Dog & Panther – Home

Jon’s gone.

In the two years we’ve been together, we’ve spent one night apart – when I went to Bournemouth to celebrate a hen do with my friend. I spent the majority of the night mooning over him and letting him know how much I missed him while quipping about the people on the lash. I ended up in bed, asleep, by midnight, which led to me being the “boring” one on the hen. Better that, I reckon, than being the 28 year old on the kerb of Broad Street. I have always struggled with hens. I suppose I just know when I reach the point I am celebrating my final days of being “single” I am going to have a quiet dinner at a nice restaurant and trade raunchy jokes over cocktails, and then get to bed for a fresh night’s sleep. I know I am going to be a mess of a disaster of a bridezilla. It’s going to be facials and manicures, and buff brides. I imagine Jon will probably force me to have a bottle of wine just to act like a normal, civilised human being and not the high-strung neurotic I will turn into.

I can see him shaking his head at ‘turn into’.

So, two years, two nights apart, with tonight, this very night! being the second one. There are man things I could say about it, but I want to focus on the pride I feel for him. Jon’s career has taken us on a journey. I knew when I joined him in England from Budapest I would be scaling my own career back, but there are things you do to be with someone. As someone who saw herself as fiercely independent it was a difficult transition, made even more so when he was offered the position with Skype. Tallinn was a city that seemed more like a funny word than a place and Estonia more like a brand of vodka. We’d both been before, but the idea of living here was foreign. We wanted to build a home and then — here. It isn’t easy to be an expatriate, for as glamorous as it seems. There are costs that come with it, especially for partners. My cost was giving away more of my future to be the dutiful partner. There are times when I resent this, of course, because I think where could I be if I hadn’t moved into consultancy, but that’s a dangerous line of thought. I like ambition, I like accomplishment, and I like it most of all on me.

We made the decision to come to Tallinn together. It’s the first time, I think, I made a decision for someone else, for a sum whole, not just for me. I took into account us, our life. And it was the right decision. Because I am with the person I love.

Where I have paused, he has soared and I am delighted and so, so immensely proud that he is my partner. He’s come so far with his company and achieved so much. It’s hard not to get caught up in the heady delight of what he has done, and even harder to not put my elbows out and push to the front of the queue saying I did it, too! Supporting someone is really magical in many ways. I marvel at how I feel what he has done I have done, too, and that’s because he includes me. I’m asked a bit about how I like working from home on an irregular schedule, and don’t I feel so lucky? I feel lucky that I have such a successful, kind partner who supports me. It is very acute how much I am going to miss him tonight. We had an argument last night, a ridiculous one, really, where we both get shirty with each other. Lately we have been trying to say one thing we loved about the other before bed, as a sort of way to celebrate each other and keep committed to letting the other one know how we feel. I will shamelessly admit I got this idea from some fluff-y piece on the internet, but it’s nice to hear praise from your partner. Through gritted teeth, and a bit resentful, he told me what loved about me yesterday and I responded. For him, it was my hard work. For me, it was his support.

I was excited yesterday for being able to spend my night luxuriously wrapped up in my bed with all the space I wanted and chick flicks, facial masks, and painting my toes, but now I’m more aware of that fact our bed is very big and I have no one to talk to while I eat my Vapiano. I miss him and it’s only in his working hours when he wouldn’t even be home. The night itself is going to be excruciatingly boring, and lonely and long. It doesn’t help that I am neurotic and every noise is going to be a what is that moment of near heart attack. When I was a teenager and my parents would leave me home with my siblings for overnights I’d lock myself in their room with a weapon. I seriously watched way too many horror movies as an adolescent. I laugh about it in the daylight with friends, about how ridiculous and irrational some of my fears are, but at night I stop being charmingly irreverent and start getting real. So, come home Jon and make me feel safe.

But that’s enough of that. I’ve had work, Jon, abroad, expatriate on the mind a lot lately and it’s still a big jumble needing to be sorted out. It feels nice to keep on blathering about myself. I don’t know if value has appeared yet, but it’s good to get out how I feel and keep a record, mostly so when I go senile my children can run a Notebook-esque campaign and remind me how much I loved their dad when I can’t remember anyone’s face and I think everyone is my dad.

Things I am doing today:

  • Going out for a lunch by myself of delicious pasta carbs and prawns. Vapiano, here I come.
  • Reading more of Kraken by China Mieville. I am determined to finish it before we leave and I am being horrendously lazy with getting through the book, even though I quite enjoy it.
  • Watching something atrocious and feminine and comedic with the right level of emotion. Bridget Jones again.
  • Calling my mother.
  • Working on finding a Spanish tutor in London. Fluency, I have got you in my crosshairs.

 

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September 23, 2013

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I'm a small girl.

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