Haunting....

Faced down some demons last night -some mine, some not - got up unrested, as really, I don’t consider laying in an unfamiliar bed, next to someone else, who’s facing away from me, terribly restfull. Nor, does it count for actual sleeping time. I’d too many ghosts to slay for that. She was standing by the bedside, what I suppose would be her side, and me? The interloper? Well. I got asked this am if I wanted to see a photo of her; I replied, thank you no - totally skipping the why do I need confirmation about who was staring at me all night long??? It was creepy, in the same way I suppose, that anyone entering into my bedroom, aka the Sacred Untouched Shrine, might feel as well. I always sleep on the side of the bed nearest the door - makes it easier to catch small foreign bodies that fling themselves willy-nilly over the duvet, or, to assist in the letting out of the Great Small Bladdered Danes currently residing here again. Either way, by default? That other side of the bed? I suppose it goes by the moniker of his side.

Maybe that would be weird for someone else - but I’m not too sure that guys see it that way. I think they’re slightly more focused, more pragmatic: they don’t care which side of the bed they’re on, so long as they’re in bed, with a possibly (or soon to be possibly) naked woman, they skip all inuendos regarding bedside ownership.

I envy that.

Then again, she hasn’t been gone all that long; her presence still lingered, bitterly in the hall, clung to the cornice, slipped from the bathroom mirror when I went to brush my teeth, with his toothbrush. He may have picked me up some contact stuff, but, well, my oral hygiene got left to my own devices. I’m not squeamish: if I can happily slurp down water sporting the backwash remnants from being shared, surely, a little toothbrush action isn’t beneath me. But she was still there. The funny part? He gets it that the house doesn’t feel like home anymore, but he cannot place why - and my guess? Again, a girl thing. He wants warmth, and light, airy coziness that screams Sink Into This Couch! Cook A Meal At This Counter! Spend Time With Me!! - but he’s yet to get that he’s got to get rid of the 12 years of relationship detritus that goes along with her removing what furniture she wanted: which, should you be curious? Is damn near all.

I like him. Really. I do. But I’m not sure I’m cut out for this part - being the stronger of the two - will he realize that I’m just as fragile as he? That I need the kid gloves too? Oh, he gets it, I’m not a morning person, and my bedhead is indeed legendary. He’s accepting of the fact that I may indeed lay claim to all of my favorites of his button down shirts. I adore the way he dresses, and mostly, how he treats me like a queen - I just sometimes wish? He told me how great I looked a little more. But then, really, shouldn’t I be handling that myself? He’s attentive, he’s sweet. He’s NOT DF. Or J. Thank God, there was nary a tightie-whitie in view - I dug around in the closet when he wasn’t looking. I don’t consider it spying. More like……necessary checking. I know he’s holding back, just like me, and that’s okay too.

I suppose, I just wish I’d had the chance to spend the night with him without The Haunting.