When Josh is sad I'm usually sad by association. I love him and I want him to be happy, and if I can't come up with something to say or show him to help his mood I feel sort of useless. I'm not sure if this is better or worse when we're so far away from one another-- certainly I want to hold him while he's sad; he does that for me when we're together and it helps.
I miss him pretty bad today. Had a nice few hours at work and got to talk about him a few times earlier and I know that's probably making me miss him more. I was able to (very nearly!) painlessly tell one of the girls that asked that we wouldn't be getting engaged until we could spend some time living together. For which I expected chocolate to fall from the sky and was then deeply depressed by the lack of.
Anyway, he's down today. I get like that, too, and I know sometimes I don't really want people to suggest ways that I feel better-- my mom really gets on my nerves when she says "If you're lonely, you should call your parents!" though I know she's trying to help. And knowing people want to help is usually what soothes me. A little while after I saw a post in that vein on Facebook last night I found some stand up on Netflix and watched that for a few hours. Laughter's the best medicine. When I was so, so scared about giving blood I called my dad and he pretty much said exactly what I asked him not to in the drawn-out "Help me!" preamble, but I knew from his tone and silliness that he wanted me to feel better, and that helped more than I can possibly tell him. I would have left without doing it if it weren't for dad.
Really, Josh and Dad are the men in my life. There are very few other men I see on a regular basis and really no other male opinions I consider. Cliff is Heather's husband, Richard is Hannah's husband, and they're valued through association and appreciated, but... I don't love them, I guess, is the point. It's probably a good thing to not love too many men. It's probably a good idea to do a certain amount of thinking only in your head, Alex.
My dad is an accountant, and I wish I'd known my Papa better because dad's got a lot of wheeler-n-dealer in him and it's been explained to me that this is something Jennelle males inherit without exception. A thing I'm nostalgic for without ever experiencing is the barter system I understand my grandfather had with some of his clients-- he'd paint a house, they'd give him groceries, that sort of thing. Dad deals with money, but I know of many a client who he's bartered work for goods with. A Franklin Mint die cast for monthly accounting services. Lawn mower repair for tax returns.
He's worked something out with a client very recently, and I think he did it with my benefit in mind. I'm about an hour away from home now and I see my parents a few times a month. But this really, really touches me. I'm sure there's something this client could have given him directly, but he asked his client for it to go to me, instead. And it's food! Out by school! So, so useful in the coming months. Days. Shoot, I should have called today and arranged it so I could have gotten dinner.
This appreciation of intent, and of the consideration that others offer me, is a pretty powerful thing, and it sticks in my memory. The first time I got to visit Josh after we were officially an item (long story short: we've been long distance since we got together), we went to lunch with his parents in Boston. Royal East; really yummy Chinese. It was a good lunch and I was happy to be with him and only a little nervous about his parents, and one of them asked if there was anything I wanted to see or do while I was up there. I threw out a few things I wanted, knowing that a few were silly and that the trip was too short to get in most of them. But I told them about my plan to see the Glass Flowers at the Harvard hiss! Museum of Natural History and that I wanted to see the Smoot Marks and a few other things.
When we got done with lunch, Josh walked us right over to the bridge so I could see the Smoot Marks. I didn't even realize what he was doing until we were there. He's written and said and done sweet things since then, but that one was so unexpected and sweet I could only babble thanks at the time; I was too impressed with him to appreciate what he'd done, if that makes sense.
I think a lot. One of the stand up shows I watched last night was Wanda Sykes' Tongue Untied, which contains a small section about how women can't stop thinking. A good chunk of my thinking is devoted to Josh, and the ways I want to make him happy. Another good chunk is remembering and thinking about the nice things the men I do not expect to be sweet do for me, and hoping I can give them pleasant memories, too.
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