dual post...

- for jcatblog and the dudeblog, so maybe shorter on specific detail, but - really - all that has happened in the last three weeks has been dude-centered. So what's to say?

We were on track for time away together, after a contact-deprived fortnight for one reason or another. First off was supposed to be our standard Sunday quickie, which fell through. OK, desperate, but OK.

He came over on Monday night, held me very close and told me that he had found out on the Sunday that his wife was 13 weeks pregnant. I froze. He held me tighter, and said that he had to tell me in person. And then we went to bed and made love as never before. I told him that - as I had said way before - kids change things, and that this would mean the end of everything between him and me.

Between a visit and mail on Tues, we sort of talked a bit, and I begged for the time away together as the requiem. Rather than the celebration it was planned as. He agreed. So after a lot of holding close, we went away on Monday.

Nightmare from the start. I was half terrified, half ecstatic, and so determined not to let my emotions stuff up the last time together. I didn't need to, because his wife did. Text messages every 10 or 15 minutes together, and when I eventually looked annoyed enough he offered to turn the sound off. I said it wasn't the sounds, but the fact that I really needed to have him be with me, just me, even if for a short time. He tried, but didn't make much difference - the frequency dropped by about 5 mins or so. And as he said, if he didn't respond it would be worse. I hated her so much that night. She has everything going for her - age, beauty, lifestyle. And him, above all, him. Add having his child to that, and the fact that I would be giving up my love to send him home for good...I needed him so much, just for a while.

The next day started off ok - apart from the messages. Then, through no choice, we were out of contact with the world for a while. A landline call at lunch said wife was nauseous. By 15h30, it was many messages from the MIL to say she had cramps. He asked if I would take him to wherever he could catch a bus, I said not to be silly - it would be way faster to drive, and without him there was no reason for me to be there. So we left, raced back, hardly spoke for most of the trip. I bought a pack of smokes after two days of not smoking at all. And I cried a lot. He bit his nails. After a while we both tried to talk shit, so that we could pretend that the world wasn't disintergrating.

She lost the baby a day later, at 14 weeks. I cannot concieve of how awful that is. For her. For him. I am tormented by how much I hated her on Monday, by how we were 5 hours away because of my dream, by how him being here would not have changed what happened but that he and I will never forgive ourselves for it anyway.

We have spoken briefly since. Today he said that no matter how bad this is, he cannot allow it to become his definition forever. And that he wants to come over tomorrow to talk. Originally he was supposed to visit to say goodbye and return each other's belongings. That was hard enough to face. Now? I don't know what he will need from me, but whatever it is, I have no option. I love him completely. If he needs to talk or love or ignore it, if he needs money or a timeout, if he needs me to rip my heart out and pretend for the next few days that we are all cool with life.. whatever he wants from me, I will be there to support him.

Afterwards? I don't know. I have to keep it together for as long as he needs me, and for long enough after that to distance him from the wreckage. For the last two weeks, I haven't been able to stop myself from visualising flames and walls and dying 'accidentally'. I cannot see anything past saying farewell to him, and I am way too old and ugly to believe something like this could happen again. Doesn't matter that I didn't expect it or even see it coming - it happened, and it has changed me irrevocably. And you know what? Being with him and loving him has ripped me apart three times in six months, it has cost me a small fortune, it has made me a deceitful, lying, conniving bitch in many ways. But even now, I cannot really say that i wish it had not happened. So it will most likely kill me, but if nothing else I can honestly say that I know what love is.

And it's worth it, really.