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My Profile
Gift from Hil Part 2 - 2014-12-30
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9:10 p.m. - 2007-07-06
Zzzzzzzz��� The chronology might be off some, which matters little. Mostly I've been doing three things. Talking with Mick, making love with Mick and sleeping. Each contributes to the other two, every round of talk/sex/sleep spins the intimacy deeper. We've both agreed we've gotten to a new level of our relationship and it feels good. How else can I explain that after sleeping into the afternoon I woke to find Mick snugged in the bed next to me watching Wimbledon, stroking my hair and leaking slow tears? Happy tears. Just being there with me made him realize there's nothing more he could possibly want. After getting over the shock of sleeping past noon (at 6:30 I had gotten Wolf up, medicated, fed, washed and out to the bus and then gone back to bed) I offered a pancake brunch, but Mick insisted I stay where I was and relax. He disappeared downstairs and returned with supplies. I reclined in the bed like a queen and Mick fed me grapes. Each fruit plucked from its stem and inspected before he popped it into my mouth. God forbid I get a mushy bruised one. Perhaps that sounds silly and a bit extreme. To me it was an outward manifestation of how Mick truly feels about me. I matter that much. I stumble over this knowledge again and again. And every time I do it blows me away. It's the getting back part which astounds me. Giving what's needed and taking care of my family is what I do. I do it and do it and do it. Sometimes I got resentful because most of what I do is unseen and therefore 'didn't count' on the 'Mom's done enough and has earned the right not to be bitched at' scale established by Mike and carried on by my kids. It never occurred to me to be resentful that I never got taken care of in return, it was never an option. The best I ever got was to be left alone for 20 minutes or so. I'd catch a break and be free to take care of myself for a wee while. Now here's Mick. Mick who gives back. Mick who puts more Diet Coke in the fridge when he sees it's getting low. He never touches the stuff, but he makes damn sure I have a cold one waiting for me when I want it. When I open the fridge and reach out a fresh can, a can that wasn't there a few hours ago I cry with gratitude. Diet Coke, LA? What's the big deal? It's not the Diet Coke, it's what the Diet Coke means. It means I am being seen. It means somebody is paying attention to me and acknowledging I am a real person. One who has needs and wants of her own. For the first time in my life those needs and wants matter to someone. It's as important to Mick's happiness that he do for me as it is for me to do for him. Someone wants to take care of me. Someone wants me to have things. Someone is knocking himself out to please me. He remembers what flavors I like, how I take my tea, he makes the bed and knows which pillows I like and which one goes on top so when I get in the bed it's ready for me. I don't have to fuss and fluff and rearrange things. As I said above, so much of the care and effort I put into things like refilling the fridge and getting the pillows right has gone unseen so it's doubly important that Mick knows I do see what he does. I see the thought and attention and know it for what it is, which is love. During one of the recent conversations (or maybe it's one big lifelong convo with pauses to get everything else done during the breaks) I said something about how men see women as these impossible to fathom beings. Women and what they want is just too, too complex for any man to get it right, so why bother? I laughed and told him he'd gotten it right from the get-go. It wasn't hard. It wasn't a Gordian knot. Perhaps there were women who had impossible standards, but I'd lay money that most of the 'impossible' women simply wanted what he gave me so effortlessly. We just want to be seen. To have him notice. To notice the things we do. To understand the love behind the clean floor, the well-raised kids, the midnight blow-job. And to get some of that in return. To not be a stranger to the man we love. We want to see he that he knows we're allergic to strawberries and take our coffee with milk and two sugars. Mick smiled and said I made it easy. I was upfront and honest about myself and what I want from him. I don't leave him to guess and then smack him down if he gets it wrong. Any guy with half a brain would so know where he stood with me and how to please me. We both cracked up and said that's what Mike's problem was�he didn't even have half a brain. There's been some insinuations that I glommed onto the first guy who came along and dressed him in Prince Charming clothes so I wouldn't ever have to find out what it was like to be alone. So used to being married I couldn't bear the idea of being on my own and took a straw man and made him a lifemate. Settling yet once again because I am that much of a pathetic dumb-ass. Think what you will, you nay-sayers and grinches. Sneer and mock all you like. No skin off my ass or off those who truly love and care about me. I know the timing is outr� and it's easy to scoff, but I also know what I know. And what I know is that the love I'd been denied for my whole goddamn life is here now. The man who is going to be by my side forever showed up pronto and made it VERY clear he'd been waiting for me too.
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