What It's Not

I rolled over to hug the wall for the night in a futile effort to minimize body contact, something I know he doesn't like too much when sleeping. There are no quiet whisperings of things accomplished that day, or hopes for the future. A complete absence of witty bantering back and forth and hushed laughter in the darkness, feels foreign to me. Instead as I stare wide-eyed at the pattern on the wall, in the ever-deepening silence, a feeling grows in me. Overwhelming sadness bubbles up from somewhere inside and I take deep breaths trying to silence it. I am hyper-aware of the body next to me and try desperately not to betray what is happening. A silent tear pools at the corner of my eye and slides noiselessly down my cheek, falling to rest on my pillow. Another quickly follows and joins the growing wetness. The trick of silent crying learned years ago saves me from waking him up to discover the pitiful scene.

As the tears continue to fall and the ache in my chest grows deeper I yearn for what is gone. The knowledge that I long for Mr. Intellectual at that moment hits me like a shock. It has been almost 2 years to the day since we broke up and for the most part I had put away all feelings I had for him, particularly in the bedroom, but apparently I was wrong. The contrasts between the man sleeping peacefully beside me and Mr. Intellectual are starkly blatant. That realization for unknown reasons makes me miss Mr. Intellectual intensely. It is in that moment that I know what this 'relationship' is not and the tears continue to fall.