Sunday, 8pm

M has been away for two days now and I’m finding it hard. Not because he’s away, I can deal with away, but because I haven’t heard from him in two days, and I can feel myself turning into psycho-missing-you-bitch-text-me-you-fucker.

I texted him yesterday morning, and when I didn’t hear back I left it to sit for a while. I’ve gone through the full gamut of emotions these last two days and the weirdness has been heightened by the fact that T and I have had a lovely, loving weekend together. T and I feel closer together than ever before, but there has seemed to be this grey part of me, in the back of my mind, waiting for a time when I’m alone to jump on me and make me miss M. It’s been so long since I’ve felt that way.

M and I have been lovers for a week. T and I have been lovers for three and a half years. I love T, I am in love with T but the brand spanking newness of being with M is just that. Brand spankingly new. I don’t need to be forced to admit that M and I barely know each other. We don’t necessarily have that much in common other than the fact that last Friday night we picked each other, and since then spent a week in his bed.

Part of me has enjoyed the sensation of missing him. I’ve felt his absence after getting used to the piss taking all week. The way he just talks and talks and talks and fills up the silences until he doesn’t need to. How he talks about nothing for 45 minutes and just when you start to lose interest he’ll mention something dark and dirty about himself, to make you wake up and realise there is a hell of a lot more going on in there than you ever realised. I enjoyed the absence of him because it made me remember that I like it when he was here. That this whole adventure that T and I decided to go on together wasn’t some big mistake, and that fun times and meaningfulness and kooky sex could happen and my world wouldn’t implode. But I swiftly stopped enjoying the sensation and now my brain is doing that thing where it plans out the worst scenario and convinces me that something incredibly unlikely is going to happen. Like he will suddenly realise that I am full of shit and the things that I told him I could offer him weren’t enough and he didn’t want to be with me anymore and didn’t care enough to tell me (even by cunting text) and he’s just going to ignore me or worse laugh at me for years to come with all his soldier friends.

I know that it’s not real, these absurd worries. Even more I know that he is thinking about me and that he’s probably playing the same game as me - don’t text and keep it cool - so he doesn’t get in too deep either.

He’ll be back in three weeks or so. I guess we’ll wait and see what happens when he gets back!