That Kind of Party–Part II


That Kind of Party, Part I

I couldn’t breathe. I literally could not breathe. It wasn’t warm out anymore, but I rolled down my window and tried desperately to get my lungs to inflate. I started to dry-sob. I felt like I might puke. I asked Papa Bear to open the other windows, and when that didn’t work, to open the moon roof.

We were on the highway and I just needed him to pull over so I could get out of the car. “Can you find a gas station?” I gasped. He said, with a look of absolute panic on his face, that he would pull over as soon as he found one.

It was clear he hadn’t the slightest idea what to do.

When he finally found a place to stop, I got out of the car, told him to stay where he was, and ran inside for a pack of cigarettes. I have been trying very hard not to smoke, but this was an emergency. I sat outside the car, on the curb, and smoked one, and then another, and slowly my heart-rate returned to normal.

I walked slowly towards the car, got in, and then said “So you’re a dom now?”

Papa Bear is my “Daddy”, as we refer to it in kink circles. But he could never really do the dom thing. He helps me be disciplined in areas of my life that I need it, and he takes care of me and nurtures my inner baby girl. But he has made it clear from the start–even when The Ex-Wifey discovered she was a submissive and wanted him to beat her–that he is not dominant in that way. We actually took almost 6 months off from our Daddy/Baby Girl relationship when things were bad with The Wifey, and had just started dipping our toes back into him being my Daddy again. So all I could think was “But he will dom Nerd Girl. For HER, he’s a dom!?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not a dom now.”

“Then what the hell?? Why the hell did you nod when she asked if you would go down the dom road with her!?”

“It was awkward. She said it in front of you guys and I didn’t want to be like ‘Um, hold up, no’. I figured I’d sort it out with her next time we talk. And I kind of thought she was just asking if its okay that she’s a submissive, not that she wants me to be her dom.”

“Well, no,” I said. “That’s not how she put it. She asked you to ‘go down that road’ with her. She obviously thinks you’re her dom now.”

He said he had no intention of being her dom, or anyone else’s. “I had fun with her,” he said, “but flogging her did nothing for me. I wasn’t even a little bit turned on, even though she was buck ass naked and moaning like crazy. It’s not my thing.”

“Then why does she need a special name for you? Why does she now, after one night, need you to have a Dom title?”

“That freaked me out too,” he said. “She should just call me my name. I don’t want a title with anyone but you.”

I calmed down by a fraction of a decibel.

“What else upset you?” he asked.

“Well, you didn’t use a condom,” I said. “You said you would use a condom with anyone else, and you didn’t. So I guess you’ll need to buy some to use with me, since you want to be fluid-bonded with her now.”

He apologized profusely. He said it was idiotic. That he put the condom on, and it came off, and then he didn’t grab another one. He said there was no excuse. He promised it wouldn’t happen again.

But I couldn’t stop shaking and my teeth kept chattering.

“What else?” he asked.

“She wants to come spend nights at your house so she doesn’t have to go home from work? You just moved out! We literally just got to a place where we don’t need to wait til your wife is out to see each other, and you said I could come over after work, or spend the night and go to work from your place in the morning, and now she thinks she should be doing that? I have been waiting this entire relationship to get to have that kind of time with you, and after one night, she gets to reap the benefits of all our pain and all the hard decisions we’ve made, and now I have to check with you to find out if Nerd Girl is coming over before I can!?”

“No,” he said. “I told her when we chatted last week, that I am not looking for another girlfriend, and that’s still true. I have been waiting so long for us to be able to have to space to just be together. I love how easy it has been since I moved out, and how happy we have been, and I have no intention of suddenly having another woman staying over at my place all the time.”

“She already wants to see you on Friday. That’s the only night I can stay over when we don’t have to rush because of everyone’s work schedule. You said I could spend Friday night. Why does she think she is spending Friday night?”

“I have no idea,”he said. “She had already asked me about my schedule when we were in bed. I told her that the only night I have free this week is Friday, and that I usually spend Fridays with you.”

“Then why did she say that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, looking truly confused. “But her intensity is freaking me out.”

“Do you want to spend Friday night with her?” I asked quietly. “I’m not going to pull rank and say you can’t if that’s what you want to do.”

“No,” he said emphatically. “I’m not going to say I would never go out with anyone else on a Friday night, but right now you and I need that time. And I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to give it up. And I just met her. I don’t know her. ”

Yet,” I said.

“Look,” he told me. “The first time you and I were together, something amazing happened between us. We clicked and we connected in so many ways. I knew you were my soul mate, even if I couldn’t put it into words. Even before we met, even when we were just chatting on OkCupid and texting, I felt like I knew you. I don’t feel that way about her. And even though you and I might start dating other people eventually, I have no desire to do that right now. We need space and time to figure out how to just be together. You are my world.”

We were driving now, but I asked him to pull over. I said I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know whether I should go home and be by myself, or go with him. I didn’t know whether we should try to talk this out, or just move on from it.

We got out of the car. He said he still wanted to talk. And in the distance, I spotted blue and green colours dancing across the sky. On our second date, we’d tried to find them, but couldn’t. That was the night he was talking about–the night we ended up on top of each other in the backseat, with our souls fused.

“Do you want to go see the Northern Lights?” I asked.

“Really?” he said, looking relieved and grateful.

“Really,” I answered.

And so we did.

He Moved Out


Papa Bear moved out.

He has been in his new apartment a week today.

He tells me he is so, incredibly happy. And he seems happy. He gets to wake up later in the morning because he doesn’t have to make coffee for the Ex-Wifey before he leaves for work. His commute is shorter and easier. And he is way closer to where I live.

Instead of getting home from work and dreading what he is going to be in trouble for now, or what he is going to have to do for the Ex-Wifey, he just comes home and does whatever he wants. He relaxes. Or takes a nap. Or puts together furniture in his underwear. Or walks around naked.

Freedom, bitches!

His apartment is nice. It’s small, but new. Hardwood floors and lots of windows, in a high rise downtown with a gym and a pool. He is excited to have my kids over to swim.

Still, sometimes, the immensity of what has happened overcomes him. Still he tells me, sometimes he wonders “What have I done?”

I understand. Who wouldn’t have those reservations? What kind of person would leave a 20+ year marriage without some second thoughts? When he feels that though, he reminds himself of how bad it was. And of everything he has gained. And the panic slowly fades.

He says I am the most important thing in the world to him. I think its because I support his freedom, and respect his autonomy. Also, of course,  is our amazing, heart-stopping, intense connection that just continues to grow and grow.

We are both so relieved–if that’s an appropriate word to use. We just want to be together, without having to walk on egg shells, or wait for permission, or feel guilty. He tells me he is excited about our life together, and being able to define it without a bunch of constraints.

I agree. We are soul mates. And now we can stop pretending that that doesn’t matter.

You do You


I keep having arguments with her in my head. Telling her what I want to say, imagining her response, and trying to refute it. It’s a habit I developed back when I figured that one day, for sure, we would have to sit down and hash things out. That there was no way we could move forward without doing that–without at least being heard.

Hearing from Papa Bear, however, what she thinks and feels about me, makes it clear that no amount of talking would make any difference. He says that once she has made up her mind about a person’s actions and motivations, there is no convincing her otherwise. I find this maddening, but I guess in a way its also freeing. Because it doesn’t matter what I do or say, I’m going to be the villain–so I don’t have to worry about what I do or say.

She believes that every action I have taken, every move I have made in my relationship with Papa Bear, has been carefully and methodically calculated in order to drive them apart.

She is still angry about the time she invited us to dinner, when we were on a date, and then suggested twice that if I was cold I go sit outside. She firmly believes that the reason I actually went and sat outside, was to snub her, and to take Papa Bear away from her (even though I told him to go ahead and stay inside with her). Apparently when she said she’d like to cook dinner for us, she meant she’d like all of us to cook dinner together, and I was rude for leaving. There is no room in her mind to accept the fact that maybe it was a misunderstanding.

She maintains that she is baffled–baffled!–as to why I would have got my feelings hurt over not being invited to their movie night at Christmas. The fact that this was a tradition that included all their friends, for years, and I wasn’t invited, should not have been hurtful to me. The fact that she and her boyfriend and his wife, sat three feet across from me and discussed it, knowing I would hear, knowing that I wasn’t welcome, should not have hurt me.  Because it is their family event, and they have the right to decide who is invited and who isn’t, and the fact that I made a big deal out of this just shows that I do not respect their marriage. Papa Bear told her that I did not “make a big deal”–that it was a big deal, because I was actively hurt by her actions, but she refuses to see that she did anything wrong.

There is so much more that she is still angry about. The time that Papa Bear and I were 20 minutes late bringing food to the games night, even though we already had plans to hang out with someone else, and rudely and hurtfully cut it short because The Wifey decided to hold an event that same night that Papa Bear was required to be at. She is fuming because people were waiting, and refuses to see that she had no business requiring us to cut our plan short after an hour so we could be there for what she was doing.

In this entire thing–as it relates to me, but also, worse, as it relates to her relationship with Papa Bear–she has not apologized. Not once. She does not believe anything she did was wrong. She places the blame squarely on us, and mostly on me.

I would love to just move on. I would love to just sigh and say its in the past. But unfortunately, even though I have not seen her in months, she is still very much a part of my life, because she is a part of Papa Bear’s life. Before the break-up, she told him that she could not handle having me in the house while she was in the house. I did not want to be in the house with her either, but instead of merely going out whenever I planned to be there, she now wants Papa Bear to plan when he sees me according to when she has other plans. Papa Bear says he will give her a month as of the day of the break-up, but after that, she is just going to have to deal.

When I’m there, though, I feel like an intruder. Like I don’t have the right to be there. Papa Bear and I decorated our bedroom at his place to look like a cabin, and that is the only place in the house where I don’t feel on edge. On the weekend we spent some time in the living/dining room, and I remained perched on a dining chair, even though my body hurt, because I didn’t feel like I could sit on her couch. I don’t like using the bathroom where her vast collection of necklaces hang on display. I prefer to drink coffee only from the mug that I bought Papa Bear.

I wish he would move, but I know its complicated. I also know its his decision, and I’m not going to push him, because any decision he makes about any of it, needs to be 100% his. He confided to me that every option terrifies him. Staying in the house. Renovating the basement so they can rent it to cover the mortgage and house taxes and he can afford his own place. Selling and being buried in tens of thousands of fees from the bank. Renting the whole house and forcing her to leave her “dream home.” All of these options sound like crap to him.

So I just need to wait and see what happens, like I did when he and his wife were trying to work things out. Be silent, be supportive, wait and see. Like I’m doing while they are trying to see if they can be friends. Like I am doing to see how long he will let her tell him when I can and can’t be in the house. Like I am doing with all of it.

When the anxiety gets to be too much, I think about making another appointment with my therapist. I lose myself in a good novel. I go for a walk and let the fresh air and sunshine do their work. I talk to a friend. I blog. I clean the apartment from top to bottom. I tell Papa Bear how I feel, but not what to do. I let him do him, and I do me.

Thank god for Therapists


The Wifey has finally decided to go to therapy. I sincerely hope it helps, though part of me is afraid she will present a skewed view of things. Her boyfriend suggested it, which is great, because Papa Bear knew if he suggested it she’d bite his head off while digging in her heels. I believe she starts next week, and Papa Bear meets his therapist for the first time tomorrow.

Their relationship at the moment is…undefined? She told him awhile ago that she couldn’t have a romantic relationship with him right now because she can’t keep waiting for him to prioritize her, and then getting disappointed when he doesn’t. He is understandably frustrated by this, not because of her desire to take a break and live as domestic partners only, but because he knows he has prioritized her, over and over, but she only seems to see the times he doesn’t. It’s painful to hear about, because I have personally been hurt by her demanding to get her way, so many times, and Papa Bear has been hurt immeasurably as well, but her perspective doesn’t seem to register those times at all.

Anyway. I am just trying to tell myself that it is not my problem. I cannot control either of them. 6 months ago this situation would have had me sobbing on the floor, banging my fists, but now I just kind of nod sadly. Waiting to see what will happen. Waiting to see if professional intervention will help. Waiting to see if this situation has any future at all.

I think we are all scared, but I know I can’t imagine how scared either of them must be. Losing a relationship with someone you love is devastating, but its not the same as losing your home and your family and your shared history and any idea of what the future might look like.

I have seriously considered breaking it off–just removing myself from the situation entirely–but Papa Bear assures me that isn’t going to fix them. I have to say I agree with him. These problems–the issues of control and poor communication and not knowing where one person ends and another begins–they have been there all along. And that, I am certain, is one of the reasons The Wifey is not coping at all. Papa Bear told her last year that he had always just gone along with what she wanted, and she had said that wasn’t good and he should speak up. But I don’t think she was prepared for how she’d feel when he did, because whenever he makes a case for what he wants, she becomes angry and defensive and refuses to see his point. She just says, over and over, that he doesn’t care about her, or that her feelings are just as valid as his. And the logical conclusion, from her point of view, is that if her feelings are equally valid then they must be the only feelings that are honored.

He recently told her, after the whole Movie Night Fiasco of 2015, just how subjugated and controlled he always felt. That his opinion was completely invalidated, at all times, throughout their entire marriage. That “they” made major decisions that he did not want to make, because she refused to see his point of view, or to compromise with him. And this conversation didn’t go over well. She said it was his fault, and she hoped he could change. And I agree to a certain extent that it is not good to cave to someone over and over and over, until suddenly you are standing in the middle of a life in a house you didn’t want, with a cat you didn’t want, driving a car you can’t afford, living in a city you didn’t want to live in. But her main takeaway, is that their entire relationship, and whole life, has been a lie.

Has it?

He assures her he never lied about loving her, or how he felt about their family, or wanting to be with her. But I can see how she would feel like their foundation is cracking when she realizes that she has no idea if the major pieces of their life are things that he ever wanted in the first place.

Yet. It’s not like he never voiced his opinion. He did, and he does. It’s just that when she argues back with all of the reasons why he is wrong an his opinion is illogical or not valid, he becomes exhausted, and it’s just easier to agree with her. How could any self-aware, empathetic person not realize what was happening? How could you not understand that badgering someone into submission didn’t necessarily mean they agreed with you?

The Husband is the same way. He has always put other peoples’ needs and wants first. And it was a major struggle to get him to voice his true opinion about things, because he believes he does not matter. I have spent years coaxing him into just telling me what he wants, what he really thinks, how he really feels. I do not shout and him and tell him he’s not communicating, and then tell him his ideas are “dumb” or that he’s “an idiot”, when he is honest with me. I tell him I really need to know his opinion, and then when he gives it to me, I consider it. I do not become angry precisely because his feelings are just as valid as mine.

Papa Bear has thanked me over and over again for being kind to him. For being so patient. For being willing to put up with this. The fact is, I do it because he is patient and kind with me. It makes me so sad that he views kindness as a special favor–something he does not deserve. He tells me that he knows on a logical level that he matters, but because of the way he is treated in his marriage, he doesn’t really believe that he does.

I don’t know what is going to happen. Sometimes there is a reasonable hope that things will get better. Other times I am 99% sure they will close their marriage and leave me out in the cold. Other times I’m really not sure they will last–or if they even want to. I do know for sure that if something important doesn’t change in the next few months, I won’t be able to manage.

Lately we have just been arranging it so that I’m not around when she’s home. It has actually been really peaceful for me. Sometimes when I make plans to be at Papa Bear’s house and she is going to be there, she will go sleep over with her boyfriend instead. Sometimes when we know she is going to be home we just plan dinner and a movie, with blankets in the back of the car in case we need to screw!

The Wifey told him that obviously, the way they have conducted their marriage in the past isn’t working, so if they want to stay together, they need to approach it from a different place. Papa Bear agrees, and so do I.

I think that assertion–that they need to tear it apart, so they can rebuild, is the one thing that makes me believe that everything could work out.

Here’s hoping, and thank god for therapists.


I Choose You


I’ve been wanting to write; my head and heart are full. It’s just that there is so much, I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to string it all together into a coherent whole. As my brain is currently fried from late nights and a kid-centric weekend, I’m just going to go ahead and start. Stream of consciousness, bitches.

This morning I had a chat with The Hubby. It was brought on by something that Papa Bear and The Wifey have discussed a few times. I’m not even sure how to say it–how can I even put the words down without it coming out wrong? Without it being scary or painful? Without it seeming like this is something that could possibly actually happen? Without it seeming like I want it to happen, when in reality, it makes my chest ache?

It’s this: The Wifey and Papa Bear. . .both feel that. . .if one of them was to leave the other. . .they’d be fine. They’d be sad and it would feel like a loss, but they would respect that decision and know it would not be the end of the world.

When he told me that. . .I felt. . .afraid. Like, what? It’s just that, the concept of poly, has changed how they think about things. If they were monogamous, and they were to consider splitting, it would likely be because of differences they have, that are causing grief. And in that case, Papa Bear said, they’d fight hard for that. They’d go to counselling. They’d want to do whatever possible to save it, because you don’t throw relationships away just because they get hard, if both of you are willing to make a good, solid effort.

With our situation. . .if The Wifey was leaving Papa Bear because she truly felt she would be happier spending the rest of her life living with one of her Boyfriends. . .then Papa Bear thinks. . .what could he do? He thinks that, protesting that, would be selfish. It would be putting his marriage, and his claim to her, above her own happiness and well-being. In his words, doing so would make him a bad partner. He would rather not be a partner, than be a selfish one.

Okay. That makes sense. It is logical. And The Wifey says she agrees, but I feel like her agreement is more in theory. She is still struggling hard with how serious Papa Bear and I are. She says she loves that he loves me. She loves how we connect. She loves how happy I make him. But she worries that he doesn’t feel that way about her. And so. . .while logically she may agree that the happiness of people comes before preserving relationships, I really don’t think she’d be as okay with it as she says.

But like I said above? This entire line of inquiry makes me ill. So naturally, after having had this same conversation with Papa Bear a number of times (when other discussions have have just led there), I carefully broached the subject with my own husband.

First, I asked him if he felt he needed me.

“. . .Does it matter how I answer this?,” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I’m fine either way. I just want to know how you feel.”

“No,” he said.” I don’t feel like I need a relationship. When we first got together, I would have said ‘Yes, I need you.’ But I think that’s because I was convinced that everyone needs a relationship to be happy.”

I nodded. “I agree. I don’t think you need one either. Some people just don’t. And honestly, if you’d known yourself better before we got married, I don’t think we actually would have.”

“That’s why I’m not interested in dating,” he said. “The last thing I need is more relationships. It’s nothing personal, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you; I’m just happier when I’m alone.”

I knew it was true. And the only reason it hurt, is because that means that by being with him, I am actually preventing him from being his happiest, most authentic self. He’s a loner. Always has been. Of course, when there are kids in the picture, there’s nothing that can be done about that while said kids are still young.

Next, I asked, carefully,” So. . .how would you feel–assuming the kids weren’t a factor–if we didn’t live together anymore?”

He said he’d be fine. It would be “unfortunate”, in a way–the end of an era–but that he doesn’t need to live with me.

I get it. He is who he is. He wants to live alone.

My eyes welled up.

“How would you feel if that happened?,” he asked.

And I answered honestly. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose my family. As long as we could still spend holidays together, meet up with the kids at the cabin for a week or two in the summer, as long as you and I were still close, and we were still a family, I’d be fine.”

He said he felt the same. As long as we are still in each others lives, it doesn’t matter who is living with who, or who is primary and who isn’t. It does matter, though. It matters to me. Not because I feel like I NEED to live with my husband and have him as a primary partner in order to be happy. But because I literally know nothing else. He has been my partner in life for the past ten years. I would really miss him if we didn’t share a home anymore–for the simple fact that he has been a constant. It would be like losing one of your senses, or moving to another country where you don’t speak the language–totally disorienting.

I guess this is as good a place as any to segue into Papa Bear’s response to the letter I wrote him the other night–the one about whether he’d break up with me if that was what The Wifey wanted. His response was that, if forced to choose, regardless of who was forcing his hand–he’d choose the one who had not issued the ultimatum. He does not think it would be possible for him to be happy in a relationship with someone who forced him to give up someone else that he loved. The resentment would just deepen and deepen until there was no room for anything else.

As far as what he’d do if he just knew The Wifey would never be totally happy again while he was in an intense, loving relationship with someone else? He said that we are all responsible for our own happiness. That regardless of which one of us was unhappy–whether it was The Wifey or I, who were wanting him all to ourselves–that it is not his responsibility to cut off people he loves in order to placate someone else. As long as he is being attentive and loving, then it is the responsibility of the individual to work through their feelings of displeasure or jealousy or entitlement.

That made me feel better. His response was wise, and I appreciate his measured approach, and the fact that he would not just cut me out of his life in order to stop The Wifey from feeling insecure or unhappy.

That said, The Wifey has seemed much happier the past few times I saw her. She was working through some things–and still is–but she is doing better. I think we will be okay.

In other news, Papa Bear and I have booked our vacation for my 30th birthday weekend–four days of just him and me. Yay! We can’t wait!

We’ve also talked again about having a hand-fasting. Papa Bear wants to do it soon, but I feel like we should wait. I would like everyone (ie, The Wifey) to be totally okay and comfortable with it. I know that right now, if Papa Bear were to tell her that he wanted to have a commitment ceremony with me, she would lose her ever-loving shit.

I also think it would make more sense to do it later–when we are in a place where we can actually make some of the changes we want to, to our relationship. Whether its right before my family and I move to a house within walking distance of Papa Bear so we can see each other every day, or whether it’s after the kids move out and I can live at Papa Bear’s part-time, or after we win the lottery and buy a giant multi-family mansion (a girl can dream, right!?), I do not want it to just be symbolic. I want it to accompany real, lasting changes to our partnership and our life.

It’s interesting to me, how the songs Papa Bear and I have considered “ours”, have evolved as our relationship has.

At first, “our song”, was Shower by BeckyG. It’s kind of embarassing haha, but it about being so happy that you dance in the mirror and sing in the shower. That definitely characterized us in the beginning.

Then, it was Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran. This one still makes us turn up the volume, stop talking, and hold each other. It’s about falling in love–that feeling of just being lost in each other. “Kiss me like you want to be loved.”

Now? The song we love the most, is I Choose You, by Sara Bareilles. Last night we listened to every version of it we could find. Our eyes welled up. The video in particular was so touching, because it features two actual proposals–two couples got engaged on video while Sara played.

There was a time when I would have believed them
If they told me you could not come true
Just love’s illusion
But then you found me and everything changed
And I believe in something again

My whole heart
Will be yours forever
This is a beautiful start
To a lifelong love letter

Tell the world that we finally got it all right
I choose you
I will become yours and you will become mine
I choose you
I choose you

We wish we could get married. That it was legal, or practical, or possible. But it’s hard to even care about that when we’re together. He makes me sing in the shower. I love him. I choose him–and he chooses me.

He Sees Me

artist: Tzviatko Kinchev, 2011

artist: Tzviatko Kinchev, 2011

Papa Bear played this song for me tonight. It was the first time I’d heard it, but its me, to a T. The notes floated through the room, and I bathed his face in kisses, clinging to him like we were drifting through space and we’d fly apart if either of us let go.

“Thank you for seeing me,” I said.

“Thank you for letting me.”

“Thank you for letting me fight with you,” he said.

“Thank you for fighting with me.”

“She looks at the rain as it pours. And she fights for her life.Nobody knows.”

Sun been down for days
A pretty flower in a vase
A slipper by the fireplace
A cello lying in its case

Soon she’s down the stairs
Her morning elegance she wears
The sound of water makes her dream
Awoken by a cloud of steam
She pours a daydream in a cup
A spoon of sugar sweetens up

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And she goes…
Nobody knows

Sun been down for days
A winter melody she plays
The thunder makes her contemplate
She hears a noise behind the gate
Perhaps a letter with a dove
Perhaps a stranger she could love

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And she goes…
Nobody knows
Nobody knows

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
Where the people are pleasently strange
And counting the change
And she goes…
Nobody knows
Nobody knows
Nobody knows

P.S. Watch the video. Seriously!!!

Drowning in Love

Love changes you. Mine changed Papa Bear. He finished my book of letters in a day, and things were immediately different–cemented.

He has all of me–my everything. A dam broke.

We were in bed, loving each other madly. Inch by inch, then all at once.

“I wish I could be with you all the time,” he said. “I have grown around you. It doesn’t matter where I am, or what I’m doing–if you’re not there I’m missing you. It hurts.”

“Never let me go,” I whispered.

“I wish there were better words to describe. . .this. How I need you. How you make me feel. How I’m jealous over you.I want all of you. All your curves and all your edges,” he said, quoting a favourite song of ours.

“Sing me a song,” I said.

“Right now?”

I nodded sleepily.

He half-murmured, half-sang a children’s song about a kitty.

I laughed and shook my head. And then, in a voice that was still husky from sickness and sex, I sang him a love song.

“If you are falling. . .then I would catch you. You need a light. . .I’ll find a match. Cause I. . .love you more than I could ever promise. . .and you. . .take me the way I am.”

“Oh. . .my. . .god. . .” he said.

I smiled my half smile that is only for him. “What?”

“I have never known passion like this,” he half spoke, half-growled.

There was kissing. Touching. The raking of fingers through hair. Over and over and over, the words “I don’t want to let you go.”

Then he drove me home, and there were no more words besides those we sang to each other, with the I-pod, set to “sappy and raw”, as back-up.

Everything has changed.

We’re not falling in love, anymore. We’re drowning in it.