Status Report - Week 3 of 9

Weight Loss: down another 1/2 pound, for a total of 4-1/2. It shows.
Exercise: umm... can't remember... but i think i went twice last week. couldn't go this weekend because of the trip to my parents.
Tears: they're not flowing as much, but last weekend they were just under the surface much of the time.
Panties: still pink. and this weekend i finally wore the cute ones again.

Speaking of tears...

An anonymous, and very kind, comment was left on my poem Penelope, which first caused my eyes to fill and then had me crying in the ladies' room at work:

One never forgets His cherished kitten !!

It didn't take long for me to realize what was going on. I read it as if it were a secret, reassuring message from the philosopher. It isn't, of course. With the help of my stats, I suspect it comes from a very loyal follower in Florida. (I am, in fact, quite curious about my loyal Florida follower, as well as about another one in South Dakota, not to mention the one appearance in the stats by someone taking advantage of internet access at the British House of Parliament. If any of you felt inclined to e-mail me privately to say hello, I'd be most gratified.)

See? I can take short breaks from my moping to amuse myself... But back to poor Penelope, crying on the toilet at the fantasy that Odysseus has managed to smuggle a message to her, with reassurances that he is ok - or if not quite ok, at least thinking of her fondly.

I read that sentence and heard the philosopher, despite the fact that we never do that Dom capitalization thing. I heard him saying:

Don't cry, kitten. I could never forget you. I don't really want to turn you loose. Please don't cry...

And at that moment I realized that this is what I need. A little reassurance that he could never forget his cherished kitten.

I CAN do this. It is already one third over. It was my idea and I can do this. But because this mutually agreed on silence came on the heels of his trying to break up with me yet again, I worry that I'm tormenting myself for nothing. I torture myself with thoughts of his being relieved to have lost the distractions of what was just one big unfortunate mistake. And when September 1st comes, rather than saying

Thank you, kitten, I needed that space, kitten, and now I'm so glad to hear your voice again...

he'll say

I was right. I can't do this. I have no energy for a relationship. Not while writing the dissertation. And maybe never. Porn sites are safer. Porn sites are less demanding. Porn sites don't make me vulnerable. Porn sites don't force me to feel...

And it will be over. Again. And I'll be in mourning. This time for real.

So I flirt with the suitors. Anything for distraction. Anything for reassurance. And I'll try to pretend that the comment really did come from him, my poor struggling grad student, my master, my owner, my lover and best friend.

Because even if it didn't, it could have. I have to believe. I can't ignore what was between us. It was more than a game. It was more than amazing friendship. I know that. And so do you. So do you. You can't lie to yourself about this. You know what we had. You know how happy we were.

I didn't have mood swings and you slept through the night.

We can do this. We can. I will force myself to believe.

Clap your hands if you believe in fairies. Please. Clap your hands...