DH is finally back home – well, I did see him last week so we weren’t apart too long. Of course, as soon as I got back, I realized all the things I didn’t have time to do were still waiting to be done! I need a pair of glasses, contacts (I went to Costco in August and got fitted a sample pair and STILL HAVEN’T GONE BACK), my eyebrows are a mess and my snatch still needs to be snitched. I’ve got immigration papers somewhere around here that need filling out. My feet lost the war between my flip flops and the New York streets. But the memory of having dinner in a backyard patio and the lights dimming for the start of a Broadway play still carry me…..
When DH goes away for an extended period, I never really mind that much. It’s like a vacation for me in a way. Yes, I miss him, but I also get to enjoy peace and quiet, I don’t cook (I subsist on soup and popcorn) and I walk the dog a lot in woodsy trails and catch up with friends. It’s like being single without actually being single. The remote control is all mine and I don’t have to hear the noise of UFC and Shark Attack in the background. I don’t have anyone asking if I have done this or taken care of that 5 minutes before I get around to doing it. I don’t shave my legs as often and I can fart without acknowledging it. I suspect he feels somewhat the same when I’m away. Nobody nagging him for drinking right out of the milk carton, and to take the garbage out and close the door when he’s in the bathroom.
Couple weeks ago, he told me he had a dream where I had left him. It’s rare that he even remembers his dreams, rarer still that he gets upset by them. Of course, in my snarky way, I told him I just might yet. Not nice of me. I rarely think of him as someone who needs reassurance. Me, of course, that’s another matter. After all, I tend to carry my hurts with me for years. But him? His ego never seems to be in disrepair. I do admit that infertility, depression, weight gain and my erstwhile career (as I watch other friends on American TV) has managed to effectively curtail my confidence. I do have some control over some of those issues. I rarely think of DH as needing any reassurance. I should know better after all these years with him.
I forget that he needs me to acknowledge him, reassure him that I still love him, still want to be with him. That all his efforts to deliver a child into our lives have been appreciated. Perhaps he was thinking that he wasn’t enough. I can certainly understand that.