Saturday, 20 March 2010

You made me forget my dreams, when I woke up to you sleeping…

Nothing could have prepared me for all the things I have felt over the last six days… absolutely nothing and no one. The rollercoaster of emotions and thoughts I have processed in just under a week does not compare in any way to any amusement or theme park ride… 

Friday-12th March
the day the muffin left Iraq destined for me… he and I hadn’t spoken much over the previous two days due to issues at his workies and him putting the final touches on the cake that would be his trip. Danie spent the ENTIRE day on tiny pins and needles awaiting any form of contact possible from her one and only. The first contact arrived in the form of an email at 09:27am saying he had arrived in Kuwait and he had done all his checkpoint stuff and had a sassy photo taken of himself. He said that he was to reconvene at 1400 my time for his itinerary and that he would let me know anything he could as soon after that as possible.
For the next four hours I was a disgusting trainwreck of a person to work with. I kept squealing to everyone that he would be finding out soon and ‘OMGILOVEHIMOMG!’ when the time came for me to leave workies (at 1630) I was slightly deflated and running through a series of events in my mind that played out with him having to stay in Kuwait on a layover until Wednesday and that I wouldn’t see him for another week (a not-uncommon thing to happen in the ARMY, apparantly).
Text after text poured in through the entire day from various friends asking if he had arrived yet… I just replied in the negative and sat with my rumbly belly, trying to calm my ever-increasing nausea by consuming as many Fox’s Glacier Mints as possible.
I made it to my empty home at 1700 and fidgeted. I sat, then stood, then tidied, then crocheted, then tried to watch a film, then sat, then watched Family Guy… this process went on until around 2020 when my phone went. His voice sounded perfect… he told me to grab a pen and paper as he had some information to give me…. words were flung around that had to do with flight numbers, times of arrival, airports and… sigh… times of arrival; that all-important thing. He was due to arrive on the Saturday morning at 0705 at Birmingham International Airport (BHX). This meant I would be holding him for the first time in eight years in less than twelve hours. We spent the rest of our time telling each other about love and then the phone cut off. I instantly rang Dave (of the recently lopped dreadlocks and of the chariot we would be retrieving muffin in) and squealed about when he would arrive… we planned for him to come pick me up at half past five and we would make our way to BHX. 

Saturday-13th March
The following eight hours were torture… actually painful and agonizing. I bumbled around the house, tried to sleep, watched a film, crocheted, rang janeyface and drew some stuff. At four I decided to get dressed and occupied the next hour prancing between all the mirrors that live in my house in my dress, heels and tights, making sure I looked fabulous from all angles… making sure that the muffin’s first sight of me in person in more than eight years was going to be perfect.
Muffin rang again at a quarter to five where he talked about the chocolate treat he had just nomed and how excited he was… soon after I put the phone down dave arrived and I became hysterical. My hysteria continued in the car for the entire journey where the only things I could repeat were “fuck,” “shit” and “I can’t believe I’m actually going to be seeing him.”
All Tourettes issues aside, I was okay… I felt an overwhelming sense of calm that I couldn’t shake. My heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time… like it had been on a marathon and was just on the final stretch to the finish line.
We arrived at the airport and we perched. Dave interviewed me outside and filmed my hysterics as I frantically watched the terminal entrance despite the fact that I knew he wouldn’t be arriving for at LEAST another twenty minutes. We then sat and waited… at 0708 I became concerned that I might die. Every single time a person came out of the terminal I hopped around in my seat only to deflate when I realized it wasn’t him.
It was 0722 when I saw the beautiful red-shirted creature emerge from the hallway… it was then that I felt my stomach fall and I immediately began hitting dave in the leg, repeating, “holy shit, holy shit, holy shit…” I couldn’t stand for a moment, so I waited… I watched him come around the steel fence (which I hated the first instant I saw it because I KNEW that it was most likely placed there to protect the new arrivals from potential snuggle attacks) and then I stood up. When he was within a yard of me I heard him say, “oh my god” and I fell into his arms. I kissed his neck and smelled him. I smelled his right shoulder, his neck, his hair and his chest. My legs wobbled and, much to my surprise, I didn’t cry. I just held his head and felt his beautifully giant bear-arms hold me as tight as they would.
For the first time in eight years I was in his arms… THE Muffin was there, in person, with me… this boy that I have been spending the last eight years without; he was there, WITH ME. It all felt very numb but incredibly perfect. All my concerns about it feeling like I was hugging a stranger were gone the instant I felt his arms around me. He kissed me and I remembered… my lips immediately began to hark back to when they were bff with his lips and they were happy… replaying every amazingly magical memory from all those years ago. We held one another again and then came back to the real world. I introduced him to Dave and we went to eat… well… they ate; I sat and watched the muffin.
The journey home was a blur… he might have held my hand, we may have talked, we possibly shopped, I’m sure I kissed him… who knows. All I know is when I arrived home I wanted to hold him and have it be just me and him. Stacey was kind enough to be out of the house for the day so we arrived, said our goodbyes to dave and instantly fell into one another’s arms again… honestly, I could have just stood there in my hallway and held him and made myself familiar with his arms again for the rest of the day but instead we went upstairs and we talked… I whacked some music on (my super megamix consisting mostly of The Magnetic Fields, Andrew Jackson Jihad and Ali Pow3rs) and we did the inevitable. Eight years is a long time and it’s been bloody ages since I’ve been satisfied in the ‘bedroom department’ (for lack of a better phrase).
Fast-forward a few hours and open scene to a happy danie and dane, legs tangled, kisses being placed across each other’s faces, almost as if we were tagging special locations on a map. The sun was shining through the curtains in all the right places and at that specific moment I immediately felt like I was home.
Laid there, all I could think about was how much I loved him… how I couldn’t believe that he was there. I couldn’t believe that I finally, after all these years, have been allowed the luxury of feeling his touch again, kissing his shoulders and staring at his face. My favourite thing about all of this, every single second that we have had together, is that it doesn’t feel like ANY time has passed… it feels like I only saw him just the other day, like the eight years that we have been pining after one another through haven’t existed. Everything fits perfectly and EXACTLY like it did eight years ago. There’s no unfamiliarity or nervousness… it all feels like we’ve been together for years with no stupid lapses or breaks.

As of today, right this instant, I can say that I have not slept more than seventeen hours since I woke up last Friday morning… I don’t want to stop looking at his face. I just lie there at night and watch him, kiss him… I want to memorize his body. I am so terrified that once these two weeks are over I won’t have filled enough 3-ring binders with information about him in the filing room that is in my mind. I want to remember every single little tiny thing that I possibly can. Every blemish, scar, smell, hair, tattoo, wrinkle… I want to commit every aspect of him to memory.
My mental filing system has been being slowly filled now every second of every day for the last six days… I have carefully watched everything from the way he eats to the order he puts his clothes on… I know what position is his favourite to fall asleep in and I know how often he grinds his teeth every night.

Sunday morning we rushed to the coach station for our trip to London where the muffin had to jump his first bff hurdle in the shape of janeyface.
The three of us pranced in a mostly-drunken stupor and had the most wonderfully glorious time on Monday leaving Tuesday and Wednesday free for danie and dane to be tourists. I honestly don’t think I have ever walked more in my entire life, but it was all just perfect because I was seeing and doing everything with him. We walked all of London and kissed every chance we got. At the end of the trip janey offered her official seal of approval… citing that he is incredibly lovely and not at all what she expected… that she loved how he could have actual fun with us unlike the estranged. He joins in and plays along with the inappropriate banter and shouting alongside just lying around like a slug with us when the mood strikes
The second bff hurdle was jumped last night… I’m gonna be honest, I was incredibly nervous for him to meet Pow. Like, I KNEW janey would love him because that’s just how she is, but I was very worried my little bag of Pow Pow would be in one of his famous off moods which would make the meeting awkward. Muffin and I arrived at the pub and got the drinks in then perched in wait for the arrival of the other man in my life. We held hands and kissed until he arrived. We sat, chatted for a few minutes and then I broke up the conversation because my stomach was threatening to cause a scene if it wasn’t fed IMMEDIATELY.
We talked, drank and ate for the next three hours and I can honestly say I have never been happier. To be sat in a not-too-full pub on a Thursday evening with my two favourite boys in the world drinking a pint of elderflower cider… that is what I imagine heaven to be like.
When The Muffin went to the bar for another drinky I enquired as to what Pow thought of my one and only and he said that seeing me with him is nice because I seem calmer… that when I was with The Estranged I always seemed so stressed and loud and with The Muffin I just seem more relaxed and happy… and that The Muffin seemed genuine and had pretty eyes (yeah, Pow’s a homosexual <3).
So there it is, the second bff seal of approval. We will be bonding more with Pow over the next several days in the shape of visits to the museum, gaol and Darley Park to meet oinky (the water buffalo who LOVES cakes). Sunday we will all retire to mine for a big, fat roast din din and films, which will be even more heavenly, I presume…

You know, all wonderful aside, I feel like right now, all I want to do is just lie around with him… I am still very much getting used to having another person in my life again… sharing a bed, holding his hand and planning meals and days out… it’s all very nice and makes me feel incredible, but it is also very, very strange… to have someone there now, putting their arm around me and touching me with a very gentle and loving hand… I’m not used to it and it makes me feel really lovely.
On the opposite side of that same coin though, I have very much grown to love my independence. In the time since the estranged and I split I have become a very self-sufficient girl and I love how my world has developed. It is odd having someone there who either relies on me or who expects me to rely on them… like, I’m fitting into that little room nicely, but it was BLOODY hard to convince myself to go in there… I am a born-again independent and I HATE to feel like I have to rely on people because it makes me feel like less of a person… he doesn’t though, he makes me feel like it’s okay to sometimes ask for help.
All-in-all, this whole muffin experience has been incredibly helpful and magical… 


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