Leaving on a Jet Plane

P's business trip this week is just a short one-nighter with him leaving this morning.  Although I miss him when he is gone, I was kinda hoping for three or four days. Or maybe even five days because, you know,  that's a good, solid number of days.  No seriously, I miss him. I do.

One of the hardest things about a relationship and marriage for me was that I had to give up a lot of my alone time and personal space. When P and I moved in together I had spent the previous five years in my own apartment in one of the coolest neighborhoods in Denver. I spent hours on end alone and got so used to that space in my head, that place I could go to find balance and calm and quiet.

Upon moving in with P several years ago, I initially felt suffocated by the lack of control I had regarding where things went and my comings and goings and my ability to tap out endless paragraphs on my old laptop while smoking cigarettes without any interruption or commentary, without someone inquiring about the location of his wallet or ski helmet. After a childhood sharing everything with my sisters, I had experienced the Utopia that comes with being the owner and controller of everything around you, and I wanted that back. Like a whiny little baby.  Mine! Mine! Mine!

I no longer smoke, so I don't need time alone to hide that nasty little habit from anyone. I have learned to write at Panera Bread or Starbucks when I require the quiet time, although I have to force myself to quit my endless gawking and people watching in order to actually put something on the page. I have also adjusted to cohabitation and sharing  fairly well, minus the occasional knock-down drag-out over the organization of the Tupperware cabinet. (who cares?!  The answer to that question is P. He cares very much.)  The fact that P travels for work is, however, a huge relationship bonus. I love, love, love him, but I need, crave, require some time away for a recharge. So as long as he is not using his business trips the way Tiger Woods or Anthony Weiner might, (it just occurred to me that BOTH of their names are penis euphemisms..seriously, I am on to something here) I am all for his traveling to exotic locales such as Milwaukee, Wisconsin and Montgomery, Alabama. I'll be happy right here in Denver, thank you very much.

So for my special day today, I am working from home, then I am going to walk the dogs and go to the gym to swim laps until I earn two glasses of wine. Then I am going to loiter in the steam room, pick up takeout sushi, come home and pour myself those glasses of wine and work on my Levi's. I am also going to read Real Simple Magazine on the patio with the dogs.

And the wine.

Hopefully I can fit it all in.

For those few hours, I will say very few words and spend very little time wondering what anyone else thinks of me and I won't even stick my foot in my mouth once. Eventually I will find the old Schmenver quiet place somewhere under all of the career and domestic goddess and marriage layers, and I will spend a little time hanging out there.

And then, I will use my long, tall body to create a giant X across our queen-sized bed, and I will sleep my ass off, snore- and cuddle-free.

Tomorrow evening when P returns, I will kiss his face and love him just a little bit more because of my chance to miss him, if only for a day. We will live happily ever after until his next work travel itinerary pops up in my inbox. And then it will be Schmenver-time once again.