Sandcastles

Something hit me like a truck about 5.30 yesterday afternoon as I drove back for my weekend away with my Not Boyfriend. I’m deeply in like with this man.

We had spent the previous 46 hours together. We chatted, briefly, he’s the strong silent type when he’s not begging me to spank him harder. We’d laid on the beach together, he’d slept while I built a sandcastle (yes I know I’m supposed to be 35). We’d slept in separate rooms. I’d been introduced to his parents and family and mentioned at least five or six times that we were simply friends and not an item when asked. I’d laid next to him in his bed wearing a t-shirt and pants (knickers) while we watched a movie. We played pool together. We’d walked along a beach together in the sunshine. We’d fed baby kangaroos.

But it was at 5.30 as I drove home, him sat by my side shuffling the tunes on the iPod, that that feeling of sadness and mild despair hit me. This is never going to be more. He’s not even open to it being more. Do I withdraw from the situation to prevent further longing and potential heart ache or do I cling to the moments we have and enjoy them?

I’ve come to the conclusion that I am going to enjoy the time we have together even if that never again involves me donning the latex. I simply enjoy his company. I’m going to go on, day by day knowing that in the middle of June I’m going to board a plane for an indefinite amount of time and that may or may not wash away all that we’ve built. Very much like the waves melt away sandcastles.