptacle for all such outpourings. Anyway, I want to redress the balance at least a little bit.
A and I have been through a lot, and we have been and are still struggling to come to terms with the hand life has dealt us, that's undeniable. But somewhere underneath the unhappy us lie the "real" us. The man who rubs my back each night when we are reading in bed. The woman who gets off the bus 7 stops early once a week, rain or shine, to go to the only shop in the vicinity which stocks her partner's favourite nut bars. The man who, when my darling little cat was ill just a couple of months into our relationship, stayed up with me all night tending to her even though he had to deliver an early morning lecture the following day. The woman who suppresses her natural hoarding instincts and promised that for every new book that comes into the house an old one will leave it. The couple who danced on the glass floor of the Sky T0wer, regardless of who was watching, because they were so full of joy with each other. The couple who still love each other.
The silence has been broken, too. There I was, fully intending to take your, and particularly Jem's, advice, when the situation righted itself. A spent the whole of Friday evening in the same room as me. We had dinner, watched a DVD, reminisced about our recent holiday, played with my darling little cat, shared the washing up. The weekend was more of the same. I know that I should still talk to him, but while the good stuff is going on, I don't want to.
I guess I have been writing about the sadness and the strife and the hurt between A and me. Perhaps because I can't express my misery and loss at home, I use this as a receptacle for all such outpourings. Anyway, I want to redress the balance at least a little bit.
A and I have been through a lot, and we have been and are still struggling to come to terms with the hand life has dealt us, that's undeniable. But somewhere underneath the unhappy us lie the "real" us. The man who rubs my back each night when we are reading in bed. The woman who gets off the bus 7 stops early once a week, rain or shine, to go to the only shop in the vicinity which stocks her partner's favourite nut bars. The man who, when my darling little cat was ill just a couple of months into our relationship, stayed up with me all night tending to her even though he had to deliver an early morning lecture the following day. The woman who suppresses her natural hoarding instincts and promised that for every new book that comes into the house an old one will leave it. The couple who danced on the glass floor of the Sky T0wer, regardless of who was watching, because they were so full of joy with each other. The couple who still love each other.
The silence has been broken, too. There I was, fully intending to take your, and particularly Jem's, advice, when the situation righted itself. A spent the whole of Friday evening in the same room as me. We had dinner, watched a DVD, reminisced about our recent holiday, played with my darling little cat, shared the washing up. The weekend was more of the same. I know that I should still talk to him, but while the good stuff is going on, I don't want to.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
