The most difficult part about Rog leaving me is the lack of comfort when life gives you lemons.
Him appearing to care so much about me feeling pain.
Through this latest scuffle with my daughter’s journey, I am aching hard. Physical pain. My heart is so damn sore today.
Previously, for thirty years of my life, he would have scooped me into his arms, held me tight, stroked my hair, kissed me, etc.
I have to self soothe now. More than ever.
I miss the old him so, so much on these days. The man I truly adored. Who cherished and protected me. The comfort. The feeling of total solidarity, ‘knowing,’ feeling that I was loved and supported.
No matter what.
He has never had that. To be alone, and deal with pain. He has always had someone. If he felt he didn’t, he sought it in other women…
There is something to be said for physical comfort. Touch.
BG told me I had the softest skin the other day as he stroked my inner thighs.
And I froze. Exactly what Roger said. The softest skin. It sounded real. But maybe it’s just a line men use…
Like when he did this the other morning…(I need another belly laugh, this was actually super cute and hilarious!)
I imagine tonight that BG will be in big trouble! I will probably need physical comfort, and I know he will be pounced on when I arrive, using his body to help soothe me.
Poor bastard! He had a tough day yesterday, so he’ll also need some touch. He melts, groaning with pleasure, when I scratch his back, or massage his head.
Humans are weird.