and last night i cried while talking about olivia.
about how much i love her and her little heart stickers.
mostly though, it was the realization - she loves me too.
she loves me too.
we were out on the deck with orion and the trees.
he kept sayin': bobby is so infatuated with you.
i kept sayin': i know. i know.
(and it breaks my heart.)
so we talked about never wanting to marry again.
kids. relationships. telling it like it is. being over fourty.
and bucket lists.
then - how attractive i was.
how attracted he was to my attractiveness.
that i am a good person.
(that always hurts for some reason).
and: geeze gillian, you just don't get it, do you?
when i told him i hadn't been laid in two years,
he covered his ears, and in mantra-mono-tone, mumbled:
you are not telling me this. you are not telling me this.
you are not telling me this.
i say: i am telling you this.
because i am not just gonna give it up. ya know.
not now. not after all of this time.
(a sort of: self-imposed
whore-looking-for-redemption kinda thing.)
youre so beautifully real.
i dont think i could put a convo on a page and make it something others could read.
especially not one as intimate as this.
and i wonder whether i'll have the same convo's when im over forty that i have over thirty or whether the priorites will have changed.
whether i will regret my persistence in wanting children or whether my husband will be glad he finally gave in and gave me my wish.
i know when i was twenty and having "deep meaningfuls" they were a lot deeper than the kids i work with now who are in their twenties but theyre nothing like the settle down start a family bandwagon of my thirties...
i digress. i always do.
i say i am telling you this coz sometimes things need to be acknowledged; said out loud. because sometimes you cannot believe what you hear yourself saying. because sometimes leaving it unsaid makes it way bigger and statuesque.
so this is what it feels like to be a fly on the wall...