Last Thursday I was suddenly informed that I could hop a train Friday evening and spend the weekend with TMI. Since I had been suffering some serious intimacy and sexual withdrawals I was very happy to spend the 30 Euros on a ticket and head into the country.
TMI is staying in an old run down boarding house with two other boys also finishing their summer internships. As one can imagine, the old house habited by two 20 something boys and one shy (and very much the third wheel) 18 year old, was a complete disaster. Old sausages hung on window clasps, socks were balled up on the kitchen counter, a loaf of bread with a collection of cutlery stabbed into it was stuffed in the freezer, an enormous murdered arachnid terrorized the bathroom floor, and a single vegetable was no where to be found in the whole house.
Despite all this I was lovingly received, lovingly cuddled, cared for and made love to with the utmost attentiveness for most of my stay; and while the boys worked I took refuge in TMI's bedroom with a book.
The second night some Dijonaise friends drove out and we had a barebeque. I ate something a little too French and mixed it with a little too much wine and spent the second half of the night puking miserably in the bathroom, at this point sort of befriending the huge dead spider at the toilet side.
Despite all of this it was predominantly pleasant and saturated with sentimentality. I don't think I've ever been loved the way I feel I am now. -Even with my relationship which lasted years. Maybe every love is different? Or maybe I'm just learning how to pick em' and starting to hit a little closer to home? One can hope.
I really love reading your blogs. And the pics are simply amazing.
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