He says it with songs

I won't see him this weekend.
He's going out of town.
And then tomorrow I'm going out of town.
And then we're both in town
but the weekend after he's away
and the next two weekends I'm away...

It sucks sometimes.

Not a very poetic statement but why be poetic?

There was one real advantage to being unemployed.
It was easier to be together.
We had a lot more options.

Which reminds me.

Since I've been so stingy with my posts, head on over to the home of the Erotiterrorist and take a look at this suggestion for a story. Or a novel. Or a series. Trailer Park of Bondage. It reminds me of what Remittance Girl said in a review of a book that was billed as a well-written version of Fifty Shades of Grey: "Had this been a novel about two realistic, imperfect, damaged souls who struggled to negotiate a sexual and emotional relationship in the wake of those experiences, it would have been a very good, and very hot, novel." A statement that inspired me to start a piece that I think has potential but I was at work so couldn't keep at it for 3-4 hours and get the first draft churned out. So it is languishing.

I refuse to talk here about Fifty Shades of Grey.
Except to say that it, too, sucks.
Big time.

I'm avoiding what I actually came here to write about.

He's going out of town.

If I weren't going to be away next weekend it wouldn't be so bad. I get an extra day to try and get things done. Like clean the house. Pay my bills. Refinance my mortgage to include the massive debt I amassed during 17 months of unemployment and 8 months without a rent-paying housemate.

Happily, I have a new housemate arriving late August.
A woman.
Someone I know from a long time ago.
Someone I like.
Someone the cats like.

Why am I avoiding the reason for the post?

Because it's so personal.
Because he laid himself bare.
Without using his own words.

I asked him to give me some songs for the weekend. He likes to do that, compile songs for me to listen to. I always read too much into the lyrics. Or maybe I don't.

This time
with some of the songs,
I don't think I did.

And no.
I won't name the songs he gave me.

He gave me the list and then said: I spoil you.
And when I was done listening, I had to agree.
It was an amazing gift.

I won't list the songs.
We deserve some privacy.
But the last one was by Johnny Mathis.
And I'll listen again
in my bed
in the dark
and it will play all night in my dreams.