It’s a Sunday afternoon here in the NW, and our mild spring weather has turned back to cold and rainy. I’ve spent my day knitting and napping. Husband and the kids have been playing video games.
I’m trying to come up with something profound to write, but I can’t.
I’m feeling tired and a little disconnected. Content and sleepy. My mind and heart are both full.
Boyfriend stayed over last night, while Husband and the Other Woman were out at a play party. We’re the introverted half of our quad. We like our quiet time, our evenings in. We played Munchkin with the kids and had a delicious supper of risotto and Italian Sausage. We cuddled up together after the kids went to bed, and we enjoyed some alone time.
We both slept reasonably well, which is all either of us insomniacs can ask for.
This morning, after cuddles from the kids, we met Husband and the Other Woman at a cafe for breakfast. The old joke is that we were “Meeting on neutral ground to exchange hostages.”
I enjoyed myself. It’s been a good weekend, and the time with Boyfriend was badly needed.
But I feel I must be honest with myself, and others. I’ve never been a fan of overnight visits. I still feel conflicted about them. They are, on one hand, wonderful chances to connect with people. It is lovely to wake up and see the face of a dearly loved person next to you in bed. But on the other hand, they are an energy drain, something I cannot do often, and something I cannot do with someone unless I trust them fully and am fully comfortable with them.
This seems to shock many people. But there it is.
I keep looking at the whys of this. There are many reasons. I worry about the kids, and what they will think of a person who isn’t their parent being there when they wake up in the morning. I worry about my mother seeing said person at that early morning, because she lives in an apartment on our property, and we are not out to her (that is a whole other blog post).
But I think the main reason is, I don’t share well.
Which sounds very strange, coming from someone who has spent her adult life sharing her husband with his other loves. But there it is…
I love his evenings out. I love my evenings alone. And I love to have him home, to rub my back and talk about our dates and our loves and all the stuff that makes up our life. It is the one place where I struggle with jealousy, and there are exactly 2 people who I don’t mind him sleeping over with. And even then, I don’t like those truly wonderful ladies sleeping over at my house (they can play here whenever they want though, just to be clear). Because they would be sleeping in my bed, and that is mine. It’s my space, my sanctuary, my nest. Never mind that half the time, I don’t sleep in it myself, preferring the couch for one reason or another. It’s still my space, and having another person sleeping in the bed I share with my husband just feels strange.
Having explored these feelings extensively, I deal a lot better with overnight visits. They used to never happen, now they are an occasional thing, and I feel less weird and stressed about them when they do happen. I am reasonably certain that I will, as time goes one, continue to be more comfortable with them.
It’s been a busy, busy week. There was a meeting on Monday for our local soccer league, and the Poly documentary on Tuesday. Wednesday, my boy turned 10. On Friday I taught. On Thursday I had a lovely date with the New Boy. We talked about writing and ate cheap Mexican food. I’m not sure where that relationship is going, but I am happy that I have, at the very least, made an awesome new friend.
And last night, I spent some family time -and some grown-up time- with my Boyfriend. This morning, I woke up to smiling black eyes on the pillow next to mine. It was lovely and wonderful and something I look forward to seeing again. The kids are used to him, comfortable and loving. Our life is normal to them because they have never known another way. My daughter gave him a good morning snuggle, my son endured a hug from him. We had a nice breakfast out, and came home for a quiet, lazy Sunday.
It’s been a very good weekend. My heart is full, and I am happy.