100 hours

So.  I am doing something impulsive and potentially reckless.  It’s also possibly the most romantic thing I will ever do.

I’m meeting Matthew in 100 hours.

Yup.

Every day in the last few weeks, without exception, we have texted or talked on the phone.  For hours at a time.  I haven’t had a good nights sleep in weeks…since the time difference is brutal.  I’ve managed to keep focus on work – well, not always, if I’m being honest.  I’m trying to catch up on sleep but dopey things keep getting in the way.  Like a 6 year-old asking for chapstick at 5am, or a StepDad who doesn’t remember I sleep in on the Saturday’s I don’t have the 6 year-old.

I am completely captivated.  Despite the brutal dark circles, I’m glowing.  And giddy.  I haven’t been this happy and excited about someone in, well, a long time.  He feels the same, which is the most awesome part of all.  The biggest problem we have is distance.  Second problem is time.  We’d spoken about meeting, and it seemed we wouldn’t be able to make it work until the end of the summer.  Which would just be torture.   I was willing to fly to him which meant not just a few days away from work.

We talked about the fact that until we meet, we shouldn’t change anything each of us are doing (or who we are doing) or what we are writing about.  Because until we meet face-to-face, who knows whether all of the other chemistry will translate.  So, we were destined to just have mind-blowing phone sex and sexting and to send naughty pictures to one another.  I have been trying to figure out what to do about the other men in my life – which is a loose term since they are really “in” my life…just on the periphery.  But never mind that…

Last week, I asked Matthew if he’d be willing to meet me halfway.  That way I could take just a couple of days off on either side of a weekend, without too much damage to my work commitments.  This conversation was via text whilst at the office.  I offered up a weekend that worked – next weekend.  Within an hour we had both booked our flights (which arrive within 45 minutes of each other) and I had booked a romantic, small-ish hotel.

I couldn’t focus for the rest of the day.

I’ve told him – and he’s concurred – it’s more frightening to think we might really hit it off in-person / physically (we’ve already established we do mentally and emotionally).  Because then – what the fuck do we do?

Since we both write and publish things online, I’m sure it will be just more than my Mom and girlfriends who hear how things go.

100 hours.

I better get back to packing.

0 thoughts on “100 hours

  1. Pingback: The lazy person’s guide to Matthew & our story | ann st vincent

Leave a Reply to The Hook Cancel reply