You Feel Like a Dream (18+)

Bonjour

For my work, I travel often. I thought about really just taking a flight to see him for a long weekend. But since we had pretty much had zero contact in at least over 12 days. I was sad about it, but every day I didn't hear from him just became another day. I was very busy with work. I had a lot to prepare for my trip to Fashion Week in Paris. I decided I needed a change of scenery and would put off Milan for Paris this year. Usually, I would do both, but I'm not so up for hobnobbing with snooty hipsters. I felt I would be distracted since if it was 30 seconds that went by that my mind didn't wander to Tom; it was a good moment. I loathe adulting most of the time, since he and I, I had to put it out of my head for however long I could. I just had to let it go. I had to hold on to the memories, wonder so many things, but one stuck out of my mind. It was will ever have an orgasm again like I did with him? Right now, at this moment, thinking about his perfectly sculpted hands on my skin, I get chills. I love a man who wears rings, and he knew how to wear jewelry. Never overdone incredibly sexy, FUCK my stomach squeezes tightly, I want to stop missing him so much. Even though I didn't leave with him, which any, according to him, other women would have leaped at giving the opportunity.

  I refuse to give in and follow Tom like a puppy; he has enough of those. Besides, it wasn't as if my phone was ringing off the hook, or on do not disturb. A few calls in a row, and he gave up that quickly. Geez, at least carry it on for a few texts or FaceTimes. Nothing, not a word did I hear from him. I have to, and I didn't want to feel this way but accept that this is what actors do. They act, although I at the moment couldn't have imagined he was acting. He was so fucking convincing, to go as far as shedding tears when we made love for the last time. I thought for sure he was hooked, he was in it for the long haul. But perhaps me shutting him out turned him off, I wouldn't blame him. I just assumed he would fight a little harder then he did. So as he went on with his life, so must I. It's 12:30 in the afternoon, and all I want to do is go back to sleep. Throwing my head back on the pillows, covering myself with my weighted blanket, hoping my anxiety would fade without me having to pop any pills. I put on some classical music, and I fell back asleep. Some point is waking up later than I had wanted. I have so much to do before I leave for Paris in 24 hours.

Laundry, folding, Ironing, packing I had given Bea the week off to spend with her family upstate. I ordered take out and opened a bottle of red. Poured myself a glass simultaneously, my iPad rang that I had new mail. I walked over, opening it's cover, sipping ever few moments from my glass. I see it is from Tom; it's a half-assed apology; he's telling me the cell service there is horrible due to the weather. His shoot was turning out to reckon with Mother Nature. I don't want to say I felt nothing; I didn't want to feel anything. There was no going back to just small talk, we are so way past that, and I honestly, at this point, don't know what to think or feel anymore. I responded with caution, not to give off to much feel. But enough that I seemed concerned he had to withstand such terrible weather, and before the internet like conditions. Mottos in my love life are 2. 1. If you love someone, you are never to busy to say I love you. 2. If you love someone and set them free if they don't return, your hearts were not meant to be. But if they return, their heart is yours forever. Neither of which I was feeling from him. Through emails and texts are always taken out of context.

I packed up as much as I could. I spent the next several hours wasting time rereading over his email and emails, waiting in the front of my mind for a response. When that should have been in the back of my mind, so I should have been concentrating on what I needed to do before I left. I would be gone for over a month. I sat next to and smoked at least three cigarettes going over now his brief and few text messages, listening to the songs we sent to each other. I never dated an actor or a method actor, so if this is how he stays with his craft. I know why I never did want to be involved with an actor, let alone a movie star, and there is a difference. His soul may never belong with me; it may be just with the people and Hollywood. I can't possibly wrap my mind around it now. It's after 3 am. I have to leave so shortly, I'm running out of time, and I will forget something. I was doing the mental checklist in my head, as my thoughts once again float off to Tom.