But alas here I am. Therapy. No drugs. No meds. No alcohol. Just taking it straight on the chin. Meeting it head on.

I didn’t have a journal entry for Saturday 10 September. I had posted early on Friday 9 September then headed back to Houston from Oklahoma. Turns out Emily and I met for dinner last Friday. It was unplanned. I got back home nearly 6:30 pm and she did ask I text her upon arrival. The stars just lined up perfectly in the form of both of us just feeling lonely. We had a nice dinner but I left back home early. It seemed like dinner with a friend, sadly enough. We kept our distance even though we sat on the same side of the booth. We departed early.

The next evening we agreed to meet for dinner again. In a nice restaurant near the water. Emily talked and talked. So much she had to say. I noticed her “5 Love Languages” book. Interestingly, we never uttered a word about it.

I decided earlier in the evening to get a room. It’s customary. Very normal. In the past, we’d have a Saturday date and I would stay the night at a hotel. The next morning we’d meet for breakfast.

She didn’t allow sex. That was determined early on. And I had to be okay with it. No matter how difficult it was, I agreed. Emily is a stunner. Keeping my hands off her was always a challenge. She has soft welcoming green eyes yet intense when driving a point but hardened by the unexpected obstacle of her husband dying in September of 2020.

Saturday Sept 10, I learned so much about her. We began dating in May but we had been speaking for awhile before that. But like any relationship, we learn about each other through the course of time.

This is getting difficult to write so I’ll try and wrap up. That night was the closest we had ever been physically. By rule, I chose NOT to ever kiss her. It had become a source of consternation with her. She felt it was because we were not to have sex. Sort of my way to get back at her. Which of course, was simply not true. Finally at the end of our relationship, I revealed my reasoning “I’m sorry,” I began, “With you being a widow I just felt I needed to be extra careful and respect that you haven’t kissed anyone since your husband. I’m not saying it’s wrong or it’s right, it’s just the way I felt.”

We made out that night in a dark hotel room with the moon shining in like a pair of teenagers. The a/c felt so perfect. Bodies pressed, I didn’t want to let go. Only the second time I pressed my lips to hers. And yes our clothes stayed on. Not sure if a woman can fully appreciate just how difficult it is for a man to contain himself. Still, I did somehow.

The stinging irony is I waited this long to kiss her and yet it was my last.

*Dear Diary…..there is so much I want to unpack, but at this moment, it’s a bit overwhelming.

Heaven knows I live in hell. My bedroom is my cell. Makes me wonder if I ever said goodbye.