I arrived early (for a change) at the party of all parties. The band is jammin’, drinks are flowin’, and people are laughing and having a blast all around. It’s an eclectic crowd. I grab a glass of champagne from a waiter walking by with a tray, take a sip and take in the scene. Wow.  I check my watch. Damn!  Where are you?  Why couldnt you get off early today?  I can’t enjoy this until you get here. So I stand to one side and watch and wait. Don’t take too long. We’re missing out. 

Erin, your birth control question has me thinking of other practical questions which we should be pondering and answering within the next couple of months, such as

1. What are we planning to do with your car?  Drive it to LA? Sell it there and buy one here?  Etc.
2. How much drawer and closet space do you need?  As you know I have a shit ton of clothing, but I have other closets in the house to put my hanging stuff in as well. I will get a dresser for you. 
3. If you will continue to hold fast to my birthday, does that mean that’s the date you leave or is that the day you have the talk?  There can be a bit of time between the talk and exiting.  What is your plan?  
4. You will need a US phone. 
5. Etc…

I’m fading, but practical things to figure out for us.  

Honey, I would love for you to help me with my diet, even over my protests.  Help me to change my diet so that I’m not constantly eating things that irritate my stomach. I’m too susseptible to my whims and weaknesses to do it alone. Please. 

I want to wrap my fucking arms around you and crush you with the love I have been holding in for so long. I remember your skin; the softest and magnetic to me. And your lips are electric when they meet mine.  Perhaps we’re two sides of the same coin: you’re the think when I speak, and I’m the speak when you think. 

My love, the distance is great and the time even greater. I feel the space between us creeping again and it makes my heart hurt. When we parted in New Orleans you said that you didn’t know how you could go so long without seeing me. The timing of that yoga conference would have worked out well, but I understand your trepidation. There are hurdles, there are fasehoods, and there are intricate plans that are just too much to bare in the end. I know. I understand.  I write and I text and I tell you about my mind and my heart and try to stave off the increasing gap. I’m getting weary, but I can’t throw in the towel because I can’t stop loving you the way I do.  I know that I can’t dictate the terms of a reconciliation, but it really makes me resent you some times.  Why did I say “until my birthday?”  Did I really think it would be that easy to just wait for you, knowing that you vacillate from 80% to 50% certainty.  I know honey that you have concerns and worries, as do I, but you should know that I appreciate you more than ever and willing to work-out whatever it is that concerns you. Nothing is more important than you. Are we talking tomorrow?  

I went to the cutest little cafe earlier to pick up a cake for my mother’s birthday soiree tonight. It’s a prescious little spot. A house turned into a cafe. Cute little indoor rooms to dine in. Overgrown vines ensconce the outdoor seating. And the food and baked goods are so good.  So much like a place you’d find in Nola, but healthier food and the waitstaff has much less body art (and probably smell better too). Lots of young couples, some dating, some married, some with little babies. I wanted you, my partner, there with me so badly. Damn this waiting game. Miss you. 

My love, allow me to elaborate a bit as to why I say “have a good weekend.”  When I say that I really mean that I hope that your weekend(s) will be lackluster without me.  I want you to enjoy yourself and relax because you deserve it of course, but I also want you to think of me, wish you were with me instead of him, and even call or send me a message when you’re a bit tipsy and can’t fight the urge anymore.  I can’t call you when I get the urge to reach-out, and I truly don’t want to overwhelm you with a text message every time I have a thought or feeling that I’d like to share with you.  So I take a breath, bite my tongue, control my urges, and simply wish you a good weekend.

This is either a testament to the truth of my sincere and enduring love for you, or it’ll be evidence in court for a restraining order. 

Erin, my love, I know that I can not wait another three months to see you in person. I will have to figure out some way to see you, touch you, kiss you, even if it’s fleeting. I don’t care, I must. 

If there was such a thing as a love-o-meter, a fate-o-meter, or even a get-you-preg-o-meter, I would challenge any man to test himself against me.