‘Shall I come and see you tomorrow?’
Ruf was just 30 miles away on the other side of London. He was visiting relatives after the League Cup Final at Wembley and this would be an unplanned visit but, naturally, I jumped at the chance to see him again.
We knew that it was going to be six weeks before our schedules permitted some more together time.
The following morning, the sun came out for the first time after weeks of snow, sleet and rain. It was still bitterly cold but I had my love to warm me – along with the knowledge that when I got back from work he would be waiting.
This tune was on the radio. I have always loved the Journey version but there is something even more uplifting about the parp-parp-parp a capella back beat of this adaptation and I couldn’t stop smiling in anticipation of some impromptu alternative therapy.
That’s what I call our visits.
My alternative therapy.
Running in synch with my daily yoga class, he manages to energise and calm me simultaneously. Giving me a curious equilibrium that I have never experienced before in a life that was once a traumatic rollercoaster, ricocheting like a pinball from the excesses of frustrated rage to the barren wasteland of an emotional vacuum.
Knowing how much he cherishes me is the most peculiar sensation and yet it provides a huge safety net that allows me to venture forth and try things that the old Joanna would never have dared to even consider.
And so there he was, waiting for me outside the gate because he had forgotten his key. Inside, we just fell into each other and, discarding clothes all along the hallway, jumped into bed.
Several hours later, Glee Club was back on the radio when I returned to work, only too well aware of the rough patches of spunk sticky on my neck and chest where I had neglected to wipe it off due to time constraints.
As people walked passed me, I wondered what they would say if they knew. The juxtaposition of my day job’s persona with the dirty vixen that lies within.
But, mostly, I just didn’t care. I was counting the seconds until I could go home and snuggle myself back into bed, stretch my skin against the warm nakedness of his back and join with him again.
He is my hub and I draw so much strength and energy from him, it’s almost as if he recharges me.
Suddenly there is so much more relevance to the term being plugged in.
Such deserved, and enviable, alternative therapy… *sigh*