Seriously though, WTF?

I leave for Italy for a month today. He was supposed to drive me to the airport. He just left my home.It’s been three weeks and two days since I met him. In three days it will have been three weeks since I fell in love with him. In those three weeks we have spent exactly two nights apart. He would drive three hours round trip to be with me everyday that he left for work. We would have some serious conversations in bed, those are what got me. He was honest and vulnerable and would show both his soft side and his hard side. We connected.

Since doing the ayahuasca my heart has been so sensitive. I would think of him and my heart would surge and ache. We would hold each other and I could feel them connecting like magnets. Right now, as I sit at my table, still feeling him inside of me, my heart is literally aching. I told him one night that it felt like he was the missing puzzle piece. Like I had an idea of what my future would look like (I have a fantastic imagination) but the man that I was with by the pool, in the desert, IN my future...when I look up now, I look directly into his eyes.

From the beginning of this I have been trying to think with my head and not my heart. I knew I was going to go to Italy for a month. I was PLANNING on spending that entire time drinking, eating, and sleeping my way through the country (and writing about it). Now, I don’t know. We’ve been telling each other I love you, for over two weeks. I wish I could remember the night that he asked if I was in love with him. It went from an awkward, oh god are we really at this point, even though in my mind I couldn’t stop saying it over and over and over. The next day was the same...and then it became so natural. He would tell me in Spanish and English, and I would say it in English and then started to say it in Spanish. I wrote it on a sticky note that he now has on his truck’s dash. I wanted it to be the last thing we said every night to each other, and then last night he kind of aggressively responded, "Yeah, me too." Ouch. This morning he was distant, and said there wasn’t anything to talk about when I would ask him to tell me what he was thinking about. I think at one point he was crying, and then later it turned into sniffles from allergies. We went out to breakfast together, he kept his hands folded. He’d get defensive when I would tell him I couldn’t read his mind, and I couldn’t spend the rest of the day having him not talk to me.

We came back home and not much had changed. We got in bed together fully clothed and held each other like we were sinking and we were each other's life preserver. He said this was torture. I responded that him not telling me what was on his mind was torture. I instantly go to Worst Case Scenarioville. Maybe he doesn’t really love me, maybe he’s using me for my great bed, maybe he’s not attracted to me anymore, maybe he’s too attractive for me. Maybe...he’s going to start drinking while I’m gone. Maybe he’ll get locked up while I’m away. Maybe he’ll meet some hot little latina that will let him live the self destructive life he was living before he met me and he’ll die of cirrhosis of the liver in a year. Maybe he’s not who I should come home to. Maybe I don’t know him well enough and we don’t have anything in common except for our love of late eighties/early nineties alternative music and tacos. And the amazing chemistry, and unquestionable love for eachother.

I’m sitting here, at the kitchen table, waiting for him to call me. To say that him and his mother are on their way here. That he’s so sorry and he never should have left me. That I’ll meet his father, and be there for him in a way that shows his parents that I truly love him and can care for him. But instead I’m going to see how much Uber is going to take me for. Catch up on the 102 things I was planning on doing before he came into my life and turned it upside down and inside out . Made me feel so complete, so right, so in love, so happy. Fuck, so happy. I spent eleven years with someone that was inherently miserable. Someone that everyday I had to keep his spirits up, make him smile, do everything that I could to get him to realize how special his life was, and me. It was exhausting, and I would try to quit every few years, to throw in the towel. I was always on. Always trying to please him. With this guy, we laugh and smile constantly. We have such a great time together. We’ve not missed a Warriors game since we met. He is this perfect height to hold me around my waist so that we can walk side by side, completely touching. He’s told me I’m beautiful. How is it that in twelve years I can probably count on both hands how many times I’ve heard that from someone that isn’t a friend? And now, from someone that I grow more and more attracted to each day; to the point that I’m like, why are you even with me, you are SO gorgeous. And then I get insecure again, and question the entire thing. And I make him reassure me to the point that he probably resents me and ever meeting me.

So now, all of his things are gone, his drawer is empty. The only thing that remains is the toothbrush that I gave him in the medicine cabinet. My bags are by the door. I couldn’t be less excited about going to Italy for a month. Did you hear that? I couldn’t be less excited about going to ITALY for a MONTH.

He doesn’t know about this blog. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’s a very traditional, conservative, monogamous person, and seems to be a tad jealous and protective. And from what I can tell he’s pretty private too. I’ve pretty much told him everything in this post though. I don’t know what’s going to happen over the next month. I’m spending at most a week in each location, not enough time to fall in love. Probably a ton of time to have dozens of little romances. But do I risk that? Do I risk losing him over flings? Or do I risk not having the trip of a lifetime to be loyal to someone that I barely know? Someone that could be all wrong for me. Someone that is so on the edge, he may relapse and not be the same person when I get back.

I feel like there was so much left unsaid, but that at the same time we couldn’t say anything. Talking about the future felt too unreal, too optimistic. I was planning our life down to the last detail, while not knowing what this next month would do to me, to us, or to him.

We’ve been talking about getting married since something like our second day together as a couple. It got more and more serious, and felt more and more right. Even though he was always the one to bring it up, I was almost crazy enough to do it! He even said, why don’t we get married before you leave? I almost did. I loved him that much that if it meant we’d be together forever and living the future that I was envisioning then why not start it right now? They must have a speedy prenup option in Tahoe right? Fuck, I was even thinking about having his children. Neither of us wants kids, but something insane in me was saying, "I want to have his babies!"

He just texted asking if I was good, my response was no. He asked what’s up, I told him to concentrate on him and his family. I know how that’s going to sound. And honestly I mean it in both ways. His father is having traumatizing surgery that may or may not save his life, and he needs to be there for him and his mother, and the other part of me is pissed that he wasn’t strong enough to let me be there with him and then take me to the airport, that that was selfish of him. But I know how fragile he is, I don’t want him to risk his sobriety or anything else because of stress from me. So what do I do? Do I get on a plane and arrive in Venice with an Italian hard on? Do I Facetime him in tears everyday? Do I come back and marry him and move to Mexico and have an amazing life filled with more love and passion and joy than I ever could have imagined for myself while I was caught in a near loveless marriage?