He came home last night sometime after 9pm (we had talked around 7 and he said that he shouldn’t be much more than an hour) with a huge smile on his face. After how sick he had been for the past week, I was happy to see that he was feeling better – enough to (sort of) balance the less-happy part of me for him coming home so much later than he had said he would. Plus I knew he had been studying, which was good, but I had never seen anyone so thrilled with life after a multi-hour study session.
He asked if I wanted tea, telling me I did and singing in the kitchen as he got everything ready. When he came back into the living room with the tea he was also carrying two plates with cheesecake on them. And I started crying.
He had been meaning to bring me flowers for two days, he said (I started crying again), for taking such good care of him while he was sick. On a totally unrelated note, he never notices anything when he walks in the street – just focused on getting to his destination. But last night while he was walking home, he saw a bakery and thought of a recent conversation we had had about how much I like cheesecake (the American kind, not the Israeli kind). He thought of me when he usually doesn’t even notice or think about anyone or anything. He was on a happy high because he loves me, and it felt great to realize it every once in a while.
Is it any wonder I cried? And then we ate the cake, found a ridiculous Australian movie on TV and made popcorn, because cheesecake followed by popcorn is a wholesome, nutritious dinner. I have a great life.
Having a real relationship is tough. I’ve never had something like this, where I care so much and I want to make it work and it’s so intense sometimes I don’t know if I can handle it. We saved it last night, and I hope that makes us stronger than ever – but I know it’s not going to be easy. I guess they say anything worth having doesn’t come easily.
I’m in love. The real kind, with pleasure and pain and highs and lows and you put up with it because the relationship and that other person is more than the fight. It is very difficult, more than I would have imagined. No matter what happens, I am learning so much. I hope I will continue learning with him forever, but I can’t know that yet. For now, I am loving and crying and fighting and flying because as I’m learning, that’s what love is.
I wanna ride.
I started a new job yesterday (yes, I have been going through transition after transition after transition the last few months and no, I don’t like it). The first day was… good. It was hours of meetings, but they were really interesting because my boss and the people he meets with know what they’re doing and are very good at it. They were talking about a project (company) they developed, then one talked about a couple of other projects he had going and they decided to take them on no sweat, even though it would almost double the amount of money they would have to raise this “round” – we’re talking about millions of Euros, here. It’s exciting and intimidating and I’m really looking forward to working on these things!
On the other hand, it should come as no surprise that I have nothing in common with old, rich religious entrepreneurs. When in the first meeting, they were laughing about the close call one of them had in getting home just 10 min before “Shabbos” came in, I thought….. nothing. I had nothing for that conversation. I have never even traveled for work, let alone thought about the Jewish holy day of rest in relation to travel, except in how it affects the bus schedule to and from the airport. I suppose I will find common ground, but in the meantime it’s just a little awkward. Gotta love it!