I woke up in love this morning...
But everything went to hell after that. Let me back up, to the wee small hours, first...
I told Tommy I wouldn’t bother him, but I was sitting in bed glued to Fox News & feeling so much love for him & pain for the horror they’re experiencing I had to call, knowing he’d be asleep & I’d get his voicemail. Said "Hey Tommy James, it’s me, Jeannie Jennifer" (pet nicknames we've recently given each other). "I know I said I wouldn’t bug you, which is why I’m calling so late & talking to your voicemail. Hope you’re good, not too beat up, & that everything’s coming together at the house. But, in the immortal words of my then-five-year-old brother-in-law, 'I want wif you!' Just want you to know I’m thinking of you. A lot. Be safe, & call when you get a chance. Love you bye." Short, sweet, heartfelt…
Even though I didn’t sleep very long, I woke up with a smile on my face & that tingly feeling you get when you’re sleeping next to someone you love—as well as feeling I’d also been seriously made love to. I rolled over to put my arm around him, but he wasn’t there. Huh? What happened to me between two forty-five & seven fifteen? Where did I go? Did I astral project over to Louisiana, crawl into bed with him as he lay sleeping, & make love to him? (Note I did not say 'fuck' this time—fucking is a sexual act, driven by nothing more than animal magnetism, whereas making love is when two souls long to be one and join together—with a vast amount of love & passion & tenderness—& thrust as far into each other’s centers as they can possibly get—in order to touch each other’s soul...) I have never just fucked Tommy...
I truly believed—after the incredibly loving message I left on his voicemail early this morning—that he would have called back. Immediately. If only long enough to say ‘Thanks, sweetheart, that was beautiful.’ Had I been on the receiving end of such a message, I would have called the moment I got it. But it appears I am on the giving—not receiving—end with him yet once again. It is now almost midnight, & my phone has not made one single peep all day…
Maybe my service isn’t working?!?
Worse, maybe something is terribly wrong over there. But I can’t even think about that possibility...refuse to go there at all…
It’s my ex-husband’s birthday today. Don’t know what caused that to pop into my mind—except, perhaps, because I used his youngest brother’s long-ago words to me in my message to Tommy this morning—'I want wif you...' Anyway— happy birthday, Patrick...
I told Tommy I wouldn’t bother him, but I was sitting in bed glued to Fox News & feeling so much love for him & pain for the horror they’re experiencing I had to call, knowing he’d be asleep & I’d get his voicemail. Said "Hey Tommy James, it’s me, Jeannie Jennifer" (pet nicknames we've recently given each other). "I know I said I wouldn’t bug you, which is why I’m calling so late & talking to your voicemail. Hope you’re good, not too beat up, & that everything’s coming together at the house. But, in the immortal words of my then-five-year-old brother-in-law, 'I want wif you!' Just want you to know I’m thinking of you. A lot. Be safe, & call when you get a chance. Love you bye." Short, sweet, heartfelt…
Even though I didn’t sleep very long, I woke up with a smile on my face & that tingly feeling you get when you’re sleeping next to someone you love—as well as feeling I’d also been seriously made love to. I rolled over to put my arm around him, but he wasn’t there. Huh? What happened to me between two forty-five & seven fifteen? Where did I go? Did I astral project over to Louisiana, crawl into bed with him as he lay sleeping, & make love to him? (Note I did not say 'fuck' this time—fucking is a sexual act, driven by nothing more than animal magnetism, whereas making love is when two souls long to be one and join together—with a vast amount of love & passion & tenderness—& thrust as far into each other’s centers as they can possibly get—in order to touch each other’s soul...) I have never just fucked Tommy...
I truly believed—after the incredibly loving message I left on his voicemail early this morning—that he would have called back. Immediately. If only long enough to say ‘Thanks, sweetheart, that was beautiful.’ Had I been on the receiving end of such a message, I would have called the moment I got it. But it appears I am on the giving—not receiving—end with him yet once again. It is now almost midnight, & my phone has not made one single peep all day…
Maybe my service isn’t working?!?
Worse, maybe something is terribly wrong over there. But I can’t even think about that possibility...refuse to go there at all…
It’s my ex-husband’s birthday today. Don’t know what caused that to pop into my mind—except, perhaps, because I used his youngest brother’s long-ago words to me in my message to Tommy this morning—'I want wif you...' Anyway— happy birthday, Patrick...
posted by UptownGrrl at 11:37 PM
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