Wish You Were Here

So Friday evening, after a long week with the boys, so much engagement and so many words, I was spent— and pleased to be draped across Favorite’s couch– with nothing needed or expected of me. Sweet Greg sent a text of his back patio & fire pit, along with the message “wish you were here” –and like a hot potato, — I tossed my phone to Favorite asking “What even am I supposed to say to that?” In under a second she offered me these words: “Looks nice”. It felt a lil assholey, but at least it was true.

The next day, while Greg was focusing intently on a new recipe, he was in the middle of counting out teaspoons of something when I asked; “Is there anything I can do?” He responded calmly – in a completely non-mean, no heat tone: “Yeh, shut the fuck up for a minute while I count these out.” And— I literally felt like dropping my pants.

Poor Sweet Greg. He knows I appreciate when he expresses a need or boundary without heat or anger. It makes me feel safe. We laughed at the insanity of me. I accept and forgive myself for not knowing how to comfortably recieve tender vulnerability and honest bids for connection. I am a work in progress. PS- Sweet Greg learned to say harsh things like STFU from me (over the course of our 5 years) and would probably not say that to any normal person who might feel more offended than charmed. Also, he may be mortified that I wrote about him speaking to me that way.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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