Patience… or the lack thereof

impatient

Patience is a virtue of which I do not avail myself very often. I just don’t have the patience gene, or hormone, or whatever it is that provides it in such huge quantity to apparently every other person on the planet. For me, even instant gratification takes too fucking long. I want it now, as in yesterday.

I want him now as in yesterday.

The situation is thus: he works in the field for much of the time, and has limited time when he’s back. And if I hadn’t fallen for him from day one, under no circumstances would I have agreed to these terms, and likely this thing would not ever have happened.

But i fell for him. And he for me. Like when you’re teenagers, and you can’t think of anyone or anything else, and you can’t keep your hands off each other, not to mention all the other pink bits. The also-teenage-like early-on infatuation, and euphoria experienced after every phone call, Whatsapp, and of course the encounter.

This kind of situation, in the hands (and other pink bits) of a less-than-patient person could be a recipe for disaster.

And yet… it isn’t.

Being of an advanced age — let’s just add 30 years to teenage and move swiftly on — I have better control over my capabilities as a human being. Sometimes, at least.

In a rare moment of clarity, it occurred to me that if i continued as I had, I would be doing no favours for either of us. I needed to change the dynamic. And I did. Distraction is the name of the game. If you can succeed at distracting yourself enough, intermittent messages are pearls and diamonds in a day, rather than long-yearned-after events of the “Finally!” nature.

Just so y’all know — love, romance and hot sex continues well into the ages that many of you can’t even imagine right now. And it just gets better and better.