All By Myself
May. 23rd, 2004 10:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyspriteMy sweetie is down in Maryland right now. I kissed him goodbye Friday morning, and sent him on his way down to play in a LARP while I worked a double-shift and then planned to spend the weekend footloose and fancy-free, entertaining myself and having fun doing all of the girly things I tend not to do while he's around.
I had visions, I suppose, of playing house - the sort of fun you have when you're still technically a kid, but your parents decide to leave you home alone for the first time. I planned out my weekend, making sure to include plenty of time for bubble-baths, dancing around the living room like a loon, eating foods he can't stand, watching sappy movies, and quality time with quality friends. I figured that, while I'd miss him, I'd manage to have plenty of fun on my own.
And for the most part, I did. I have enough friends that I've managed to almost completely avoid feeling lonely and alone in a big old house. I have plenty of stuff to do - projects to work on, books to read, housework to finish if I'm feeling overly ambitious. The only thing I didn't count on was sleeping.
I've never slept by myself in our bed before. I didn't think it would make that much of a difference, since I've of course slept alone for years before we moved in together, but apparently it does. I was used to being alone in my little twin bed, half choked out by extra blankets and stuffed animals and pillow-hogging cats; compared to that, our queen-sized bed seems like a vast wasteland of cold empty space when I'm in it alone. Every time I roll over, there's a kind of disturbing lurch at the presence of more bed, and the absence of a warm, strong body to curl up against. No arm across me, noone's breath on my hair, and it feels like if I'm not careful I could just keep inching over again and again until the bed goes on forever and I'm lost in an infinite void of nobody-else.
My solution to this, so far, has been to exhaust myself to the point where I would likely be able to fall asleep even in the gaping maws of hell itself, and while it's less than optimal it at least seems to be keeping me functional. And he should be home tonight - probably somewhere around midnight, but waiting up shouldn't be a problem. While I've missed him during the days, and I'll be happy to see him and hear his stories, I don't want to spend another night alone for a long, long, long time....
I had visions, I suppose, of playing house - the sort of fun you have when you're still technically a kid, but your parents decide to leave you home alone for the first time. I planned out my weekend, making sure to include plenty of time for bubble-baths, dancing around the living room like a loon, eating foods he can't stand, watching sappy movies, and quality time with quality friends. I figured that, while I'd miss him, I'd manage to have plenty of fun on my own.
And for the most part, I did. I have enough friends that I've managed to almost completely avoid feeling lonely and alone in a big old house. I have plenty of stuff to do - projects to work on, books to read, housework to finish if I'm feeling overly ambitious. The only thing I didn't count on was sleeping.
I've never slept by myself in our bed before. I didn't think it would make that much of a difference, since I've of course slept alone for years before we moved in together, but apparently it does. I was used to being alone in my little twin bed, half choked out by extra blankets and stuffed animals and pillow-hogging cats; compared to that, our queen-sized bed seems like a vast wasteland of cold empty space when I'm in it alone. Every time I roll over, there's a kind of disturbing lurch at the presence of more bed, and the absence of a warm, strong body to curl up against. No arm across me, noone's breath on my hair, and it feels like if I'm not careful I could just keep inching over again and again until the bed goes on forever and I'm lost in an infinite void of nobody-else.
My solution to this, so far, has been to exhaust myself to the point where I would likely be able to fall asleep even in the gaping maws of hell itself, and while it's less than optimal it at least seems to be keeping me functional. And he should be home tonight - probably somewhere around midnight, but waiting up shouldn't be a problem. While I've missed him during the days, and I'll be happy to see him and hear his stories, I don't want to spend another night alone for a long, long, long time....
