Oh, that's what I wanted...

Okay, let’s try this again…

Started this entry earlier in the evening but it went wildly awry so let’s see if I can wrangle it in.

I realize why this whole thing with the Filmmaker is making me just slightly insane.

It makes me miss being in a Relationship. That’s Relationship with a capital R.

We’re currently in a relationship with a lower case r. Or maybe somewhere in between - a superscript R maybe?

What’s the difference?

A relationship with a capital R implies commitment, it implies consistency, it implies the idea that that person will always be there for you. They’re the one you go to when you have problems, the one you turn to when things break down, the one who you can plan with six months, a year, two years out without wondering if that’s going to freak them out.

A lower case R implies casualness, impulsivity, spontaneity. It implies that maybe that person will be there, if you really, really need them to be. If your car breaks down, they will probably rescue you but they may not be exactly the person to go to when your life breaks down. You plan maybe as far out as six days if it’s something really important. But the lower case relationship always feels like it’s on the edge of not existing, so it’s exciting and breathless and a bit scary.

A superscript R is where I am right now.

And it makes me miss the capital R relationship.

I realized this in the middle of the day yesterday. I had gone over to the Filmmaker’s Thursday night to meet him and go out to this thing at a comic book shop (yes, we’re both geeks, get over it). And then we were going out on Friday night as well. And we didn’t really discuss the fact that I’d probably be at his place from Thursday night through this morning (Saturday morning) but I packed enough stuff just in case.

And yesterday, I suddenly missed the capital R relationship.

We got up lazily, letting the morning wake us up. He had a quick, tiny shoot to do in the morning for a web series he does and he asked me to help. Then he spent most of the day upstairs in his office, working on plugging this little bit into the episode so he could meet a deadline. I spent the day on the couch, drawing illustrations for a children’s book I’m doing and then reading “High Fidelity” by Nick Hornsby.

And suddenly, I felt like we were in a capital R relationship.

We’ve gotten to the comfortable point where we don’t have to fill every minute with conversation. We fall asleep on the couch while watching Jon Stewart. There was the unspoken assumption that I would simply be at his place while he worked since we had plans so close together.

But we’re not there yet. Superscript R, not a full capital R.

And I realized that part of the reason I kind of freak out when we’re not together is that, at times, this feels like a capital R relationship.

And I miss that.

I miss being married. I miss being with that person, every day, all the time. I miss calling him to see what he wants for dinner and what we’re doing for the evening. I miss knowing that I will fall asleep with him every single night and wake up to him every single morning. I miss the just having him there, being there, being together always.

And I’m not saying I want to marry the Filmmaker. I don’t know that I ever want to get married again. Or even live with somebody again.

But I miss having that someone be there all the time.

Because my favorite thing is curling up with him at night, once we settle into bed, my head on his shoulder, his arm pulling me in thisclose, tangled up with one another. I love that when I roll over a bit, he now automatically cuddles up behind me, wrapped around me this time.

And I love waking up in the morning, when he slowly opens his eyes and realizes I’m awake and opens his arms up and pulls me in again, retangling, reconnecting, our bodies fitting together so well and so instinctively now that it’s effortless.

And during the night, when we’re twisted together and he’s almost asleep, his unconscious will pulls me unexpectedly closer, with just enough awareness that it takes my breath away.

And in those moments, all I can think is that I wish I were here every night, tangled up with him every night, and waking to his embrace every morning.

And I miss the capital R.

I miss knowing that he’ll be there (or someone will be there) when I get home. I miss the sharing of space and the sharing of a life. I miss that casual intimacy that comes from the capital R.

And as I lazed on his couch yesterday, drawing, napping, reading, occasionally going up to check on his progress and see if he needed anything, I realized we’re just shy of the capital R. We’re superscript. I was so comfortable there, feeling no rush to be anywhere else. I was not only welcome there, I was expected to be there. When he said he had a shoot and asked me to help, there was no assumption that I would go home during the long period between the shoot and when we were going out. Plenty of time for me to go home, for him to work, for him to pick me up, for us to just be lower case r.

But there was no expectation that I would leave between Thursday afternoon and Saturday morning. No discussion about whether or not I’d stay that long, no decision for me to leave, no feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be there, that I was in the way.

And I yearned for that capital R.

And I don’t know if I want that capital R with the Filmmaker. It certainly feels like that’s where we’re going but I’m trying not to expect that. Because this relationship is enough lower case r that it could all end tomorrow.

But that sense of belonging in his condo, that sense of expectation that I would simply be there felt so good and so right and so comfortable, it made me ache to be in a place where that was every single day. To be with someone with that casual expectation of being with them always, all the time, every single freakin’ day.

And I missed it so very much.

Because as bad as my marriage was towards the end, he was always there. And we fell asleep every night, spooned up, him being wrapped around me. And maybe at some time, maybe earlier in the marriage before we hurt each other irreparably, maybe it felt like it does with the Filmmaker - safe, warm, loved, effortless. Maybe his arms didn’t always feel like a cage.

And maybe that’s why it takes us so long to leave any relationship, because we live for that sense of belonging to someone, that sense of place with someone. Because if we leave them, how will we ever find that again? How can we ever occupy a space with someone again? So we stay and we live within that expectation of being there while at the same time, clawing to get out.

And that’s what makes me afraid of the capital R relationship. I don’t want to let that capital R take over my life, the way I’ve allowed it to before. Part of me wants to keep the Filmmaker a lower case r because then I can keep him out of areas of my life where I’m afraid to let him in. I can keep a distance and keep him at arm’s length emotionally and not invite him into the places I invited others before, others like the Poet, who I tried to share with and only ended up with empty spaces inside once they’ve gone.

And part of me wants to keep that distance because when this one ends -- and in my mind, it will end because others who I’ve invited in and who have gotten not even this close have always left -- this one’s gonna hurt like a mofo because he’s moved into the places I’ve tried to keep him out of. And if I let him in any more, I’m not sure I will be able to keep him a lower case r.

And I wonder if he feels this pull, this draw, this looming capital R. And does that freak him out a little bit, because sometimes I think he works very hard to keep us at the lower case level so he won’t have to commit, he won’t have to be there every day, for his own reasons, as deep and as complicated as my own reasons are probably.

But I miss it. And sometimes, as much as I hate to admit it, it makes me miss him, my ex, because he was always there, whether I wanted him to be or not.

But for now, I’ll have to settle for those moments of capital R, those glimpses of what could be, if either or both of us would let it. And live for those capital R moments, when he holds me, when he’s next to me, just being, just living, just existing. And push away the desire for the capital and just embrace the superscript.