No this isn’t about drinking, but love can be like an addiction, and just as hard to keep away from, even when you know it’s bad for you.
“Just get through these 8 hours without picking up the phone.” Sleep, read, try to write (or maybe, do write, and write well, since it’s Smut Marathon deadline time.) Distract oneself. Stay away from the phone. One hour, one day, at a time.
The reality is – and one reason it is ending – is because, really, there are only two days – make that two evenings – per week to make it through, when I’d normally be with him. Because, bottom line, even after all this time – 4 years! – we are still only permitted two 12 hour blocks of time per week together. And that just isn’t enough to build a full relationship on, and I am tired of fighting about it.
If only he had kept it just play partners. If he hadn’t insisted on more, that it was more, created the illusion of more, without being able to deliver the substance. But that was never possible (pro tip, kids: get everyone together, in one place, to define what each party wants in a relationship, how each party defines poly, what the parameters are.) Because what he said he wanted, what he said she was okay with, wasn’t ever the same. I’ve known it for a long time, I’ve just been willfully blind to the truth.
Because being desired.
Because sex and kink.
Because age and fear of being alone.
But now…I just have to get through tonight without messaging him. I should be glad that even at this extreme juncture in our relationship, I don’t have to worry about him messaging or calling or – god forbid – actually showing up to try to convince me otherwise.
It’s not his sanctioned timeframe for contact with me, ‘natch.