I didn’t do it. I came close, I won’t try to deny that, but in the end I didn’t. I’d like to say that it was completely out of respect for the Viking’s privacy and trust in our relationship, but if I’m going to be honest (and why stop now, dignity is way overrated…) it was at least partly because I didn’t want to read anything that I… didn’t want to read. And because it would be a terrible thing to do, also.
And also, in the sanity corner (i.e. the wonderful commenter corner!): so he has a significant ex, who maybe made him unhappy. Tell me something I don’t know. He’s in his 30s and he looks how he looks, (let’s just say I watch True Blood now and am like, ‘ehh, I know a really hot Swedish guy…’ 😉 ), duh he wasn’t celibate before I came along. How many times have I typed that here – but maybe I’m finally starting to get it. I guess it was just the shock of actually hearing a name, coupled with the idea that maybe she could be the key to the deal with why ABBA Girl treats me like she scraped me off her shoe (and the other two are only slightly better), that spun me out of whack momentarily. Umm, again.
I guess also, to be really honest, I haven’t really had a significant ex, and some days I worry about that more than others. I’m a little younger than the Viking, but not so young it isn’t weird not to have dated somebody more than casually until now. Not to say I was celibate either, it’s just that none of them… stuck. For a million reasons and no reason. For a while I truly wondered if I was broken in some way, if an adult, deep relationship was just something I wasn’t cut out for – for a million reasons and no reason. It’s not even as though I was constantly dumped/abandoned; I’ve done my fair share of tip toeing out with my underwear in my purse while he’s still sleeping.
Once I did that and got home to discover that in my hurry I had put another woman’s shoes on. I sometimes wonder if he had a female roommate, or those shoes had been left behind by a previous one night stand who had taken the shoes of the one before her, and we were this great big chain of hook up Cinderellas, and one day I would run into the one after me wearing my shoes, and be like, “… did it sound like a washing machine when he was kissing your ears too?” Most of the times I crept away from a peacefully snoozing dude like that I couldn’t even articulate why, which just made me think even more that I had something missing or malfunctioning in me.
And then the Viking came along. And he swept me off my feet, and said and did all the things that I had been craving and dreaming I would one day experience, and I guess a part of me is still kind of pinching myself. Maybe that’s why I keep poking holes in everything and obsessing about comments and the past and his friends; maybe a part of me is trying to slip my underwear in my purse and feel around in the dark for another woman’s shoes before he wakes up.
Not that I want to leave him or am thinking about leaving him, at all. At all, at all, at all. He got home in the middle of the night last night, and crept in beside me, and snuggled up to me, and I turned around and watched him fall asleep and he looked so peaceful and so lovely and so mine that I realized how stupid and horrible and ridiculous I am being for questioning us, even in my head, like this.
He is snoozing peacefully right now, but I’m not going anywhere.