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Alone 2015-05-14 - 4:33 a.m. 
What I miss most from the early days of dating and our marriage are the looks. I remember when my wife used to regard me with genuine adoration. It was the first time I had been with someone where it just clicked in place, like rack and pinion steering on the tight turns that had been the polyamory situation with Tom and its aftermath. She would sometimes be afraid, sometimes have nightmares about losing me, or me cheating on her, but those became more infrequent. I miss the sense of an us. We had barely a few years before she got pregnant, and I took the job in Baltimore, and stress fucked with our brains. It was then that things started to change, but especially after our son was born. She became critical of any shortcoming or failure I manifested, particularly when it came to my lapses in attention or not fully listening to what she was talking about. Even this resolved itself in a way mostly. She complains less nowadays. I put forward considerable conscious effort to listen to details, regardless of if I have an interest in them or not. Sometimes she returns the favor, sometimes not. All I talk about is work. All I have is work. All I have time to cultivate is work. But the thing I notice most are the looks. They hurt. They are the kinds of looks born of being perpetually sleep deprived, and irritated with being a full-time mom, and sometimes of resigned disappointment in me. She notices me most when I have done something wrong, or when she can offload the boy when I get home. There is the rarest flicker of what was once there, and then its gone. Like a daydream or a fever. And I wonder if I have had a hallucination. And where I am in this waking limbo. I feel alone. |
