J and I had the rare opportunity to spend almost a week together–I was able to work from home and he got some extra time off for the Fourth of July. We had a fantastic time, but getting back to real life is going to be a bitch.
The holiday ended with a bang, but only on the count of the fireworks. We spent most of yesterday recovering from the previous few days we spent together. I can’t remember the last time I went for so long with so little sleep and so little food. Sleeping and eating felt like wasting time–I preferred to spend that time enjoying his company, our conversation, and his beautiful body… and I did. I enjoyed every minute, every word, and every inch of him.
He drove home last night and now I’m caught in the opposing gravitational forces of flying high and falling hard–forces which are made all the more disparate by my habit of overthinking everything. The highs feel higher and the falling… well, the falling fucking hurts. But it hurts in a good way because I’m feeling the absence of something I enjoyed so thoroughly, something that isn’t really gone, but is now too far away to reach.
I used him hard, abused him well, and loved him as much as I could. Still, I wish it would have been harder, better, and more. I suppose that’s one of the difficulties in being in a driving-distance relationship such as ours–I put too much pressure on the time we spend together. Everything feels too consequential and if the time together isn’t perfect, I feel some sense of having failed to make it what it could have been. I get desperate to touch him, smell him, taste him, to memorize his every word and movement and expression. I want to consume as much of him as I can because I know what I remember and how I feel will fade in the days (and maybe weeks) until I can see him again.
I don’t know that I could ever get enough to satisfy me completely, and in that sense, I guess that’s one of the benefits of a driving-distance relationship. I’m still hungry and I still want more. Plus, with the time and distance between us, there’s little risk I’ll take him for granted.
The actual risk of being separated by time and distance is allowing the dynamic to fade to the point it can’t be recovered or restored. That’s one of the reasons I often look back on the time we spend together and wish I had been better and done more. Perhaps if I can reinforce our positions enough, I can mitigate the inevitable deterioration that will take place over the days and weeks that follow.
Unfortunately, my current melancholy doesn’t at all represent the fucking fantastic time we had together. There were new dynamic-related developments, boundaries crossed (in a good way!), and lots of fun play and fuck-related stories to tell.
… and thinking about the fucking just made me a little wet. :)