Indefinite Hiatus

When I wrote that I didn't know quite what to say about Chicago, that was a bit of prevarication.

Though I came back from Chicago in a bit of an emotional mish mash, I knew pretty well what I was feeling, and I'm sure I could have found the words - I almost always can - but it wasn't right to post about it then.

When CT came to Ottawa, I wrote that it took a couple of days for us to find our stride. But once we clicked, we really clicked, and we were meshed, tight.

It was the opposite in Chicago. The first couple of days, things were like they had been in Ottawa. But on Friday we switched rooms, and that seemed to be the fulcrum, when, as he wrote to me a few days ago, the rush of touching each other wore off, and we tumbled down into sad realities.

One of those realities being the knowledge that we were never going to last. Were never meant to.

We continued on, enjoying each other's company, seeing interesting things, but there was a unmistakable undercurrent of melancholy. Neither one said anything about it, though as has always been the case between us, we were thinking the same thing.

For my part, I was willing to coast on the surface. I didn't think a heavy conversation about what I was feeling and sensing would make anything better; I thought it would only ruin the time we had left together. We made plans to talk about the big stuff when we got home.

I won't go into the details of why we don't work. Those aren't really important. Though I will say it's not just the obvious 3000 miles. I will also say that as you get older, you realize that love does not conquer all, and never was meant to.

We've decided to not break up, not exactly, but to go on indefinite hiatus.

We'll shift to being friends, which is what we were drifting towards anyway, and maybe, sometime, if it works out, we'll take another trip together. Not to shut the door completely on the possibility of us, but to shelve it, high up.

It's been a lovely 4 months with him. I've learned an incredible amount. It's the first time I've been with someone I felt could take care of me if I needed it, where the hotza wasn't compromised by feeling safe and cared for. He is a kind and thoughtful person, honest with himself and with others, straightforward in communication, able to make himself vulnerable, able to ask for what he needs and accept what I have to give. He is a rare creature, in many ways.

And he always thinks I describe him with hyperbole.

I'm happy that I can clamber up to the top shelf and reassure myself that our possibility is still there, whether we take it or not.

More importantly, I feel lucky to have him in my life, as a good friend, held dear to my heart.