The hardest part of holding on is letting go

I slept with inamorata again the other night, but we didn’t have sex; in fact we didn’t even kiss.

It’d been an alright night, we ate and drank (possibly a little too much of the former rather than the latter), but all evening she’d seemed a little distant, the thought of her husband flying back from wherever he’d been this time weighing on her mind possibly. When the time came to head to bed i wasn’t surprised when she told me she wasn’t interested in sex or cuddling as she felt bloated from our meal, so we said our goodnights and slept, alone but together.

The morning came, we shared coffee and a cigarette, then headed our separate ways.

A few months ago this lack of physical intimacy would have hurt me deeply, but I’ve grown since then. I still want her, and I think deep down she still wants me, but with her it’s hard to know. The honeymoon period may be over – we both have lives we need to lead and stuff we need to sort out – but I’m sure our paths will cross again…

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