Originally Posted - 19 Sept 2008
My love and his wife have gone away today to celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary. They had decided many many months ago that they would stop at this particular place on this particular event. It was booked way back in the spring despite him hinting that it was rather alot of money (nearly gave himself away there as he is usually a much complained about spend thrift and Mrs db keeps a tight hold on the household finances - ha a financial domme no less) and the day has festered away over the ensuing weeks, me dreading it utterly and poor db in a dreadful state because he feels he is betraying me when the high day and holiday marital sex takes place.
The day has arrived and I am writing words. Foolishly, stupidly, but words I want to put down because I am unable to put them in a text to him. I was so prepared for this morning, had dealt with the demons in my head, had taken on board the words he had spoken to me last week telling in quite graphic detail how 'things' were between them, I know in my heart that he is mine and that he loves me.
So why, oh why did I torture myself by looking at the hotel?
I have looked on several occasions, out of nosiness, curiosity but had not found any that seemed remotely as grand as he had implied. But last night, bored and out of morbid curiosity I googled 3 silly words. Place. Castle. Hotel.
And of course, this time, bingo. Just at the time I could really have done with failing I hit the jackpot, first time.
Oh what a mix of emotions.
It is magnificent and stunning and part of me will want to hear all about it and all the details. The rooms look incredible, the countryside beautiful, the tariffs terrifying. Of course I will get to hear about it, that is us, our chatter and our conversation, maybe not straight away but he will tell and I will ask all about the wondrous place he has visited. We share everything.
I imagined my lovely him there, with incredulous delight at all the castle-y bits and wanting to explore and discover hidden corners, I looked at the high-brow restaurant and wondered if he would enjoy it (hates getting formally dressed and it is very formal), the words of a story I wrote for him when I knew he would have to be suited and booted and how I would get him to comply if it were us that were going tumbling through my head and torn between hoping that they would flit through his mind too and not wanting them to while he is there.
The rooms are the stuff fairy tales are made of and in my head I can only imagine our delight at them, our fun with the size of the beds, the luxury of the bathrooms and the glamour of the surroundings and my heart ached wishing we could share an experience such as that.
In sensible moments a little later before I slept I lay exchanging text messages with him, I knew that as he said, I too would sooner be at our cheap Travelodge with him than in such sumptuous surroundings with anyone else, would prefer eating Domino’s pizza naked on the bed than sit dining in any highbrow hotel restaurant and when I wander around our country park with him, could I be in a more wondrous place, do I actually even notice where I am?
I fell asleep quicker than I expected and deeper than I hoped. But then I woke, around 3.30 and lay unsleeping, head in blurred sleepy over-drive, as heads tend to do in the wee hours when there is a lot going on in them. Not stressing over the logistics of it particularly, more so over the romance of it all. I know him. I know how he is with me and I know, that although he has said he is not that way with Mrs db, that he will want it to be and do everything in his power to make it the special day it should be. I know he will because that is him, this is what he does, it’s who he is and it is one of the things about him that I have fallen so deeply in love with. Those thoughts are a lot harder to deal with than the whys and wherefores of the location however brutal seeing the place had felt.
I eventually drifted back off to sleep to disturbed dreams but when I woke I felt ok, tired and my back stiff and sore but ok. Dreams felt surreal and strange but my head was ok. I had slept and survived and the day was here and I was ok. I watched my phone waiting for a morning message hardly daring to send one myself in case it got ignored (we have agreed not to text each other while he is away, the 30 hours or so he will be away being the longest time there has ever been between any kind of contact since we have met) but eventually I sent my morning hello and waited. What a relief when my little phone sprang to life a while later. Words from him, words expressing love and telling me he was awake and thinking of me, how I am trapped by the lure of those words. I was ok.
When everyone had gone I busied myself getting my tea and breakfast, feeding cats, unloading dishwasher and watching the clock tick round. When that last text came through saying he wouldn’t text again, that they were setting off I sobbed, great gut-wrenching-curled-in-corner-of-kitchen sobs, I cried out of fear and hurt and anguish and the knowledge that it was all now so out of my domain. It was agreed that there would be no contact as it was not fair on any of us but at this moment I would give anything for a moment of unfairness and be able to read his words.
I have got myself together and written these words. Of course I will survive. I won’t shrivell up into a blob and dissolve. It won’t have been the end of my world. I will still be breathing in and out. And I really do hope that he enjoys his time and it is not tarnished by feelings of guilt and betrayal for either of us. And secretly, selfishly, I pray with all my heart that she hasn’t got something up her sleeves that steal him back away from me.
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