When I came home Thursday afternoon, our change in travel plans brought us in a few hours earlier than RS would be off work. From 2:30 until 5:00, I counted down, minute by minute. Turns out RS wouldn't be home until nearly 5:45 that night, and those extra forty-five minutes seemed an eternity. When he did finally make it home, the wait was certainly worth it – I wrapped my legs around him and made him carry me around while he tried to unload his work gear.
We’ve spent the past few days perpetually intertwined, holding hands and exchanging displays of affection anytime and anywhere. We’re having sex in much the same way - whenever there’s a moment we can sneak away, off we go.
We’ve also rekindled our love of morning sex – there’s absolutely nothing better than falling asleep after sex and waking right back up to it.
I’m getting back into the swing of regular day to day life. I’m answering emails again and thinking about my exams at the end of the week. I haven’t unpacked yet, and each morning I promise RS that today’s the day it will get done, but five days later, it’s still sitting there.
Perhaps I’m trying to hold on to my vacation as a reminder of the power of space and distance in a relationship and the loss of the erotic in the face of constant availability and perpetual accessibility. Perhaps that bag laying sprawled across the bedroom floor is a reminder that it doesn’t take much to reignite passion and affection, and I’m trying to hold onto that for as long as possible.
Or I’m just lazy as shit some days.
Perhaps today will be the day it finally gets done.
FAITHFULLY YOURS,
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