43 hours

I’d had enough!

The silences were too frequent and too long. I didn’t care that this might be how you dealt with the difficulties within our long-distance relationship, I only knew that it hurt too much. That I needed some reminder of your presence in my life even if it was only to say goodnight. The lack of communication just seemed symptomatic of my previous relationships where I did all the legwork and continually justified my presence in their lives. But particularly I thought of the man whose name I bear. Was I just swapping one emotionally repressed, tightlipped fuckwit for another?

So, in the tearful depths of the darkest hours of the night, I resolved to end it. To make my next visit the last one. Leave you with the memory of the mother of all fucks and say goodbye. I no longer cared about how good it was when we were together only how it was when I couldn’t be with you. The cold emptiness in my life seemed somehow magnified when I compared it to the thrill of exchanging countless messages with you in the early days.

Perhaps it would be better to finish with this heartache and find a fuckbuddy who lived closer. A man who could satisfy my physical needs without impinging upon my emotions.

The decision was made. The outfit was chosen. The final words were being written in my head.

And then in the wee small hours of the morning, I woke from a dream about you. Where I could see your face and your body, feel your arms around me and the crinkle of the chest hair against my face. I ached for you, longed for you, lusted for you. Reaching out to the phone beside my bed, I sent the text.

It was 3am.

At 3.01am the mobile vibrated your reply. How much you missed me and were looking forward to seeing me. How you couldn’t sleep for thinking about my visit in a couple of days time.

It quite took me aback that we should both be awake at this time, each thinking about the other. I knew I had to give you another chance. At least to explain.

So I made the journey, took you to your bed and had my wicked way with you. And then told you how close you had come to being dumped.

43 hours.

You looked genuinely shocked and quite clearly had absolutely no idea.

We talked about compartmentalisation, my needs and your resentment. Your admission that you subconsciously punished me for not being there by not feeding my habit and putting cyber distance between us as well as real miles.

I think we understand each other and the depth of our emotional entanglement now. You will make every effort not to push me away but I will not get overwrought if it appears that you are.

I believe we have both kept to it. The discussion made us reassess our relationship, put in some proper controls and goals.

Since that day, I could not have asked for a better lover. A man who makes me feel so beautiful and special but allows me to be independent without being threatened by my writing. Who makes me laugh and feel so alive. Who rejoices in the lusty and vocal celebration of my orgasm and actively encourages such a crescendo with the view that it is a pleasure for him to precipitate such a reaction. This is a joy indeed.

It is impossible to deny that we have something incredibly special.

Merry Christmas, Ruf x