I started this blog partly because I thought I might be breaking up with T. (also known as freedomgirl, but don’t tell her I said so). Yet here we are, making our new lives together so far, wedding rings tucked safely away.
We’re watching the L Word, working our way through the whole thing, up to season three now. I come a little unglued when Tina cries, so (spoiler alert) that scene at the end of season two where she has the baby? It was rough. T. looks a little like her, and obviously we have some of that Bette & Tina long-term relationship drama over here.
After fourteen years together, we’ve been through some stuff. The Christmas before last, she got chicken pox—not a good thing when you’re grown up. The night she passed out and hit her head on the bathtub ranks as one of the most frightening moments of my life. Mostly, though, it was two weeks of constant vigilance, sitting by the bed, kneeling by the couch, bringing her what she needed, comforting her the best I could, watching for any sign of the complications the doctor had explained to me. Everything was ok in the end but it was genuinely terrifying and I have a profound respect now for anyone who cares for a chronically, seriously ill partner.
So this scene with Tina reminded me of all that, the helplessness I felt when she was suffering and all I could do was whisper, “ok, it’s going to be ok,” and hope that I was telling the truth.
We got up to get something cold to drink and I pressed her against the wall in the dark kitchen, holding her hot, damp body to mine.
“You have to promise to take care of yourself, ok? Because I love you so much...”
“Ok,” she said. “But you have to promise to fuck me. Lots.”
And that’s how it is, yin to yang, heat to cold, seriousness to laughter, sex and caring all wrapped up in one complicated dance.
Sounds like a good deal to me, baby.