Alone

STIPIMM: “’45” by Darren & the minorities

So, even though everyone knows by now that my last post was misleading, it was still technically accurate. Bridget has indeed left Boston for a few weeks while she serves as an assistant director at the Olney Theatre in Maryland, back in the D.C. area. She’s working under the director of BU’s theatre program, Jim Petosa, and it’s a great opportunity for her.

Unfortunately, since I’m bringing home the soy bacon and have a day job, I could not go with her. I will be traveling down there this month, which will be my first time back to the old stamping grounds, but for the time being, I’m all alone in our apartment. For the first time since 2002, I’m living all by myself.

New STIPIMM: “All By Myself,” by Eric Carmen

In some ways, it’s not too much different than when Bridget was around. During her rehearsal time, and just when she was very busy, she often wouldn’t get home from school until 11 p.m. or midnight. Thus, during much of February and April, I spent my evenings alone.

Those tended to be the times when I got the most work done; I’m notoriously bad at being able to keep my mind on work when my sweetie is in the apartment with me. Thus, having her out of the apartment is good for my work ethic. Indeed, after all the necessary running around I did for Bridget at the end of her school year (all of which I did gladly, mind you), it’s nice to be able to set my own schedule every day for a few weeks, with no immediate demands on my time save the ones I choose to put on it.

So, I don’t like not having Bridget around when I’m home, but I can deal with it. The time I really feel her absence, every single night, is when I go to sleep in an empty bed. A significant part of that is just her physical presence, which I miss terribly. I’ve tried to fill in that absence with the help of our two body pillows, one on each side, providing an almost crib-like barrier I can snuggle against (paging Dr. Freud…). But of course, piles of fluff are no real substitute for Bridget, and so, every night, I miss just feeling her close by.

But there’s more to her absence than just her physical presence. Bedtime has always been a significant part of our relationship (insert dirty joke here) in that it’s a time, no matter how busy our day has been, when we are both together, lying down, going nowhere, neither of us rushing to get someplace or get something done. It’s a time we use to talk, to commiserate, to comfort, or to discuss, until one of us informs the other “I’m fading…”. It’s especially important those days when we don’t see each other once one of us leaves in the morning (like the times Bridget is in rehearsal) – it is a guaranteed daily moment together, and we both guard it jealously.

Bedtime phone calls substitute for face-to-face conversation. But now, instead of one of us fading off to sleep, it’s usually the phrase, “My battery’s dying…” that brings our conversation to an end. I like dropping off to sleep at the sound of Bridget’s voice, or (more often, I’ll admit) her dropping off to my somnambulant voice. I don’t get to have that this month, but there is comfort in knowing that, at the end of May, I will have it back again.

It sounds silly to say after only half a week, but I do miss Bridget dearly.