Just being together

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Sometimes, these things just don’t work out.

The rain was constant, from last night, about half past 10 until now.  Constant and persistent.  The dogs don’t really like it, hugging the walls of the buildings in order to stay out of it as much as possible.  This was about 10.30 last night.  It is much colder too although above freezing.

I took the dogs back and, as we had agreed earlier, made my way to the shop to collect the keys to his flat.  The plan being, that when he finished his work, he would come home, telephone me and I would let him in at the gate.  I looked forward to it.  Both being in his home (which is a little warmer than mine) and the idea of him coming later, me, probably asleep by then, but warm and someone that he could snuggle up to.

I was later than I had intended and not having had the couple of hours sleep I had intended either.  N had Skyped me to tell me off for not telling her about V and then L had asked about some court case, which I couldn’t remember anything about, so I rang V and we were on the phone for a bit.  And so I was late.  But, at least, I was going and we would be together, even if asleep, for some time; some time being better than no time.

To get to the shop, though, from my place is not straight forward.  There’s no easy way which doesn’t involve quite a bit of walking or waiting for connecting trams or metros.  The easiest involves a good walk from my place to the metro at Porta Venezia and then one stop down, walking from Palestro to the shop.  And, it being a miserable night, it was not so pleasant, that tempered by the fact that I would see him again and that I would be there when he got home.

I collect the keys.  He stops work for a cigarette with me.  I am happy to see him and happier that I will be in his flat when he gets home.

I walk back to Palestro station and catch the metro up to his place.  I let myself in.  He had left the heating on and the place is warm and lovely.  I do all the things as if he was there.  I make myself coffee, sit and do some Facebook and Farmville stuff and then go to bed.  But, by now it’s gone midnight.  Not quite as early as I had planned.

And I can’t sleep.  Not because I’m uncomfortable but merely in anticipation of his arrival.  As I’ve said before, I really hate the fact that I have to sleep at all, missing precious moments with him.  At one point I look at the clock on my phone which says it is nearly one.  Damn.

______________________________________________________________________________

The alarm goes off.  I realise that he isn’t home.  I feel gutted for him as he looked tired when I saw him but now he has had no sleep.  I get up and start putting my clothes on.  He calls.  He is sorry for me that, in the end, I had to spend the night alone. We are sorry for each other.

I need to get his keys back to him.  I think how much better it would have been for me to have stayed at my home.  But, if he had have come back during the night, it would have been so worth it.

I clean the place up and try to make it as if I have never been there.  Well, I try, anyway.

I go home.  Walking the familiar streets, still everything wet and more wet being laid on the first lot of wet.  I get home.  I take out the dogs.  I sit and have coffee for a few minutes and then shower.  I had hoped to have left before 7.  As it is, it’s a quarter past – the time I should be leaving for work.  I briefly think about taking the car – but I don’t know the one-way system there so well and, then, I would have to find somewhere to park.

I take the metro.  This is going to take more than half an hour which means I shall be at least half an hour late for work.  Plus, I am tired.  It is still raining.

The workmen have arrived to remove the scaffolding and to put up the tree.  F tells me that he still has some things to do once the workmen have gone.  After that he will go home and bed.  I wish I could be there when he gets home, even if he is so tired he would just be going to sleep.  At least he would be going to sleep in my arms!

And, even if he has been up all night, he looks so good and I look at him and love him more.  I give him the keys and we kiss on the cheeks, the closest we can do to the real thing.  Ah, well, there’s always tonight, after the concert.

I tell him that it all looks beautiful.  I mean him, of course, too but can’t say that; I don’t know who speaks English there, it not really being a secret language here.

I leave, saying I would only ring/text him if he rings/texts me, as then I will know he’s awake.  He says that, if he hasn’t called me or texted by 6, I should ring him to wake him anyway.

I leave for the metro and the car, parked back near home.  I am late for work.  Or, rather, later than I would like to be.  And tired.  I have the concert to look forward to tonight but, even better than that, is being with F and then spending tonight together and waking up tomorrow and having breakfast, maybe and just being together!

Needy or not?

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‘I like you a lot’ he writes, after he explained that he is not good with words.  OK, fair enough.  He doesn’t want to wear out the three words and, anyway, actions speak louder than words, as we all know.

I missed him last night, even if I did get to bed at 2 a.m. and went straight to sleep (aided by a few glasses of wine).  Still, it would have been nice to have been able to curl up to him and kiss him, softly and tenderly.

Perhaps, even if he were to see this blog, it would hold little interest for him.  His thing is music.  Mine is words and, more often than not, written words rather than spoken words.  We kind of compliment each other, which is good and as it should be.

And today he will be so busy, working into the night, probably.  And so, it is likely that we won’t be together tonight either although I hope we shall be.

If necessary, I will go to his place (providing I have had some sleep first).

In the meantime, we text and chat and call.  We both have jobs that we take seriously (even if I don’t have so much to do most of the time) and we’re both good at what we do, even if he enjoys his more than I enjoy mine.

And, today, I have been busy with clients again.  We spoke as they left.  He is preparing stuff but won’t start the main work until about 7 p.m.  He doesn’t know what time he will finish.  I said that I was going to get a couple of hours sleep and then I could come to his place, if he would like, as long as it wasn’t 2 in the morning or something.

He then suggested that, if I would like, I could come to where he is working and get the keys to his flat, go there and then he could come later….if necessary, I could even go to bed and he would call me when he arrived home so that I could let him in.

He wants this as much as I do.  I actually said that it’s if he wants, as well, as it takes two of us.  But he doesn’t want to appear so needy, even if he is needy.

He makes me smile.  I will call him later, after I have slept.

And, so, I replied to his text of liking me with ‘I guessed that as actions speak louder than words’.  And then reminded him of what he had said (about everyone looking for the same thing) and said that maybe, hopefully, we had both found it!

He laughed (in text form).  And then the call later with the suggestion of me going round, before he gets home.  The same as I wanted last night, the same as he wants tonight.  And, once again, I am happy.

>At least, when he has done this week, he will be less busy with work and can concentrate on his flat and painting and decorating and buying the furniture, etc.

And he should start to relax a bit and things should become easier.

Time, Actions, Perceptions

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[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.

Test Results

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Just as a quick update.  I did the test.  Of course, it was an experimental test, apparently but I guess it gives the right result.  In any event, everything was good, as I expected it to be, since, although everyone says you should not trust your partner, for most of the 20 years V & I were together, I could.  And I knew I could.  And, to me, trust is the most important thing.

So, everything is as it should be.  And thanks to Lola (who has now disappeared….again), it was simple and easy and should be made a regular thing.  I hope it is.  In some ways, Italy is very, very good……and this is one of them.

Keeping it under control.

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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!

Italy….a little frustrating….part 2

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I go back to the shop.  I am later than I would like and have difficulty parking.

The girl who sold me the deal is there (and she speaks good English).  I join the queue of about 5 people.  Not many except that there are only two assistants and each person takes at least 10 minutes.  We smile at each other in recognition.  It’s a weak smile from both of us.  She, probably because it’s been a long day (it’s already gone 6.30) and me because I am here again.

I notice a guy in the queue in front of me.  He was here on Friday too.  He had bought one of those mobile things for the pc.  Only it didn’t work properly since he tried to change from pay-as-you-go to a contract.  It seemed as if ‘the system’ couldn’t cope.  He was as unsuccessful as I was on Friday and was back to try again.  I nearly suggested we go for a drink!

Eventually I get to the girl.  She smiled and said she knew I would be here.  She went through the same things the girl on Friday had …….. and, in fact, from my perspective, it seemed that the girl on Friday just didn’t wait long enough.  On the same screen the girl had given up on, the system seemed to hang………..and hang…………….and hang………….but this girl knew the system better and we waited.  In fact, she served other customers whilst we were waiting.  But eventually it all came good and I am the proud owner of a new Blackberry!  Now, all I have to do is to set it up!!!!

But, in the end, I was in the shop for about an hour and a half!!!!  I kept thinking that, only here, would everything take so bloody long and require more than one visit.

However, it’s done now.  Her final words were that if I had any problem to come back but she hoped not to see me!  Bless!

Sometimes, I find Italy a little frustrating.

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Of course, I should have known better, really.  There are the three rules:-

1.  Siamo in Italia
2.  Customer Service.  Sorry, what was that again?
3.  Siamo in Italia ancora.

My phone was ‘broken’.  I really believe that they set a ‘useful’ life, at which point, the phone stops working, making it imperative that you buy a new one.  The reason for this?  I had a phone. Nearly 4 years old.  Suddenly, it stops making any sound or giving any screen display to show that a new message has been received or a call missed.

It’s just my phone, I thought.  Someone with the same model lent me theirs as they have no use for it any more.  It does the same.  And yet, if the sim is put into a newer model, it works fine.  Hmmm.

So, the choice was to go and get a new phone or change provider.  Since transferring to a new provider gives you a much better rate and a cheaper phone (special deals for new customers), it seemed the wisest thing to change provider.

First there was Wind (part of Infostrada).  I didn’t want it to go on my credit card (you don’t have the consumer protection thing here like you do in the UK – if a mistake is made you have to prove that it’s not your mistake an, in the meantime, the money is taken from your bank anyway), so asked to set up the equivalent of a Direct Debit.  We spent a few hours in the shop, taking copies of my passport, noting my Codice Fiscale (similar to a National Insurance number and absolutely necessary here if you want to do almost anything), etc.  Then came the fun part of typing it into the computer.  After a number of tries they said I must have either the actual card for the Codice Fiscale or the Health Card, neither of which I have.  So that was that.

Then I tried TIM.  TIM were great.  The situation would be sorted in about 2 weeks and when the number stopped working with 3 I was to go back to the shop, pay a small amount and get my new Blackberry.

After two weeks had passed I went to the shop.  Apparently there was no problem but it would be another week.

Another 2 weeks passed.  This morning I found that my 3 (spit spit) sim didn’t work anymore.  Great, in that the transfer was made.  Bad in that the new sim from TIM didn’t work in my (crap anyway) 3 phone as it is locked to 3.  Never mind.  This would all be fixed this evening when I went to the TIM shop and got my brand, spanking-new Blackberry.

Luckily, I borrowed an old phone to try out my sim – it’s working fine – but it’s not my phone.

As I sit here now at the computer I look at the phone a colleague lent me, very grateful that he did.  I drove from work, rushed straight to the TIM shop.  They were very helpful.  They found the Blackberry and proceeded to fill in forms; enter stuff on the computer and, as is normal here, generally take half an hour to do something that should, in reality, take about 10 minutes.

However, the problem, it seems, is that although TIM have moved the number, it takes 24 hours for the contract to appear on the computer system.  And the other problem is that the ‘special offer’ that applies to my contract has ended.  The brand-spanking-new Blackberry is sitting in the box but I’m not allowed to have it.

‘Can you come back tomorrow?’ she asks.

There was no solution – and, trust me, I tried everything I possibly could.

Tomorrow, I must go again.  That, plus get my suit altered, take the test, do Nan’s Trifle to take with us tomorrow night to R&Al’s, etc. etc.

Sometimes, I find Italy a little frustrating.

The Moment will last

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The 3 words were spoken and it took me a moment to register them.

I was surprised and delighted.  It was unexpected.  It was almost in passing, hence the fact that it took me a second or two.  I said that it was the first time but, apparently not.  He insisted that he had already said them a couple of weeks ago.  I don’t remember and I thought I would have remembered.  Maybe I was asleep?

It doesn’t matter anyhow.  They’ve been said now.  It means he feels comfortable with the ‘us’ that is.

This evening he returns to Milan.  I want to be with him.  I want to hold him and smother him in kisses.  The ‘missing’ of him becomes greater, not lessened by availability nor by the act of living and the mundane.  Obviously, this won’t continue for ever, I know, but I will enjoy it (and suffer it) whilst it lasts and be grateful for it and counting my blessings and realising that I am, as always, it seems, an extremely fortunate (or lucky) person for whom life has a way of working things out.

And it makes me think of the first meeting; how I was convinced that nothing would happen but that he was, in fact, the person from the chat, exactly, and that all the time I was searching and looking and going out with others, he was in my mind as ‘THE GUY’, even if I thought he was unobtainable.

And I think that life is full of strange twists and turns and surprises and, yet, is it true?  Has everything been leading to this moment, the ‘moment’ that occurred and was so fleeting but makes me happy and content and relaxed and fills me with so much joy, so much love, just …….. so much.

A moment is all it was

Yet, the moment will last.

Misunderstanding or Shit-Stirring, that is the question.

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It has been simmering for ages now.  Finally, this morning, I had an email from a friend (we’ll say, F1) which was slightly strange.  Basically, it asked if it was OK to tell this friend of mine (we’ll say F2) to go f%&k themselves.  I’m not really sure why I was asked but I said that F1 should do as they wished.

Within an hour or so F2 was in chat with me and said that they had spoken to F1 who asked about whether F2 had read my blog.  F2 asked why and what did it say.  I said it said nothing that I could remember (which is true since I forget a lot of what I have written).  F2 asked if I had mentioned F and I explained that I had almost every day (which Best Mate has also pointed out) for the last month and a half or so.  F2 then asked if I had ever mentioned them.  To which I replied yes and that I had talked about restaurants, eating at F2’s place, etc. etc.

Then, via Facebook, I get an email from F3.  F3 wanted to explain that they were not a miserable secretive person, in spite of what F2 may have said.  And that they had not invited F2 (nor anyone else) to their new flat because they were treating it as a haven from everyone and no one was being invited.  I replied that F3 should not worry about what F2 said and that I liked F3 (and F2) as they were.

And, so, I put up a new page on the left …… About this blog……

I have always said that I write this blog for me.  It does get very personal but, unless you actually know the people in real life (and only a handful do know each other) you could never say who individuals are much less have enough details to know them well or be able to pick out who they are from the snippets I write.

But, this sudden panicking by F1, F2 and F3 to tell me stuff or ask me stuff is slightly worrying.  I mean why?  And why now?

Of course, there is a single thing linking them.  F2!  I’m wondering if it’s some kind of shit-stirring.  I hope not as these things nearly always back-fire and would, certainly, in this case, if it continues.  Alternatively, it could be all a misunderstanding on mine or someone else’s part.

The Moment

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We were outside for a cigarette.  R asked me, again, how it was going with F.  I said it was going very well and that he makes me very happy and that my feelings for him are growing stronger and that when I’m not with him I miss him a lot.  I added that we were still going slowly because that is what F wanted.

‘But you see each other every day!’, he exclaimed.  I grinned and affirmed this and said that I didn’t push but, mostly, most nights, we were together.  Unless he was away, of course.

R said that this was what F had been looking for for the last five years and I told him that I had been looking for it too.

Then, when we were back at the table, he and Al, his partner, started to give F a bit of a hard time about how he hadn’t declared to the world that I was his boyfriend, etc.  F did the pursing of the lips, the ‘Paddington Bear’ stare and stuff but he wasn’t really annoyed.

They spoke a lot more in English.  It’s for me, I know, to make me feel included as part of their friendship with F.  They seem to want it to work out between us.  I guess I have the ‘seal of approval’, which is nice.

And, later, I could tell that their words had had some effect.  He was more loving, even, than normal.  I said that I felt very lucky to have found him.  He hugged me and kissed me harder.  I think we are a little bit closer to ‘The Moment’.  I don’t need it to be, to be honest, but it would be nice.  But I’m not looking for it.  It is better that The Moment comes when he is ready, for then I will know for certain.