How is this better?

The Philosopher is grieving.  24 hours has gone by and no word from the Multinational Special Agent. I have reread all our conversations since we met.  I had emailed them to myself over the months so I could always have a record of our exchanges.  There are some tough dialogues where we fought and got frustrated because messages were being received out of sync.  There were tough dialogues because not only are we 4,000 miles apart and even though we speak the same language, we do have cultural differences to bridge as well.  There were tough dialogues because we simply were frustrated that we could not crawl into each other's arms at that very moment and reassure each other that our love trumped all our frustrations.  However surrounding those tough dialogues multiple times over were the declarations of love and kindness and magic and passion and hope and gratitude for each other that touched my heart and made me soar.

For 119 days, my Multinational Special Agent, my Fox, was present in my life. He told me that there had been so many times when something would get him down, whether it was work or home-related didn't matter, and that the only thing that made him feel better was being able to talk to me.  For him, my love, made the rest of it worth dealing with.

I miss him.  Terribly. I miss being able to reach out to tell him I am thinking of him.  I miss being able to 'drive by kiss' him via text.  I miss having my Fox there to make my own life worth dealing with.  For 119 days, I knew I only had to reach out and from across the miles I would have a hug or a kiss that would come back to me.  Now, I have nothing.  How is this better for us?

I have replayed over and over the moment we were reunited after 107 days.  He walked into our room, my heart exploded with excitement and love.  My smile leaped off my face it was that big. I couldn't crawl off the bed fast enough to get straight into his arms.  And when I did, I was home, once again.  He held me so tight making us one body. It was beautiful.  It was magical.  It was love. Now every time I close my eyes, I see him, I feel him. And I go deep into my memories so I can see or feel something new each time.

Is this how I should be coping?  I don't know.  I don't want to push him out of my heart or brain.  I simply want to be walking hand in hand with him again. Kissing his cheeks because I am so deeply in love with him.  He knows I feel so safe when I am with him.  My Multinational Special Agent knows exactly how to care for and how to protect me.  And I miss him, dreadfully.

Was I supposed to have pleaded more and begged him not to leave me?  Had he wanted me to fight for him more?  What was I supposed to have done?  If so, let me have those days back and I will beg and I will plead.  I will put my arms around him and never let him go, never let him walk away from me leaving me to sob uncontrollably in our bed alone.

I think about him every moment just as I have since we met.  But there is no familiar vibration from my phone telling me he is thinking of me too.  I wonder how he is doing.  Is he happy to be rid of me?  Or is he sad and gutted and hurting and grieving like me?  Does he wish his phone would vibrate with kisses from me?

And I ask the universe over and over, how is all this pain really better for us than what we had?  How is all this pain and longing and tears and loneliness necessary?  Isn't there some other way to manage & to grow our love until we can be together again and together permanently?

I ask her to keep him safe, to protect his heart, to have my loving spirit envelop him daily and to bring me back into his arms and his world sooner rather than later.

And even though I know I shouldn't, I keep my phone close by, looking at his pictures, reading his texts, listening to his voicemail messages.  He is still my escape, my go-to guy and he always will be.

I miss my Fox.  I love my Fox, simply, madly and truly.  

This is definitely not better.

Ka-Pow

"It should have been simply a one-night stand."  He said that as we were facetiming after a particularly hard discussion about where our relationship was not going.

It was the first glimpse into what I believe was his original intent when we met.  How were we supposed to know though that it was going to be far more than a simple one-night stand?  How do we ever know?

Ka-Pow
He was leaning on the back of my bar stool when I returned from dancing.  He was talking to another girl.  I slipped into my seat and smiled up at him.  I said, "Hi I'm the Minivan Philosopher."  He smiled back and said,"Hi I'm the Multinational Special Agent."  I grinned, ahh a british accent!  And said coyly, "you're not from here are you?"  He replied, "No. I'm from London."  And I was immediately intrigued.

Flirting commenced.  The other girl he had been speaking to attempted to bring his focus back to her but that was not happening.  Our conversation was flowing fast and furious.  We were making connection after connection as our lives and our interests were, frightenly, similarly aligned.  It was new, it was exciting.  And when he said he could dance the salsa and then proceeded to twirl me and dip me, I was hooked. 

Then the bar lights came up.  The band stopped playing.  And we stood there not wanting to leave each other yet.  So we continued on in his room since he was staying at the hotel.  I had never just gone with a man to his hotel room like that before.  I was nervous but I also wasn't ready to quit talking to him.  We were laughing so much.  He was getting my humor and I just loved hearing him say my name.  Only the British can make "Minivan Philosopher" sound sexy.

We talked for several more hours.  And when he finally leaned in to kiss me the first time, it was immediately apparent that not only were we matched perfectly in our intellect and humor but our kissing was electric too.

When I left to go home, we made plans to see each other the next night.  Again another magical night.  Again deeper connections intellectually, physically, emotionally.  And as I laid in his arms knowing I had to leave soon, tears began to flow from my eyes.  Why did someone so perfectly matched for me have to live 4,000 miles away?  Why?

He said to me as he walked me to my car, "I should take you up to the rooftop and propose to you."  I quickly answered into his ear, "I would say yes."  We exchanged kisses at my car, he kissed the tears running down my cheeks.  He held me tight.  I asked him to keep in touch.  I said I could not bear living without him in my life now that I had met him.  He squeezed me and said, "I'm here baby doll"

Since that night we met, he has talked to me every single day.  We have spent several days together on several occasions that continue to prove just how magical the love and connection that we have really is.  He has managed to make 4,000 miles disappear.  He does that with a lot of effort on his part, I know.

In that time, his complicated life situation (family, divorce- it's back on and it's back off, job - assignments: the multinational special agent goes places and sees things us ordinary humans would never go nor would ever want to see) has pulled on him and his desire to permanently erase the 4,000 miles between us.

So we laid there, fingers intertwined, I was cocooned in his arms, my tears drenching his chest, not wanting to let any minute or second pass by where I wasn't recording his every breath for my repository of Special Agent memories, and he said he had to go.  He said he had to leave me for now.  He said he planned to come get me and carry me with him when he got his life sorted.  We had talked about this before.  He had said all along it was going to be his plan after our last night together.  Still didn't make it hurt any less.  Still didn't keep our hearts from breaking into a million pieces.  Still didn't keep the sobs from flowing when we parted. 

The Multinational Special Agent did not intend to fall in love with me when we met.  He did not intend to find his heart and soul linked to mine in a way he had never experienced before.  He did not intend to miss me like he did.  Nor did I.

Now he is gone and I pick up the pieces of our shattered hearts not knowing which are his and which are mine but carefully blend them together where they have been since we met.  He is off saving the world and sorting his life.  While me, the Philosopher, reluctantly grieves.

No, this was never ever supposed to be a simple one-night stand.