Last night I was accused (light-heartedly) of ‘pining’ for Brett now that he’s back in parts foreign. For some reason that conversation was running through my head this morning and I was trying to pin down exactly how I do feel when he’s away.
It’s certainly not a dramatic thing; I am not sitting forlorn at home every night, sniffling for the absence of my beloved. It’s a far more subtle loss than that.
We are not a very talkative couple when he’s at home (or perhaps I should say that I am not a very talkative person and he doesn’t seem to mind, or at least hasn’t complained yet) but we are a very tactile couple. If any previous boyfriends happen to be reading this, they will probably find that surprising, as I have never been very touchy-feely in the past. But with Brett I am.
When he’s not there, it’s not a big thing in itself; I don’t feel a huge pang when I get home and he’s not about. Getting into bed on my own isn’t a major trauma.
It’s more an accumulation of the little things; missing the good-morning kiss, saying goodbye when he leaves for work, giving his shoulders a quick rub when he’s working at his desk, the casual touches as we move around the flat, the hugs, the quick kisses, watching TV with him in my arms, our strangely predictable routine for falling asleep together. It all adds up into a nagging absence at the back of my mind, in the pit of my stomach; a slowly building tension which is only released when he comes home on a Friday night and I can hold him again.
So maybe I am pining after all.
1 comment:
Sounds like lurrrvvve to me, honeybun.
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