[Written yesterday, 2nd December]

He said, last night, as we were sitting at the kitchen table, that my flat was a very nice flat.  I wondered, at the time, if he was thinking about, maybe, moving in……..eventually, obviously.

Later, when we took the dogs for a walk, he was saying about painting the flat he’s moving into and I said that I wished I could paint because then I would paint mine.  He offered that, when he had finished his flat, he would come and we could paint mine.

He seems more at home there now, but changes have to be made.

I awoke sometime after midnight.  He was awake.  He couldn’t sleep.  I asked him why and he said it was because of all the things he had to do, going round and round in his head.  It should be a bit better after this week, I hope.

Tonight we won’t see each other and worse, won’t be sleeping together – even if we shall both be in Milan.  I will miss him like crazy but the logistics are too difficult since I don’t know what time I shall be home (we have a meal with colleagues from work) and I shall have to take the boys out when I get back.  It would be impractical to go to his flat afterwards, although my heart will ache as I pass his flat on my way back to mine, I am sure.

I think he is worried that his (new) flat is too small.  Perhaps he was looking at mine as a possible alternative?  Perhaps, if he does come and decorate, he will feel much better about possibly being there more often?  Or, even, permanently.

But I haven’t offered again.  He knows the offer stands.  He knows what I want or, rather, what I would like to happen.  It will happen or it won’t or it will but later.  In the meantime, I give positive signals and make positive noises about the new flat, even if I haven’t seen it.  It will still be one of ‘our homes’ in my head whereas his current place was shared between him and S and, anyway, belongs to S, which is why he’s moving.

Tomorrow night he may be working late.  Will, probably, be working late.  Late into the night.  So it may be two nights in a row that we shan’t see each other.  Maybe.  But, if he wants to come back to mine after work, then that is fine because I can always get up and let him in, should I be asleep.  If not, then it’s unlikely that I shall see him as I don’t want to be traipsing up there at near midnight to go to sleep and be getting up at 5.45 a.m!

But, whether we’re at his place or mine, it’s an easy relationship (apart from, maybe, my obsession); the rules being clearly defined (like no smoking in the bedroom – all due to a scare he had a few years back – which I respect, however hard it may be – and it’s not so hard, really).  I love the fact that, like V & Ig (or like V says he and Ig are), we agree on so many fundamental things.

A said that he seemed honest.  And I think he is.  Of course, all relationships are difficult in that the honesty of the other person has to be proved………but I work on the basis that you start off as honest or, at least, believing the other person to be honest.

It’s only later that it may change.  It’s time, actions and perceptions that may change your ideas on that.

I don’t really know how to tell you this.  I am, in a way, obsessed.

Well, I’m not even sure it’s ‘in a way’ but rather that it is an obsession.  It’s not the same as the washing my hands thing, which I do a number of times a day, even for no real reason, other than I feel I should, like now that I’ve written this, I feel that my hands are incredibly dirty.  No, this one is based on something real, I think.

I didn’t come from a demonstrative family.  I mean, obviously, we had cuddles as kids but my parents weren’t ones for holding hands with each other or, really, touching in any way.

And, so, whether because of them or something else, I don’t like to touch people.  I used to hate having my haircut for a similar reason.  Someone I didn’t know was touching me.  It was almost sexual, even if it really was not.

So, I don’t do the big hug thing, even with Best Mate – and yet we do, sometimes – and I want to – it’s just that I feel so self-conscious about it.  And, when it comes to men, well, this I find more difficult.  I do kiss men on the cheek here, as it is the norm but it still makes me feel uncomfortable – unless they’re gay, when it’s, sort of, OK – more like kissing my girl friends, really.

So, the obsession.  It’s not about NOT touching people but rather that, with my partner, I feel the NEED to touch him.  OK, you may say, nothing wrong with that.  And, indeed, were that all, then that would be fine.  The problem is that I want to touch him ALL THE TIME!  And, should you be thinking that I am, in some way, exaggerating this, I can assure you, I am not.

I realise that this will wear off in time, although I still touched V quite a lot, even towards the end.  In fact, without big arguments, it was one of the ways he used to be able to register his anger at me – but moving away from me and, therefore not allow the ‘touching thing’ to occur.

It’s almost as if, being starved of human contact, I do all my touching to the one person, in this case F.  And, in itself, this is not the problem.  Although, it is the problem of course.  Let’s take the situations:

1.  In bed.  He doesn’t like to be hot.  He has warned me that we simply cannot touch in summer and, more or less, I am the same.  I burn up (in all seasons) and may be a nice radiator/hot water bottle in winter but in summer it is unbearable.  Unfortunately, he didn’t realise this was the case in winter also.  So, touching him becomes more of a problem after a while.
2.  In general.  Since I won’t leave him alone, it becomes ticklish or uncomfortable for him.  And so he tells me to stop.  And I do…for a while.  And then, because I am not thinking, I find I am doing it again!
3.  And this leads to……  well, sex.  Which is neither always necessary nor welcome, of course.  I mean, it doesn’t always lead to sex.  It can’t as it’s not really physically possible – not that many times, anyway

So, the other night I realised that I have to stop it before it just becomes very annoying for him.  Last night, with much concentration, I did manage to stop it.  We lay on the bed watching television (Le Vite degli Altri – The Lives of Others – great film) and I didn’t touch him.  He held my hand and lay on my chest, but if he turned away or whatever, I didn’t automatically reach out for him, nor rub his belly or chest, nor legs, nor anything.

But it is some kind of obsession.  As soon as he is in the same room as I am I want to touch him, put my arms around him, etc.  And it needs to stop or, at least, be kept under some sort of control!