Christmas For Two

Christmas at home was even worse than last year. Dinah had decided almost in the last moment that she couldn’t face sitting at the table with me after all, so we had two celebrations again. First the family with Dinah, and then I went over and they did it all again, with fresh plates and fresh candles on the tree. It was a farce. Everybody tried to be nice and ok, but it is just horrible and will never be anything else. Having a suffering, sulking Dinah at the table would not have been better, either. I ate very much, but not – as one might think – as a reaction out of a bad feeling, but just because I had allowed myself to eat as much as I wanted on Christmas Eve. But it is hard to stop. Anyway, I felt too full on the way home and my whole body was bloated the next day and I did not feel good. I slept in and later cleaned the flat for Tom’s visit that night, and then went for a long, long run.

Well, it was long for me: 10km! With only short walking breaks, usually up steep hills. The weather was quite warm and wonderfully clear and sunny. I had some new music and let it carry me in glorious sprints, past groups of walkers. It made me think of Atalanta, because I had been listening to Ovid (inspired by Tom). All the Christmas biscuits and chocolate gave me lots of energy, and even though I could still see the extra water bloat, I felt strong and light and did not hate my body. Tom came a little earlier than planned, so I was not quite dressed and ready, but it didn’t matter. We are so familiar with each other now, having spent days and nights together, I don’t feel I always have to look my best in his presence.

It was lovely. We cooked together, making a salad and ham in a bread crust, and Tom had brought a small strawberry cake for dessert. I put on my midnight blue lace dress that has a little cutout in the back and Tom enjoyed stroking my skin there whenever we embraced, sending shivers down my spine and watching me squirm. We hugged and kissed a lot, waiting for the ham to finish, and then we ate dinner and put away the things and said we would have dessert later. Now came the moment of truth: the exchange of gifts. I had feared that my gift – a black and silver pen – was very boring, and it was, compared to his. Tom gave me two gifts: a book, Phainomena by Aratos, an ancient greek philosopher, describing the stars and the constellations. And a silver necklace with a sickle moon and star, because I had said I always wanted to remember the night of our first kiss, as he said. I gave it to him to clasp around my neck and then we kissed, and I told him he was the greatest gift of all, and he said the same, and we kissed a little more.

 

We slept in each others’ arms and Tom made adorable sleepy affectionate sounds when I stirred, and towards morning when I wanted to move away because I was cramped, he tightened his hold on me instinctively. He told me he always had the same dream whenever he slept alone now, of holding me in his arms, and usually woke up embracing his duvet. When we woke, we cuddled for the longest time and my hip and back grew really stiff from staying in the same position for so long, but it was so nice. He had snored loudly most of the night and it had disturbed my sleep, though. This time, Tom said he would get up first and went into the shower and I got a glass of Pepsi and lay back down. Then he said he would go to the bakery to buy fresh rolls and make breakfast, and I got up and got ready and he had almost finished when I came out. It was so incredibly sweet of him. We ate breakfast together and it felt as if we had been doing this forever. The familiarity between us is lovely to feel, even though I liked the novelty and excitement just as much and am a little sad at how fast things are progressing, how used to each other we already are.

Tom would have to work again that night, so we only had a few hours left. We went for a short walk in the neighbourhood and I showed him the ballet studio around the corner and the playground where I had watched the shooting stars this summer and wished for love, among other things. In the end, we came back to the church terrace and went down the stairs and sat on a bench in the sun, like an elderly couple warming their bones, and held hands and talked and were silent together. Once I asked him what his ‘type’ of woman was, and first he said ‘you’. He likes my voice and said several times that he thinks I am girlish and that it’s something he likes. He also said he liked that I am short, although I am not really short, more average, but no taller than he. And he said he didn’t see me as big or fat at all, that I maybe have a distorted image of myself. (Well, that’s nice to hear, but I still feel fat, and too big compared to him.) But then he said (and he’s said it several times) that he used to be a lot more goth until quite recently, and that he once tutored a girl who was ‘totally his type’, with red hair and piercings and tattoos. I can’t remember whether he said she was skinny, too. But she wasn’t a good match as far as personality and education went and he said he thought he would have been bored by her quite fast if they had been lovers. God, I’m really glad he doesn’t have a lot of ex-girlfriends. I could not deal with it because I’m so insecure. Even hearing him talk about his female friends who are married or have boyfriends and were never interested in him as it seems, makes me wonder and feel slightly jealous. I told him that he was not my type at all, but then thought it might make him feel bad, so added that if I had passed him on the street I would not have looked at him twice, so I was glad we met online. And that the more you liked somebody, the more beautiful they became. He didn’t ask what my type was. I wonder why. Maybe he doesn’t want to worry about it every time somebody of my type shows up. Maybe he is totally above such insecurities, or maybe he’s so insecure he doesn’t dare ask. Anyway, I’ve made it clear that I like him and find him attractive now.

When we were cold, we went back home. We stood in the kitchen and embraced and kissed again and again, lovingly but not too passionately. The time went by too fast. But there is a slight feeling of distance. There are things we are not telling each other, and there are insecurities within me. Relationships are so complicated. We have taken huge steps in the last week. I need to give it time and calm down.

But yes, when he was gone, I ate too much again and then slept for countless hours and woke up next morning in pain, feeling stiff and half sick, but I had to get up and go to ballet class. Class and later HIIT and a long stretching session, together with very healthy food and lots of water, made me feel much better in my body and much more normal. No idea if the strange mood is only due to hormones or if I’ve been abandoning myself again or what the hell is going on. All I know is that I feel addicted to Tom again and have withdrawal symptoms, and life seems boring and pretty pointless.

About annalienor

Lover of beauty, adult ballet student, deliberate creator wannabe.
This entry was posted in Family, Health, Love, Moment. Bookmark the permalink.

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