Lack of Respect?

It that what's missing?

I can't figure it out. Tonight is the first night Max and I have spent apart in a week. Not a bad thing. It has been an emotionally chaotic time and it's good to have some headspace.

He is spending the night at his ex-girlfriend, Anne's, apartment in the city. His own place is a bit of a commute, and whenever possible he likes to stay nearby work.

"Whoooooooa!" I hear you exclaim, "It doesn't sound to me like he is very committed."

But here's the thing. Anne is away on business more often than she is home. He has her keys and uses her apartment as a place to crash when she's not around. (He used to use it as a little more than a place to crash, but that's another story). I don't really care that he stays there when she's not there. It doesn't particularly thrill me, but I can handle it.

Tonight he claimed to be too tired to come over to my place. He was at Anne's and already sleeping. I had a bad feeling. The last time that we didn't spend the night together we had a huge blow up and went off to his lover Carolyn's place and fucked her - twice, he proudly told me.

Well, cut along story short..Max fell asleep early at Anne's place, but he woke up and went to have dinner wih Carolyn. He called to tell me this before going back to sleep, at Anne's, presumably on his own. No, I take that back. I know he is there on his own.

Still, it's a little fucked up no? I mean here we are, having just gotten back together, agreed on monogamy, a real desire to make this amazing relationship work, and a willingness to do the hard work to make it happen. But Max has to spend the night at his ex-girlfriend's apartment and have dinner with his lover - who he constantly reminds me that he is "very close to".

I really sound so insecure, and I am right now. For god's sake can't I have a grace period, just a little breather to not have to think about other women? As innocent as this dinner my have been, I really think it's inconsiderate and inappropriate.

What's your opinion? Am I an insecure clingy bitch or are is my disappointment and doubt valid?

Name Calling

M has requested that I give him a name and stop referring to him as 'M'.

So from now on, M will be known as Max.

Over and out.

Confessing to the Kid

The first time I met Zach, he felt it appropriate to inform me that I should be no means assume that I was special, not for one moment.

“My dad has lots of girlfriends,” he stated matter-of-factly. This was just about the first thing he said to me, as if to make sure I knew my place in the grand scheme of things.

“Oh really,“ I gulped, feeling a little humiliated by the fact that even this six year old knew I would never be enough for M. I tossed the inflated beach ball with a map of the world on it across the room into his golden brown arms.

“Yeah.” He threw it back.

Since then Zach and I have bonded in a way I never would have imagined. The extent of my love for this boy scares me. And my heart melts like butter in the sun every time he climbs onto my lap, or cuddles me before bedtime.

I don’t love Zach just because he is M’s son. I love Zach because he is Zach, yet my relationship with him is inextricably tied to my relationship with M.

So I was very touched on Friday night when M, reclining in his tattered lazyboy chair asked Zack, "Zach, how many girlfriends do I have?"

Zach blushed and looked down at his bare feet.

"Ummm....I don't know."

"One girlfriend Zach. I only have one girlfriend. Do you know what her name is?"

Zach blushed some more, obviously not wanting to talk about this. He looked at me nervously, afraid of giving the wrong answer.

"Flutterby is my girlfriend."

I have never been so happy.

Making Up

The last three weeks have been a wild emotional rollercoaster of enormous proportions. Steep climbs toward the blue sky, wide and spacious and light, followed by gut wrenching plummets into darkness and heart-stopping corkscrew spins.

It seems, I hope, that the ride is leveling out some.

M and I have had so much to talk about and work out, and having Zach around prevents us from having these conversations spontaneously. Instead we sit together on the couch, each on a separate laptop computer, and converse over IM, while Zach watches TV. Every now and then he’ll ask why we’re laughing, when we share a private typed joke on opposite ends of the couch with Zach cuddling in-between us.

M types, “I cannot imagine life without you. I really cannot. The thought of losing you just destroys me. I will go through a world of pain and hurt and destructive behavior without you.

“I love you with every single solitary cell in my body. I pine for you. I love your presence here. I love that you and Zach so love each other. BTW No Woody Allen activities allowed in 11 years.

“But because I love you so, well so HARD, the anger and hurt that I felt was equally intense.”

“As was / is mine, “ I answer, “I believe that you love me like you say you do. I always have. I think I even believed it before you did.

“What I don't understand is since you love me so much, why aren't you absolutely committed to making this work. Yes, it may not work out, in which case we will both be hurting like hell, but is that worse than deciding not to try at all, and hurting like hell now? And wondering for the rest of our lives what could have been if we had only tried?

“I really believe that our relationship could be "the one" so to speak. I have never felt this way about any man in my life before. All my other relationships have felt like pit stops on a long journey. But with you I feel like I have found the gold at the end of the rainbow.”

“This is the one. And with that comes so much joy and the potential for so so much pain.

”Question is...are you willing to take the risk? I am. Right now, with every cell in my body.

“I am hanging by a thread, so uncertain of what you will ultimately decide. But I will hang on with all my might until you pull me back up over the cliff or cut me loose."

He answers,

“Let's give it a try. Let's make this work. Let me make it my life's work to make you feel happy and safe. Really, and absolutely. I don't want to go down to the tow-pound in Manhattan to look for the next [Hometown]-girl with a [Hometown grocery store] bag Now pass the whiskey.

Later he types…

“ Don't have anything to say other than I am VERY happy and content to have you and Zach here with me. You make me feel wonderful

(When you are not cleaving my heart in two)”

Damn. He always has to get in that final jab.