De Kooning

I dreamed that I was at MoMA chasing him around the newly opened De Kooning exhibit.  That is one of his favorite painters and I knew I could find him there, in my dream.  For some reason, I kept getting caught in long lines where guards wanted to inspect everyone's bad.  This didn't make sense to me since they have a mandatory bag check anyway.  I declined to have my bag searched and ended up having to wait in a longer line.  I woke before I ever caught a glimpse of my most precious man. 

He's not mine anymore, of course.  I am holding on to someone who isn't interested.  He doesn't want a lover in me.  He doesn't want a martyr in me.  All I want is him.  I just want him to send me a text or come into my cafe.  I have this fantasy that he visits me while I have my arms full of food and I drop everything and run over to throw my arms around his knees while I weep for joy at his feet.  It's been six days since we spoke on the phone.  I guess if the maxim is true, about loving something and letting it go, then he was never mine to begin with.  I miss him so much.

Last night was the night we usually got together to watch his cooking shows.  He loves the food network and cartoons, with some Judge Judy thrown in occasionally.  He also loves nature programs, but mostly watches those on DVD.  Sunday we'd watch Chopped.  I'd rub his feet and cook him dinner.  He'd do his online work and then we'd cuddle.  I miss burying my face in his hairy chest.

Today he posted photos of himself looking very sexy with the words "kill me now" written in blood-like paint on that chest.  This is upsetting to me.  I don't know if I should reach out.  I know I should not reach out, but I want to.  I love him and want him to be happy.  This is why I'm respecting his wishes.  Instead I chose to email a mutual friend.  I guess he's not so much my friend anymore.  I lost him in the divorce.  He said my man is doing fine.

He's not my man.  I know that.  I wish I didn't.  I want him back so badly it feels like my insides are being ripped apart.  It's a physical pain, this longing.  I miss him.  I just want him back.  Everyone says that's never going to happen.