Yesterday I called Jeremy on the phone. I have attempted to do this several times in the past but never actually caught him at home before. This was due in part to the fact that the first time I called I actually purposely scheduled it at a time when I thought he would probably not be home, because I was too shy to actually really be up to talking to him. The second time I called I did want him to actually be home but in order to prepare myself I found it necessary to tremble in fright for 24 hours in preparation, only to find all my trembling wasted when he turned out not to be home. So by the third try I'd already used up all the trembling. This is a good arrangement.
It is weird to be in a relationship with someone for six months before arriving at the milestone of The First Phone Call. It is also weird that I would be nervous about it at such a late date. But I guess I am good at being weird.
Anyway. The phone call was pleasant enough. At the end of it he said "I love you" in this sort of oh by the way I believe this is the point during the phone call at which it is common courtesy for me to remind you just in case you have somehow weirdly forgotten since the last dozen times I said it to you kind of tone, and my head experienced a very large number of reactions simultaneously:
- Wait, the paradigm has suddenly shifted! This was feeling like such a Christine-type best-friend conversation but conversations with Christine are absolutely forbidden to include any direct statement of "I love you" phrased as such.
- Wow, I have never once ended a phone conversation with an exchange of "I love you" declarations since I was 18 years old, seven and a half years ago. I don't think I remember how to do this anymore.
- Since my past relationships in which the words "I love you" were forbidden have been so very much better than the one previous relationship where the words were spoken regularly, perhaps those words are a horrible evil curse which we should never dare to speak.
- Oh, but I'm so glad that he said it, even though it hadn't in the least occurred to me to expect it.
Anyway. I suppose that my life is all right. I have been a little angsty all day today and then writing an LJ comment to Jeremy just now made me cry, but it wasn't a terrible kind of crying, it's just that I am alive.
Since I cannot sleep properly anymore I have been spending my time in bed with John Irving's books, and if one cannot have a Jeremy in one's bed I think that John Irving is about as good a substitute as one is likely to find. I am now going back to bed with John Irving in hopes of reading myself to sleep.