love awfully

today marks the beginning of the phase of active barfing. she watched me leap from my seat and sprint up the stairs and called after me to see if i was okay. oh, mama, oh, mama. she perched on the tubside to my left and softly touched my shoulder. it's okay, mama. it's okay. i think i frightened her and her reassurance was only partly mine. it all came rushing back as it came rushing up. extended breakfast hours spent trying to keep something, anything down, him outside the door, yelling, yelling, yelling. next time maybe you won't be so quick to spread your legs. hope it feels good.
this is different. it is not 1996.
i don't know why i trusted him. i need to talk to him today. i need to make it stark that i am finished trusting him, that i'm sorry i did so in the first place. things need to be more in my hands. history taught me and i blatantly ignored. foolish me.
the movie was terrific crap, but i spent most of its 2 hours near tears. damn hormones; how they're melting me. how can i represent the dominant sex when i can't keep it together for more than five minutes?
the movie was sappy and saccharine and overthetop, but it made me think about love, generally, and in the many ways it more specifically totters through my life.
his 26th birthday. i don't know what's happened to us. i think i had an illusion of our closeness. i demolished our relationship and, upon resurrection, began realizing that much of what impacted me most strongly about him was probably never there. i am realizing that most of him i don't really know. and that's threatening. i'll never understand his intentions.
i have worries for the summer. we are not effective communicators from afar. i think, in some ways, our relationship is the opposite of theirs, which frightens me a bit. one shoulder-occupant says to stop fretting about something that's months away, largely intangible. the other says that anticipatory time permits prevention. argh.
cold, cold, cold, cold, cold. i've become such a winter pussy. i would never have thought this cold in montana, would never have noted the heaviness of my coat. it would have to be many degrees colder.
we want to go ice skating. maybe before he leaves again.
ice skating with him in new york was incredible, when we still had a bond, exactly 3 years ago, after we'd stuffed ourselves silly with his family, after i'd fallen in love with his family and their unpretentious ways. he was so good. and she was such a complainer, such a petty freak, the way she can often be, unable to seriously consider skating anywhere but an outdoor pond, offended by the commercial enterprise of her beloved childhood activity. he and i had fun without her and, for a moment, i thought we had something lasting. i don't know what happened. i crossed a line. he adopted a preferred personality. and we slowly drifted out of each other's lives.
he wrote me and shocked me last night. i didn't expect to find his name in my inbox or click to view his uneducated, very him, writing on my screen. he doesn't seem concerned about deployment. but he's never open with me unless i have him in front of me, bonding with me, for a good hour or more. then he'll relax, then he'll start to tell me what he really thinks and feels. it must be so hard for him now, trying to hide the real him from everyone around him. it must be so hard for him now to have to constantly match the machismo, to never be able to admit that he really, one day, wants to be a dad, and a good one, a husband, and the best kind. that he really believes in love, that he craves love more than idle fucking. he must feel so alone. before he was transferred and he was here to visit, i caught a glimmer of the real him, which he had carefully tucked away to protect from the judgmental eyes of his friends. his friends who i wanted in body bags just to keep them away from him. he is so impressionable. and, even if he's an adult, i don't think he should get to choose his friends. he can't pick anything but the worst. i want to establish some sort of ongoing communication, at least until he leaves. i want to be a safe place for him again, like i was that night when he finally decided to stop drinking himself sick and sit down to face me seriously, to recreate us outside the common ground. it's been almost 2 years. maybe we can have a quickie electronic recreation that's worth enough for me to be his outlet at least as long as he's still here. god, it scares me. i don't want to read his stats in the paper.
he's on my lap, nudging my arms, demanding love. and other more mundane tasks are screaming to be done. i need to call her. and i need to eat. again.