I just wrote about Tom, and it seems to me that he is all I write about lately. It’s just that he is a huge and very new aspect of my life, and I spend a lot of time either with him or thinking about him. He was here again on Monday night. I realised next morning, though, that I can’t keep trying to write down everything we do and talk about. Yes, it’s special and I want to ‘preserve’ everything and remember when we did and said what, when I felt or realised anything significant, and everything he tells me. But the longer we know each other and the more time we spend together, the harder and more time-consuming this gets. I have already forgotten some things he told me. That’s inevitable, it’s normal. I will keep writing down the important things, but not try to record every mundane detail any more.
Ok, so Monday. We had dinner in the cafeteria and then walked up to my flat, where Tom gave me a heart-shaped box of chocolates as a belated Valentine’s Day gift. On one hand, I’m happy because he thought about it and got me something, which I didn’t truly expect. On the other hand, he didn’t go to a lot of trouble to get special chocolates from a special shop, which is what I would have done in his place. But I am not Tom. I would also, for example, never have bought just any lightsaber from the toy department, but would have researched to find the best version. We each ate one chocolate. I don’t like this kind very much, but their taste reminds me of my childhood.
I started kissing Tom this time, and we embraced, and I remembered our first kiss, and told him about it and how strange it had felt, not like in my imagination. I’m used to it now and really like kissing him. Tom asked me what I wanted to do, and I let him choose because it didn’t matter to me as long as I was close to him. We watched another episode of Sherlock, the one where they say, ‘Caring is not an advantage’, and, ‘Love is a chemical defect found on the losing side.’ I used to tell myself such things in my dark and bitter moments, and it does have a certain tragic appeal on screen. But in real life it just leaves you cold and lonely. Letting go of that mindset was so worth it. Risking my heart led me to Tom and I’m so incredibly happy with him at the moment.
After the episode, Tom drew me into his arms and started kissing me. I was true to myself, however, and went to the loo because I had to, even though I felt that Tom would have liked me to stay and not interrupt the moment. When I came back, he was lying on the bed in the dark and I lay down next to him. We kissed and cuddled and once almost fell off the bed. Then I laughed and we turned around and now Tom was worried about pushing me against the wall, but I said between kisses that I didn’t mind and even liked being pushed against the wall, although I preferred it when standing. It felt bold to say that, but I was in a lighthearted and bold mood. I hope he remembers. We sometimes kissed, sometimes caressed each other’s face, hair, hands. It was dark, but I could see his face and eyes a little. His expression sometimes took on a look of something I can only call love, full of softness and with a faint smile. But then I felt the same expression on my own face. Once he said, ‘I’m so happy with you,’ and I didn’t want to say, ‘Me, too,’ because I do that every time, so I just let my reaction speak and said, ‘Oh, Tom,’ and kissed him and held him even closer, and then added that I still couldn’t believe it.
I grew very sleepy and once fell asleep a little with my head on his chest. When I woke up, Tom said he had noticed it because I always twitch when falling asleep. It was getting late and I would have liked to get ready for bed and sleep, but it was also so wonderful to lie there with Tom in the dark and feel so loved, and love him so much. He said he would like to never let go of me again (which made me feel warm and fuzzy somewhere in my chest). And I said we could hold each other all night, and we remembered one such night and recalled how he had held me in his sleep and not let me move away. At last, we got ready and went to bed. I wore my short pyjamas again, but Tom only saw me wearing the (still very short, but not that short) dressing gown. I allowed our naked knees and thighs to touch a little, though, and we fell asleep holding hands. I slept very deeply and well. No need to describe the joy of waking up with Tom yet again. It was lovely.
At breakfast, we talked about the new semester which starts soon. Tom will have early mornign lectures three days a week, and will spend those nights with me. But he said I should continue doing my usual classes and he would need the time to work. I once again brought up the topic of giving him a spare key to my flat, which he always dismissed before, but now he agreed. When I go to ballet class after work, he can come to my flat in the evening whenever he wants and work or eat or just relax. He just wanted me to know that he wouldn’t enter my flat at other times without telling me. But it’s ok, I don’t think I would mind. All my secrets are on my computer or phone, unless one were to keep track of my pantry and waste bin at times when I eat too much. And I think Tom would never nose around. If it were me however, I’d be sorely tempted because I am so curious and have always been fascinated by other people’s lives. He will also leave some things here, more than a toothbrush and bottle of deodorant in the bathroom.
This all starts next week, so there will be another change, another step closer. I’m excited for the most part, but hope we won’t start to annoy each other with little domestic things. I will have to be more open with him about the way I usually eat and plan my food and count everything. We will have to make compromises. But the dominant feeling is one of hopeful anticipation. I’m practicing a little this week, imagining coming home from class not to an empty flat, but to Tom. It feels good, but also as if it would be more stressful. We’ll see how it goes.