A sonata in three movements
Long-distance is its own pressure on a relationship. Lobe's visit was great. There was a severely dismal slump in the middle, that extended to about a day and a half of his three-day visit... but I wouldn't say that detracted from the joy of seeing him. Yeah, fuck, it was grim. At one point, he was wondering whether he should head back earlier. The apex of gloom was over a late lunch on Sunday, at a cheapish noodle house in the city. We picked at the food, dispiritedly. Something ailed, and I had no idea what.
Lobe said "this feels weird." I asked some questions, scratching dirt for stones. Was it weird, seeing me in a different city, especially somewhere he usually comes to visit his friends? I could imagine it would be odd... particularly as he hadn't told Grotto's and his closest mutual friend that he's in town. Yeah, there was that, but it wasn't that.
I asked him to be as explicit as he could be about what was bothering him. Seemed pointless to hold things back, if you're talking about escaping the situation anyway (i.e. heading home). Lobe thought, and then said - he felt like maybe I'd come to meet him straight after fucking someone else. It seems like this niggle had compounded into a generalised mood of distrust for me, and distrust for this relationship being a safe space for him.
Wow. When I met Lobe on Friday night, coming off the airport bus, I was full of desire for him. He'd taken a flight straight after a work function, and then had to wait a while in the airport, so was well lubricated. I had spent the day nesting, and working up an appetite for him. We decided to walk home, and kept making frantic pitstops along the way. When we eventually got home, we fucked about some more, then crashed out.
Saturday was somewhat chirpy, but I could tell something was off.
By Sunday, there was a full-blown fog.
An unhurried, cautious clinical examination of what's triggering what. There are some reasons, yes - including a physical complication during sex that we're trying to figure out. But, mostly a jumble of annoyingly inexplicable emotions. This shit's just big, complex. I could empathise with where Lobe was coming from, I really could. He sees himself as monogamous. He's okay with me having other partners, but doesn't expect he'd want any himself. He hates, hates, hates long distance relationships. His ideal life partnership would be monogamous, uncomplicated... (ha!) This relationship would be difficult for his family to understand or accept, and isn't something he can currently discuss with his friends.
That's a lot of gunk. I'm surprised he's still finding this worthwhile! He says that it is hard but it's good. He is liking what it is.
Monday was compassionate, colleagial. We did some of our own work, side-by-side in the living room, played a video game together and cooked. We slept close. He left early this morning, a 5.30am taxi to the airport.
Ech, processing. It's like the brutal hangover of intimacy.
I don't mind though, to be honest. The pain of it is somewhat comforting. This is real, we're really doing it.