I haven’t blogged for a while, and let me tell you why: NOTHING has happened. Literally nothing. Nada. There’s nothing going on in my life. Boring.
I still haven’t had *that conversation* with My Mr. Grey, so things are still floating in the air like a stinking fart. In my head, we’re in a relationship, so I’m not actively pursuing anyone else. It’s been a month since I last saw him and I’ve not had sex at all since then. It feels like it’s been a year, not a month. That’s one of the worst things about long-distance relationships though, right? The lack of sex?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not planning or thinking of jeopardising what I have (or haven’t) got with My Mr. Grey, so there’s no chance of me sniffing around anyone else. I am crawling the walls a bit, however. I had the day off work yesterday and all I did was jerk off. I smoked, put on some bad daytime TV, and masturbated for the entire day. It felt so good, obviously … but maybe I’ve got a bit of a problem here?
I guess that’s the second thing about long-distance relationships: it gives you lots of time to think … and overthink. And reminisce.
I deleted all of the data from my phone the other day. I didn’t feel as though I could do it before, because there were texts from Big Love on there and I didn’t feel strong enough to completely delete those last traces of him from my life. It was the last link. Everything else had been deleted. All of the messages, photos, MSN chats, Skype history and contacts … literally every link between us had been completely eradicated.
But the time had come. It was time to purge. I read through conversations, tears streaming down my face, my heart shattering a little more with each one. We were so blissfully happy back then. Blissfully happy is probably too strong a term, but we certainly seemed happy from the texts sent between us. There was lots of laughter, lots of love, and lots of loveliness. I hate that I still cry over him and that he has this much of a hold over my emotions, still. And I definitely hate that I still compare other men to him, especially new men. But if the old saying is true and it really does take half the time you were with someone to get over them, I’ve still got another five or six months left to go.
I feel like sending him an email or a Facebook message, telling him just how much he hurt my heart. I want him to know exactly how much damage he caused me. He should know that no man makes me double-take like he used to make me, and how much his kisses made me literally weak at the knees. I remember all of those things on days like this, and the urge to beg him for a reason as to why we didn’t work is so strong. I won’t act on my urges, of course, but oh my god I want to.
It’s because I’ve got time on my hands. Time to think, overthink, and reminisce.
But when My Mr. Grey texts me, my heart skips a beat. It makes me smile. He always says the nicest things to me, and it feels like he’s truly missing me just as much as I miss him.
But for now, I’m working and sulking my time away. It’ll all be worth it in the end when we actually have that conversation and work something out, right?
It’s got to be worth it.
Otherwise, what’s the point?