That’s what today feels like: not quite real.
It’s been an exceptionally slow day here. I was very warm in my cube and falling asleep at my desk, so I got up and broke my two recents vows – no caffeine and no soda – in one fell swoop by going to the cafeteria and getting a mix of Barq’s root beer and Mr. Pibb. Sickeningly sweet, I know, but something drastic had to be done. I needed something cold and wet and caffeinated. That’s what called out to me as I stood in front of the soda machine.
I think about HSTeacher and there’s a part of me that feels as if he’s not quite real. I mean, I know that he is. When we’re together? It doesn’t get any more real. And when we’re apart, I have many pieces of evidence to prove his realness: text messages and voicemails on my cell phone; emails in my inbox; the iPod in my purse; this wonderful warm feeling that rises up in my chest and spreads a smile on my face – these are but a few of the bits of evidence floating about that prove he’s as real as real gets. Not to mention actual photos of us together.
As I said, the man is damned real.
Why do I feel today as if he’s just a fantasy I dreamed up? That I’m going to wake up any minute now and poof! I’ll be where I was last winter: unemployed, in my old North Hollywood apartment, with no gentleman on the horizon and coming to terms with the fact I’d be alone for the rest of my life.
I think it’s because I’m fricking tired right now. Nothing can seem real when eyelids want to close and body wants to curl up on the floor and float Z’s in the air.
But I also think it’s because I was without someone for so long. Almost nine and a half years. I spent pretty much all of my 30s without a relationship and now I’m learning to flex emotional muscles that hadn’t been flexed in ages. Luckily I haven’t entirely forgotten how. It’s almost like riding a bicycle – I haven’t fallen off too often. At least, not yet.
I gotta say, HSTeacher has perfect timing. As I was typing this out he returned a text message I’d sent him earlier. He’s pretty tuned into me, so perhaps he realized on some level that, as I was questioning his and my reality, he needed to furnish proof. Boy’s got skillz. Or just is really good with coincidences.
No matter. I know that someday this nebulous feeling will evaporate. I know that I’ll finally accept that I’m not too high maintenance – at least not for him – and that love has every right to exist in my life. I know that I’ll stop being amazed when I tell him that I love him or hear him tell me that he loves me. I hope that I don’t lose the wonder of love, but the amazement, the “there is no way this is happening – to me” sense will become an everyday beauty.
Until then, I’ll just have to keep looking at his picture. And reminding myself, “We’re real.”