October 19

Dear Kay,
Last week at work, I stole a wall calendar from the Postgrad office and was setting it up with all the little stickers and shit it comes with (while sitting cross legged on the floor, it was a nice kindergarten type craft moment). I marked up exams, semester dates, all that crap. And then when I was done I looked back at it and I suddenly thought to myself, I kind of know where I'm going for the next little while. And I'm ready.

Not, obviously, for stupid semester dates. I was more thinking about the next year at work, and home. Squidge and I are moving in together in December, and I can't freakin wait. I've already started buying furniture, plates, knife and fork sets, spatulas. Quite a few spatulas, actually.
And last week I enroled myself in my masters course, so I'm also going to be studying (part time, off campus, at Deaks. I'm hoping they'll give me study leave since I'm reinvesting my pay into their fine system to the tune of like, 15K).

And I emailed Squidge to tell him that I got in and had enrolled myself, and he wrote back that a 'magnifique' summer awaited me (he was in paris at the time)(what's with me and brackets tonight?)(also can't type for shit right now). Anyway, he was right but I hadn't thought of it until he pointed it out. Moving into the house, possibly Christmas at hours assuming that we can wrestle it off his mother, hanging out in our own place doing our own thing on our own furniture. Honestly, I can not wait. I'm predicting BBQs and citronella candles at dusk. Not that we own either a BBQ or a single candle but whatever, we've got two months to get it together before we move in.

And he gets back in 6 days! The cat is very excited, and so am I. I misss himmmmmmmm. I spoke to him this afternoon on the phone, he's in Oslo and it was like 2 am, and he'd just spent the night with a bunch of drunk swedish backpackers (as one does) and even though he'd had company, he still sounded a bit lonely. He's going back to London in a few days to hang out with his mates again before he comes back, and I'm sort of glad of that, because I think...now more than ever, he's feeling a bit isolated. I mean, he's in Norway which is kind of isolated anyway, in terms of the rest of the planet I mean, and it sounds like there aren't many other tourists around because it's so hellishly expensive, so he's feeling like the only outsider around. Apart from the Swedish backpackers.
I'm not worried about him, exactly, but I don't like the idea of him feeling crappy when I can't really do anything about it.

Anyway. It's Sunday night, and his flight lands 9 AM Saturday morning. So, 6 days. Sort of.

I miss you.
--K.

continued

Dear Kay,
He says he doesn't remember. I feel like I'm being really overly demanding and am ruining his holiday. I told him he can go, just not to get too ripped and marry a dude.
But he knows I'm feeling funny about it, and I guess now it's up to him what he does.

I feel like a cow. But it means something to me, even if I'm still not 100% sure what.

--K.

Friday October 10

Dear Kay,
The other day, I was chatting to Squidge about what he's going to do over the next two weeks in England. He mentioned he might travel around Europe for a bit, maybe Paris, maybe Ireland. I said, 'well cool, but don't go to Amsterdam.' And he said 'no?' and I said 'No, because I want to go there with you.'
Maybe I didn't make myself clear. He's going to Amsterdam.

It's important to me because I'm dutch. Because I wanted to explore it for myself. But also, because I wanted to share it with him. I wanted him to discover it with me, to understand that it's a part of who I am, and that t's important to me, and that I wanted to share my history with him, my heritage, my culture. My whatever.
So I asked him not to go, and he is.

I don't know why it hurts so much, but it really does. I can't imagine he would do it on purpose, maybe he just doesn't realise how important it is to me, like I said...maybe I didn't make myself clear. Maybe he didn't realise. Doesn't.
I really don't know what's bugging me so much. That I got left behind? That I asked him not to do something and he did it anyway? That he didn't listen? That he doesn't know me well enough to know that it's important to me? That I wanted to share it with him and he didn't want to take it?

And the worst part is, I said don't go to Amsterdam and he said, oh I don't really want to go there anyway. So it's not even that important to him. He could take it or fucking leave it, apparently. I'm fucking gutted and he doesn't really care either way. Fucking great. If you didn't care that much, why go? What the flying fuck is that?

And I'm so pissed at myself. Sitting aroud fucking pining for him like some fucking war-bride and he's gallivanting all over Europe, la dee fucking da, don't worry about Kate who might actually want to be here with me. Am I jealous? Is that it? Maybe part of it.
I don't know.

Why am I so hurt?

--K.

October 9

Dear Kay,
I take it back, I don't want to dream about Squidge anymore. Every night for the last three nights I have dreamt that he's coming back early. And every morning I wake up, and realise it was just a dream.

The other day, Penny walked past me at the photocopier and asked me how many more days until I saw him again. I answered her immediately. She laughed in a nervous way, waddled off again.

16 days.

I miss you (both).
--K.