Oh. Clarity.

About eleven years and eight men ago, I dated my neighbor. He was the first man I dated after my husband died. I wanted him. He was great. He laughed. At himself and the goofy antics we got up to. He sang, he wore CK, he smiled. I saw a future with him. We sat in the hot tub, he slept over, he feed my baby son, he put my toddler daughter to bed. We watched football on the family room couch in our pajamas. He kissed like a dream. We drank together, did errands together, compared music, and talked talked talked.

I wanted to marry him.

But, he wanted to be just friends. Which was confusing to me because whenever he'd come over to "watch a movie," we'd end up fucking. And every time we ended up fucking I thought, "Maybe now he'll want to be my boyfriend." He always felt bad after we made love. Not right then, of course, but the day after. He'd call me or email me and explain again that it just wasn't fair to me to keep having sex, because he didn't see a future with me. He just wanted to be my friend. I'd say, "Yeah, yeah, sure, okay." And the next time we'd get together, I'd ply my femininity and use my hands, and he would breathe faster, and we would join again.

One day I said, "I wish you liked me more." He pulled me to him and pulled off my clothes. "I like you too much. If I didn't like you as much as I do, I would have sex with you, no problem." Somehow his didn't seem contradictory to us making love right then.

"Let's just try it. Please. I know I could make you a good girlfriend. You know you already like me, you know you already like what I do to you...."

So he finally caved.
For two weeks.

Then he said, No. No more. I just want to be friends. Period.

We stopped having sex. He didn't visit much anymore. We started dating other people.

One day my boyfriend at the time broke up with me -- by sending me a letter in the mail! It felt like such a loser way to break up with someone that it spilled over to me. Now I felt like a loser. I didn't love him, but I was still despondent over being dumped, and I wasn't even worth a verbal dumping. He'd sent the US Postal Service to do his dumping.

I called my neighbor over. He cuddled me. He made me laugh. He took my mind off the other guy. And, we ended up fucking. It was glorious. Inevitably the thought came back, "Maybe now he'll want to be my boyfriend."

I smiled all next morning. I smiled all next afternoon. I smiled all evening. Then I went out to my car and drove out my driveway. On the way out of my cul-de-sac, I saw him driving back in. We stopped and rolled down our windows to talk. I don't remember what was said now, but whatever it was -- ordinary enough I'm sure -- I had a true to god Epiphany. So true, in fact, that it didn't hurt. I even smiled when it hit me, strictly because of its Truth.

He didn't want to be my boyfriend.
It was a pity fuck.

He assured me years later that it was not, in fact, a pity fuck. He'd wanted to do it, for him, too. Not just me. It wasn't because he felt sorry for me. But regardless of the reason he fucked me, the reality was still the same.

He didn't want to be my boyfriend.

And I finally believed him. That was the kicker. Somehow I'd tricked my mind into thinking, if I just could convince him with the right words, the right moves, he'd see me. But no. The realization was sweet and simple, and there wasn't any heartache afterward. It was just simply the truth. He didn't want to be my boyfriend.

So now. Current time. 2012. I find myself in a strangely parallel storyline. Though the backstory is much different.

Zi is in NJ, I am in OR. We love each. I'm totally certain of his passion and soul-shattering love for me. But he is without a greencard. And the only reason that he is in this country legally is because he is working for a company that is getting him a greencard. Once he's gone far enough into the process, he can move to OR and we can be together.

"We could get married! We know we love each other. We've even briefly lived with each other. We KNOW we're great in bed. I could get you the greencard. Quit your job and move. We can be together now," I said many many times.

His answer was never yes.
His answer was never no.

It was always a mix of ego and fear, and wait-just-a-minute-that's-not-how-it's-done.

I kept thinking that if I just said it in the right way, with the right words, with the right moves, he would see me. (Sound familiar?) See what I'm offering. See the life we can have. The life he even wants. I know he wants it. He says he wants stability. He says he wants roots, and to come home from work to the woman he loves. He imagines our future together -- even though he says it brings him pain and anxiety to do so. He sees us in Bangalore on the top floor of his parents' house, he sees teaching cricket to us, he sees having a baby with me, he sees telling his parents about me, he sees us living together, and having my pussy around his cock every day.


But I guess I wasn't saying it hard enough. So we've stayed alone, on opposite sides of the country from each other, and repeated -- like a mantra for the broken-hearted -- "the universe just has other plans for us right now." We've been waiting for this un-ending greencard process to continue continue continue.


But it is taking so long, and there is still months and months and months and months to go, that we are both breaking. The distance has proven too much for us.

We decided six weeks ago to start dating other people. I'm not sure what we hoped to accomplish -- dating unsuspecting honest people while we were still madly in love with each other. A recipe for disaster is what that looks like.

The message in my brain keeps saying the same thing over and over and over. It's two messages actually. Looping around each other, like the rounds my daughter's friends sing at her school functions.

The first one is the marriage message. If he would just consent to marriage, we'd be together.

Logistically it really could work! It's not illegal if you love each other, and you were going to do it anyway -- just later. I'd even figured out a way around the timing of the leaving of the job (which is keeping him in status) to the marriage and subsequent paperwork. We could be engaged while he looks for work over here. I could go over to NJ and we'd have the wedding there so he could still be employed. The family greencard paperwork would start and once it was final, he'd move to OR. Or even sooner if he'd secured employment over here. I'm convinced that would be faster than waiting for the employment greencard.

The second message looping in my brain is: If you love someone ... really truly love someone ... then you make it work no matter what.

Why is he really saying no to getting married? Yes, it's not the way he/we envisioned it happening. It's not as organic as we though it would be. It's got some legal red tape wrapped around a couple of the edges. But it would still get us in the same state. In the same city. With the same future ahead of us. Marriage and Family and Foreverness. If he is repeatedly saying 'no' (or more accurately 'not yet') that must mean he doesn't love me as much as I love him. It must mean, on some level, he's just not ready for marriage. Or maybe he's not ready for marriage with me.

Yesterday, I was out of town without internet access, so we were texting a fairly serious conversation. We both prefer to have those in person (which means Skype) so we can hear voice inflection and facial expression. Less chance for misunderstanding.

Nevertheless, here was our conversation via text:

"The only reason I'm not right there beside you is because I think it's not the best place for my kids. It would hurt people if I went there. But I often wonder who it would hurt if you came here? Why aren't you here for me, my aashikji?"

"Because of a cluster fuck."

"When you explain it to me on Skype, or in person, I mostly understand. But here, all my myself, I don't. Doubts creep in and I get confused and feel like there just must not be enough love, if you are in NJ. Why do I feel that? Do I not understand because I don't want to?

"It is because you love me and you want me very much."

"Those things are true, but what does that have to do with me not comprehending how you could stay away from me, by choice. I need my man. I don't just want and love you. I need you. You are my blood and oxygen."

"I understand. I am struggling with this situation."

"I have fantasies about you showing up on my doorstep or outside my work, saying, 'I'm here now. Forever. You said to come, so I did.' And then actually staying."

"I am sorry. We both have to accept our current situation. You know my visa situation."

"This is the part where the hearbreak and not understanding come in. I know you need a greencard to stay in this country and I know I could get you that greencard, but for some reason you don't want it. :( I don't mean to sound naggy or bitchy; it's the tape that's playing over and over in my head though."

"What tape, baby?"

"The recording in my head that repeats and repeats that you don't want me enough to marry me and get the greencard that will allow us to be together."

[EDITOR'S NOTE: This is where I would have expected him to jump in and contradict me. Something akin to, "No no. I do love you! It's just that ...." Instead, this was my response.]

"Do you have the heart to accept our current situation and live with it?"

[Wow. But maybe it was the impersonal method of texting. In Skype I could see his eyes while he said it. Maybe it was said with compassion and angst. So I try again. Telling it like it is from my heart.]

"What else is there to do, Zi? Except convince you otherwise. Sometimes I feel like I'm just not making my wishes and love known well enough to you. Like if I try harder you'll suddenly say 'OH, how foolish I've been.' And then you'll come to me in my dreams AND in my reality."

[Again, I need some reassurance here that he really does love me and that this separation is terrible for him and he dreams of marrying me and that the only reason he's not doing it is .... etc. Instead, he responds with:]

"What is preventing you from accepting our situation and being happy with it?"

[Smack. Maybe that's still the text medium not allowing his lovely voice to caress me with his honest curiosity and concern for me, but that sentence just hurt.]

"Because it's not what I want. It's what I'm begrudgingly settling for. I want you to be a part of my life everyday. Not four times a year."

My battery died at this point, and I was frantic to know his response. I couldn't get to my car to charge up my phone and hear his answer. I took a few deep breaths and let go of knowing for awhile. And what came to me was this: my neighbor.

Zi doesn't want to be married to me.

That's it. It's simple. The Truth. Simple and clean.

I've been begging him to marry me for almost a year. I've asked him, like, eight times. I've figured out legal angles and pleaded with him. I've started losing self-respect -- how many times do you throw yourself at someone before you see yourself?

And just like that day in our cars when I smiled with the Truth of my neighbor, 'He doesn't want to be my boyfriend,' I sat in the country meadow watching my son in a relay race and smiled with the Truth of Zi.

He doesn't want to marry me.





No heartbreak. Just the truth. He's my lover. We have love for each other. We are in love with each other. We fuck like we invented it. We have luscious memories. We have mad travel and porn adventures planned for the future -- if it ever comes -- but we aren't getting married. And I'll stop asking. And he'll stop hedging.

:)




But one more thing.
I'm really worried about Zi.
I'm sad for him.

Because what I see is this. My gut feeling for the future is this story:  I will start dating other men. I will fall for one of them and we'll start getting serious. Zi will be sad (as will I) because it's not him, and he'll start seeing someone, because it's time. I'll get even more serious with this other man, maybe we'll even move in together, and Zi will suddenly, and quite seriously, REALIZE.

He will see, in hindsight, that he should've gotten married to me when he had the chance. Just like he wished that he hadn't moved to NJ when he did. He's told me he wished he'd stayed with me while he was looking for work. Or that he wished he'd just concentrated his job search in Portland and Seattle, instead of all over the U.S. Or just like he wished that he'd never asked me to date other men last May. Or when he wished that he'd just stayed with me for a month last summer while he was waiting for his job to start.

He told me once that he used to be a planner. He meticulously planned ages in advance, until he realized that nothing he every planned worked out. So he stopped. He began an era of just going with the flow. Which is nice for lessening anxiety, but ... I wonder if this is now the consequence of that 'not planning.'

Always wishing you'd done something different.


When I finally got my cell charged up, the long awaited text response was this:

"So you don't want to be a part of this relationship where I am your lover?"

I never responded. I was still thinking. Processing this parallel Zi/neighbor thing.

But here's my response now.

"Of course I do. I love you, and will for a long time. Probably forever. You are an amazing part of my life. You've taught me so much about myself. And your cock is to die for. I want to fuck you for as long as can.

It might be ... and I think I'll be able to tell this summer when I visit in July ... that continuing the physical connection may be too hard for me to distance myself emotionally enough to date other men successfully. Sex is sex, yes, but with you it is so much more.

And it might be that if I continue having sex with you, I may find it hard to have a normal life in OR; my heart will still be in NJ. But I don't know that for sure.

And I'm willing to wait and see.

I do love you. So so much, Zi.

You are almost everything I want.

:)

It's ok that you don't want to do what it takes to be together.
I forgive you.
I forgive myself.
I love you and I love me.

No bitterness.

As it always will be.

As far as this transition goes, I no longer sob myself to sleep every night. I've stopped starring at your picture and listening to Julia Stone's This Love or Allie Moss's Something To Hold Onto. But there are tearful moments in the day -- as many as 5 days a week if I'm honest -- and I still see you everywhere I look. And I have activated my OKCupid account.

But that's all the progress I've made so far.

Well, and the moment of Truth I smiled at yesterday in the meadow.

I love you, Zi.

Forever.

Even if we never marry.

And I'll fuck you for as long as I can."

Self-honesty and Letting Go

I don't know where to go to write anymore. I took this platform class that has streamlined my blogs and website to make it more "professional," but then ... I don't have anywhere else to write write. Write write my heart. But maybe. Maybe maybe I should just write write anyway. Platform be damned. There is something, after all, to be said about writing as you are -- showing up on the page -- and whosoever gels with the message will stay to read. Will feel the resonation. Will soak up my words, like rain, and plant their own seeds because of what I've said. That's who I want reading my stuff anyway.

The other ones -- the ones that take umbrage with my phrases, my pictures of story -- those ones, they can just not read. They can put the book down. They can click away. They can unfriend me. Not with any haste or malice. Just. Because they don't find what I say interesting. It doesn't make them bleed or cry or say Yes. And that's ok. I am not writing for those people.


I've been dancing lately. Unpeeling myself and looking inside. Sometimes I'm amazed at the beauty, other times I'm startled at the dishonesty and ignorance. The blindness. The self-defeating practices.

Even now I'm struggling. Struggling to write these few words, because I've been blocked again. Blocked by my own arrogance. My own denial. My own ... unhealthy practices. Who knew that not eating enough calories, or subsisting on restaurant food and instant oatmeal, or not going to bed by 10pm (11 at the latest!) could interfere with my writing?

But there it is.

So I'm forcing it through.
Sucking the stories and truths out of my bone marrow to look at them.
Thinking.
Trying not to think.
Feeling.
Trying not to feel.

And then realizing I have to.


I have a man on my floor. My hardwood floor. He is humming his symphony and reading The Handmaid's Tale. He is my friend. My platonic brother. He stays with me when I am lonely. He stays with me when he is lonely. And we talk.

We dance. We eat. We cook for each other. And we take walks.

We ask questions and make observations. About each other.

And sometimes they are ... not what we want to hear.
I'm being self-serving here. Actually, he says things to me that ring true, but that I don't want to be. And I mostly strive to contribute to our stimulating conversation in a way that won't bore him. He loves me unconditionally; we're soul-family. But most times I think I don't intellectually stimulate him, so I feel bad. Like the friendship is lopsided.

But it can't be too bad. :) We keep leaning on each other.


I'm working on two things these days.
One, letting go gracefully.

My brotherfriend says that I can't grow with fear stopping me every time I look in a particular direction. But isn't fear a natural reaction to change? Isn't fear a necessary emotion during transition? One that helps you slow down your impulse to sprint through the grieving process? Because that's my inclination. Hurry up and grieve. And in doing so I would miss the lessons and gratitude my life situations have gifted me. So no. I want to meander, not sprint. Even as my fear is slightly paralyzing, isn't that better than the alternative?

Ultimately I know that the fear will subside with time, and I will begin to move again. Look at the light again. Foster hope again. And actually, I think that will happen probably sooner than I think, but the safety of fear and paralysis is comforting.

If even a little annoying.

Two -- the other thing I'm working on -- being honest with myself.

Remember J from last year? He's back. Not in a romantic dating sort of way, but in a we travel in the same circles sort of way. He dances at the same center as I do. And a couple of times we've danced together. And once or twice I've gone out in a group after dance, and he's been one of the people there. Eventually a friendship may just evolve.

Tonight in my conversation with my brotherfriend, I started thinking, or rather feeling, that maybe there is some unfinished business with J. I feel like I've had closure with him, so of what sort of unfinished business, I don't know. Maybe we're meant to mutually inspire the spillage of words. Maybe we're meant to support each other through lonely rough times, like my brotherfriend and I do. I don't know.

But here's the thing.
I'm afraid to look at it.
Not because I'm afraid of what I'll find.
But because I'm afraid it'll hurt Zi.

He's said he's not jealous of J, that it just triggers old feelings of confusion and irritation for Zi. It reminds him of an unpleasant time. And I don't want to be the bringer of bad feelings. Especially when I can't hold his hand through it.

So is this me being dishonest with myself? My not looking at this curiosity? This friendship that might be, with J? Am I being dishonest with myself by saying that I don't want to befriend him at all, out of respect to Zi?

Or is that actually a horrible arrogance? The arrogance of believing myself responsible for Zi's feelings. As if I had control over them. As if I could manipulate him having only positive experiences on this planet. It's true he is an adult, and capable of having his own experiences. It's also true that it's not my responsibility (with all the respect in me) to make sure he's happy all the time.

But still.

I do feel responsible. I love him. I don't want to ever do anything that could create any feelings of distress for him.

But that's impossible.

I've already failed at that many times. Every time I cry. Every time I say, "No," every time I say, "I don't know," every time I change my mind, every time I say, "I can't," I fail him.

I remind myself that if I'd just been honest with myself, I wouldn't have stayed in a nine year relationship that should've ended sooner. If I'd just been honest with myself, I maybe would've captured Zi's heart earlier and he wouldn't have left Oregon, and we would still be together now -- and not in a place where I'm forced to practice my letting go skills.

A powerful stimulus for self-honesty indeed.

Survival

In a small shelter
Not of earth
But of my own flesh

Huddled in the corner
Of my psyche
I shiver
And shake
And bleed.

Survival means
Holding my breath
Until sleep comes,

Or until you reach for me
And I hold out a trembling finger
For you to touch.

Friends With Benefits

It took 1 hour. 53 minutes and 13 seconds to change everything.
That's how long the Skype conversation took.

Here's to looking up at the little bit of sun
shining through, and
 to making our way through
the forest.

We don't know if we'll like it. We don't know if it'll work. We don't know if we're wrong.

But we do know that it'll hurt.

Transition Sounds Better Than Breaking Up

Zi is always reminding me to breathe deeply when I'm in pain or upset. And he's been talking a lot more about fate, kismet, destiny, and The Universe lately. I think it brings him peace. A sort-of explanation for this 'transition' we're now in.

For, on Tuesday, I told him the distance was too much. That it didn't feel healthy for me to be in this relationship like it was anymore. I "broke up" with him. And then the next day, when I cried with him again, he wanted to be clear that in no way was he mad or bitter. That he was even sharing this responsibility with me. He felt that, in a way (totally indirectly and not to blame, of course), he put us in this long-distance situation in the first place with his job loss and subsequent move. And that he ALSO didn't want me to be in an unhealthy place.

He believes then that we both have come to this conclusion -- that he didn't really see it as a break up, but more as a transition. And I, of course, clung to that because I felt better (read: less guilty) with those words. Transition sounded better than breaking up.

Something I told him recently (since our ... transition): "If there's any chance we can still be together I want to wait for you. I don't want to start seeing anyone else. But. I can't wait a year. If you could tell me you were moving here in six months -- I'd wait."

And then I promptly widened that to six months to a year. He said, "Then what was the point of the break-up?"

Hmm.

I don't want to dig myself a hole here. After three and half months of "good days and bad days" oscillating back and forth until it became a daily up and down swing, like I was on some kind of upper/downer drug frenzy, I called it quits. I threw my hands up in surrender (which by the way is why I felt so guilty -- "If I was only stronger" -- wreaking havoc on my work ethic and my idea of loyalty.)


It's not that he's not good for me, or that we're not good for each other. It's that the distance has beaten us down. I was going to say beaten me down, but even Zi wants to have sex with others to tide him over between our visits. And I know the distance is getting to him, too. It's true that he'd keep going in the relationship -- most likely indefinitely -- but he needs the stability of a steady girlfriend in New Jersey as much as I need companionship and touch here.

The truth is we've both been living without crucial human needs being met. For months. And it's taken its toll on us. On our minds, on our hearts, on our bodies. It's hurting us.

And there it is. The stalemate.

On the one hand, we love each other. And have for a year. Deep love that grows in our marrow. And despite staggering challenges: first my marriage, then my search and quest within to determine whether I was monogamous or polyamorous, Zi's job loss, his moving away, the whole J thing, and all the months apart. Not to mention the "little" things like: I'm not Indian or Muslim, that he's more conservative than I am, that I'm divorced twice, (and widowed for God's sake), have two half-grown children, and am ambivalent about having more. (Though at times I am completely and utterly obsessed by the idea.)

And despite all that -- there is love and worship and obsession and sex and play and laughter and culture and language and trust. There is tenderness and protectiveness. There is nurturing and comfort. There is pride and -- Sweet Jesus -- a rocking awesome brown cock.

I love the exotic, I love the differences between us, I love his accent and the way he laughs and pushes his glasses up on his nose. The way he wiggles his foot unconsciously, and wears the same outfit every day when he's not at work or going out. Blue sweatshirt, blue hat, white tee-shirt, pajama pants, black slippers.

I love his tongue and his hands. I love his words and the sound of his voice -- calming and grounding. Even when we're disagreeing.

That's all on the one hand.

On the other, we're in pain. Sometimes it rages like a slashing cut at our core, and other times a dull ache, like a low-grade headache that won't go away. We're not alive right now. We're living a shadow life. One where we only come alive when we sext each other, or when we see each other on Skype, or talk on the phone. Or plan our next visits and watch our porn videos. At those times we are manically high. Euphoric. Stronger than the Earth's gravitational pull.

But the worst part? Is sometimes, even those very things that make me feel alive -- the Skyping, the phone calls -- Don't. They make me feel worse. Because it's not happening here in body. It's only real in cyber-world.

So where does that leave us?

And, actually, I should be saying 'me.' Where does that leave me? Because these are my thoughts. My feelings. My pain. I need to own them and not project them onto Zi. He has his own and I hope he'll write them down here, too. So I can witness them, as he is witnessing mine. And then this space can be what we intended: Bare And Raw, both of us.

In conclusion (as if this were some college essay), we are in this weird transitional space. We love each other. We aren't bitter about this new place -- whatever it turns out to be. And we'll always be in each other's lives -- whatever those turn out to be. We don't know how our relationship will change -- but I think it must -- unless a miracle happens and Zi moves to Eugene within the next year.

And by year I mean closer to eight months.

And by eight months I mean a scenario like this: he thinks for a couple months on how it can work, and then has a move-in date I can write on the calendar for six or so months after that. Or gets a job in the NW in next couple months. Maybe he'll find out that his green card process will be far enough along by, say, July, that he could move to Eugene and look for work around here without any marriage. Then we could just live together. No pressure.

I could wait until July.

If I had that month to focus on. An ending to this.
"I can wait. I can handle this distance. It's only for a few more months. And then I can be relaxed and happy and have my man back."

Yes. I could wait until the end of summer, if I was actively planning and preparing for his arrival. It's the not knowing and the indefinite-which-literally-feels-like-forever that I can't last through anymore.

And I still feel sorry for that. Like I've let us down. Let Zi down.

But it seems I've hit my limit. I didn't know I had one. I've never been good at boundaries -- but here is one erected almost all by itself.

Zi says this is an ultimatum -- but that it's fine that I've placed one on him.

But I don't think of this as an ultimatum. It's just a limitation that I've discovered I have.

I can only wait for something (even if it's the most important thing in my world) for a really long time, if I have an end date. Some idea of when it'll arrive. Otherwise, I simply can't fathom it happening. Ever.

I love you, Zi.
I'm still getting that tattoo.

I Miss Zi so much I Feel Insane.

I'm feeling beat up today. My head hurts from crying ... and probably not drinking enough water. And stress. And too much on my plate right now. And not having a regular schedule in which to do anything. I feel like I'm behind on everything -- making hotel reservations in Sunriver, now one for Portland, making flight reservations for Massachusetts, signing up for the Willamette Writers Conference (and the hotel reservations for that, too) and and and and and and. It goes on and on.

Faerieworlds Festival is this weekend. The Summer Solstice. Something to celebrate. But I don't feel much like celebrating.

I'm tired.

Probably not a great time to write. When I'm tired. Everything seems bigger and more dramatic when I'm tired.

Zi and I have been talking A LOT about our relationship these past two days. I feel like I have monumentally let him down. Why did I fall in love with a monogamous man? This is so painful for him, and consequently painful for me as well. Empathically I feel his pain. And frustration. And disappointment.

We both want to be together. We both love each other. We both feel an immense physical connection.
But.
He's not here.
So now what do we do?
What kind of relationship can we create with our distance that will allow us both to feel ok?

I told Zi today that one of my bottom lines in any relationship I was in right now was the freedom to connect with other men if I felt called to it. I may not. I may be monogamous in lifestyle (if not in heart) for *years* before running into someone I felt a connection with and wanted to follow it where it lead. But I needed to freedom to be able to go there. I think things happen for reasons and we meet people for those same reasons. If I meet you on my life path, it's for a reason, and I want to get to know you long enough so that I can figure out the why of that.

Zi says we hadn't talked about this before (but I know we have). Maybe it was another case of me saying and meaning one thing and him hearing it a different way than I meant. Connotations of words has suddenly become a big deal for us. We have resolved to be very clear with each other about what the meanings of our words means.

For instance,
I emailed Zi earlier today about changing my Facebook profile picture. Zi is very careful about his appearance on the internet and never shares anything personal online. He's uncomfortable with me putting up pictures of him, tagging his name on anything, or even on me writing on his Wall. He wants all communication to be private. Ok. (I'm am not a private person at all, so the concept has taken some getting used to :) but it's one that I honor because it is important to him.)

So, a couple of the pictures I took of him this past weekend were so beautiful of us, I altered them so that just partial face shots of him were there. I emailed them to him and asked which one I could put up (a couple days ago, he had said I could ... I just wanted to give him an option of which one looked better to him). And here was his emailed reply:

These pictures are good. But in light of some of the recent developments in your personal life, I am not comfortable with you posting these pics.

We  always talked about our relationship and how we had agreed to keep your other relationships invisible. But now, with our circumstances changing...let me be the "invisible man" in your life.

Will always love you


I don't even know what that means. :( "In light of some of the recent developments in your personal life"? Does he mean that because I have listed J, on FB, as someone I'm in a relationship with now, Zi doesn't want to be acknowledged as my boyfriend at all? To anyone? He wants to be "invisible" now?
Why?


And the reference to keeping my other relationships invisible, that was a very specific scenario. That referred only to if Zi and I were married and if I found someone I wanted to connect with on the side (once or twice a week), it would have to be kept from our mutual circle of friends and his family. My friends could know though. But only the closest, most discretionary ones. Like T. So his reference in the email doesn't apply to us right now at all. (I wonder why he brought it up.)


So, does the fact that J and I are publicly dating mean that Zi is embarrassed to be with me? Like he's the "other man" or something? I'm proud of Zi. He's amazing and awesome and I want the world to know how much in love I am with him! And he wants to be my secret? I don't understand that. I hope that I'm wrong and have misunderstood his email. It's too late (time difference) to call and talk to him about it. So I am forced to wait and worry tonight until he can respond to this posting tomorrow.


I love Zi. So much!


He calls me "my queen." He washes my hair and my feet and looks into my soul with eyes that burn through my flesh, and drips into me like molasses. He curves his skinny legs around mine and cups his fingers around my ass, lingering, and bites me.


His energy sinks into my aura when we hug and he rubs his face into mine when I cry.


When we spend time together, his scent changes -- mingles with mine, reacts to mine. He alternately says he can't live without me and we have to figure out how to live and love long-distance so it can stay passionate and real and fulfilling ..... and then trips into the dank hole of giving up and says he fears he'll never see me again.


He pays attention to me. He thinks of me when we aren't together. He is sexually attractive to me and me to him. SO MUCH. Our sex is amazing. The best I've ever had -- and I've had sex with *many* men.


He gets me.
He knows me.
Inside and out.
He loves me.
He cooks for me and treats me like a precious commodity.
I'm fascinated by him: he's foreign, exotic, has a beautiful soul, and he speaks to me in Urdu.
He stands up to me. He's dominant. *And* submissive. 
He accepts that I'm poly (tho I'm saddened to think that this is changing for him as I type this).
He aches for me.
He misses me when I'm not there.
He loves my body and my smell.


I'm so in love with him.


And I'm so afraid for us.
I'm watching him crack.
Via Skype.


When Zi is here, he is all I think about. He is all I want. Forever. That's what I feel in the moment. In that moment. Like I could drown in him forever. Only him. In my head, I know that this can't be true. Even if we were married and saw each other every blessed day, I know that eventually (maybe not for seven years, or maybe seven weeks) I will run into someone that I want to know more about and it might turn into something romantic. But in my soul and heart, while I am with Zi, he's all I want. It's so beautiful.
It's a drug. And I want more and more of it. His skin and mine. Together. Every day.


But he's not here. :( And I ache for him.
Terribly. 
Especially when we are both going through such difficult times (with the distance and my new relationship with J) and I want to hold Zi tight and stroke his forehead and touch his skin that I miss so so much. I miss Zi so much I feel insane.


What's going to happen to us? Will our relationship be relegated to chatting online everyday and only seeing each other twice a year? I can't be sustained on that as my primary relationship. And neither can Zi. 


I entertain thoughts of 'maybe I am monogamous'. But is that just me trying to be something that Zi wants me to be? And not me being authentic? 


Whatever I am, I think it is safe to say that: I mostly prefer to expend my emotional and romantic energy on one person, but right now I'm allowing myself to display affection, sex, and love to more than one.


I'm willing to do this because I'm sad. And lonely. And I need skin to touch. 
I want to trace the contours of a man's face. A soul to hold. Affection from a man.
Since Zi isn't here, I wish to do them with J.


And I hope hope hope that Zi is really ok with that, and that we can get past this storminess.


I talked to J on the phone tonight, and cried about Zi to him. I asked J if it hurt him when I was feeling so sad for Zi. J said that it didn't. At all. That he was surprisingly ok with my heart being big enough to love more than one. :) So sweet. So understanding. He said, "Pain is the tariff we owe for having big hearts." And for me to never feel guilty for feeling. Because, he said, he would much rather know someone who felt deeply (including pain), than someone who didn't feel at all because they'd stuffed it.


We also talked about us not wanting to get emotionally attached to one another because of his eventual move for (wait for it ...) a job. But. It's a little too late. The emotions are there. And they are rapidly attaching. Sigh. (What is the universe trying to tell me with having me fall for monogamous men who are,  or will be moving, out of state?)(*head smack*)


J said he thinks about that everyday (his job search that could take him out of state) and sometimes even panics about it. But he is determined to not get stuck in the places where he doesn't have any control, but to stay and say, "You know what? Right now, in this moment, I have joy and love and a great new person in my life. I have no idea where it will go, but for right now I'll just be with her. And live. And laugh. And Process."


I think those are wise words.


So I'd like to say that to both Zi and J. 


"Right now, in this moment, I have joy and love. I have no idea where it will go, but for right now, I'll just be with you."


Sweet Dreams.

Crying Together

Crying again.

Lots of people cry during their divorce process. Only they probably don't cry because their long-distance boyfriend calls them up to say they think that your new boyfriend shouldn't have "relationship" status on Facebook because it's too soon after knowing him.

Zi and I talked at length on the phone tonight. Well, Zi talked, I cried. I cried because I thought he was mad at me (he wasn't). I cried because I thought I'd hurt him (I hadn't). I cried because I missed him. I cried because ... I needed to. I cried because I have needs I don't want to have. I cried because Zi has "unrealistic expectations" (his words) of me, and I can't meet them, and I want to be able to. I cried because he's so far away. I cried because I wanted him to be here with me -- I wanted to have had sex with *him* this morning. I cried because I want him to get the consulting job that would allow him to live anywhere in the U.S. (read: Portland, OR) even knowing that he hates consulting work and he'd be forced to do it for at least two years. I felt guilty for being weak enough to want something for myself that would hurt him. That's why I cried.

I feel worn out from my tears (and the allergy attack earlier in the day, and the short hours I slept the night before because I stayed up too late). And I'm hungry, too. Food will help me feel better, I'm sure.

Zi assured me that he wasn't mad or hurt ... just taken by surprised. When I apologized for his shock, he insisted that I shouldn't.

So, in an effort to feel better, after hanging up with him, I watched home-made Zin and Zi porn. :)
It was very effective.

Funnily enough, he Skype called me during a particularly hot scene, and we ended up crying on the video chat again. :) Sigh.

But it was beautiful. And sad. And poignant. And just what I needed actually. I need Zi to tell me what's on his mind, even if he thinks it might hurt me. And then we can process it. Together. And I need to remember that he wants the same thing from me. For me to tell him everything that goes on between me and my new J. Even if it might hurt him. Zi just needs to know. So he's not caught off guard. Like today.

weekend bliss and bittersweetness

Aashik is playing "Werewolf" by Cat Power and making breakfast for me and the kids. He spontaneously bought a $700 ticket to come see me on Thursday night. It's Saturday now. He leaves Monday night. I'm ecstatic, sad, hopeful, and in that weird holding your breath place. We are consciously being in the now.

"I'm not leaving, in the now," he said this morning. And I cried.

We acknowledge our intense love and connection ... and wonder what it's for if we can't be together. Are we supposed to design our own kind of relationship? What should we call it? What should we call each other? (There are those 'shoulds' again...)

"I love you. You're so beautiful," he said and touched my chin.

Wrapped in each other's arms this morning, we whispered.
We whispered about our fears
And our dreams
And our hopes that we aren't ready to give up on.
We whispered about our love, and our desires, and I cried and grinded my hips into his and he kissed away my tears.

I'm fraught with confusion and pain and gratitude.
Confusion for what this tearing apart of us is for -- because there must be a reason for the Universe's cruelty; Pain for the separateness that it seems we must live right now; and gratitude for my lover's kindness and love and devotion.

I don't want to talk about the future here right now.
It's uncertain. And scary.
And stubbornly still hopeful.
I have optimism for us.
We will always be connected -- no matter what.
We will always love each other -- no matter what.
We will always be in each other's lives -- no matter what.

We just don't know how that will manifest.

Sleepless

Tonight it is tomorrow. It's 2:34 a.m. and I still have not gone to bed. I watched two movies on Netflix after putting the children to bed, and still don't feel inclined to go to sleep. I'm tired, sure, but somehow facing the putting on of pajamas and crawling into an empty bed sounds sickening. So I haven't gone to bed.

I miss Aashik. Wednesday was our six month anniversary and we spent it Skyping. :) He's on the east coast looking for work and we can't be together right now. But we talk multiple times a day and I still wear his pajamas to bed most nights. I've tried dating others since he's left, but .... no. I just miss him. When I'm out with anyone else, it's Aashik I think of.