In several days I leave for two weeks of nanny vacation duty to the Alps (round three of four! and possibly my last vacation with these folks! HALLELUJAH!) and the French countryside and R will leave to the States to go home and see her family.
* * *
I am not currently seeing anyone, and I really like it that way for now. I have, however, restarted Salsa lessons with E, which has been fun. Punches me some what in the lonely portion of my psyche, but reminds me thoroughly that it is better to have none than to have the wrong one.
* * *
In the rush and thunder that is my life, I started this post over a week ago, put it on pause with the intention to return to it, and then left it scorned like a lover. So here I am, at eleven p.m. on a frosty Megève night in a châlet that costs 15,000 euro a week to rent on this insanely and inanely boring round of nanny duty ready to rip my hair out.
Here on this vacation is the elder brother of my boss, older by a mere two years, and a serial monogamist at that. A serial, unfaithful, monogamist who is on the continual hunt for the next good looking woman of any age older than illegal. This morning at breakfast my two girl kiddos were asking their mother if their ton ton had met his new amoureuse yet. Let me explain: this man has a long history of meeting women on Facebook only to finally meet them in reality and have it blow up in his face. This was apparently the case with an Italienne this past fall. I wanted to spit out my orange juice and laugh. He's forty and afraid of commitment, it seems.
I don't see it as that. I see it instead as not knowing what the hell he wants. But how the hell do we ever KNOW what we want? Even when it comes down to stuff as stupid and simple as a flavor of icecream?? What part of our brains our our beings screams out ¨THAT is what I want!¨
And then there's the mystery of knowing the difference between what you want and what you need. They cruelly do not always align.
This ski station, Megève, is beautiful and seated in Savoie near Mont Blanc. The little down town area is quaint and lit up under a fluttery canopy of twinkling lights topped by a layer of Chantilly-ed snow. There are traditional horse drawn calèches in the town square near a fountain to transport you back home up the winding snowy roads after a day of skiing.
I started thinking about how much I wanted to share it with FWB. How if he had been there we would've been laughing and holding hands. Cuddling in one of those calèches, and hunting out the best and biggest fromagerie in the area to buy massive blocks of beaufort d'été.
How is it this is what my heart is telling me what I want? And is it just because I know it is something I cannot have? I miss him so much on days like these when the sun is long and drawn and all I really want is to share it with him.
I was headed back to this expensive-as-fuck châlet in a calèche next to my boss's brother and wishing instead that FWB were next to me. I know at least this is what I want. But maybe what I want is an illusive, temporal desire, a shadow that will shift and warp, infinitely subject to change.
How do you ever know what you want for sure?
I don't see it as that. I see it instead as not knowing what the hell he wants. But how the hell do we ever KNOW what we want? Even when it comes down to stuff as stupid and simple as a flavor of icecream?? What part of our brains our our beings screams out ¨THAT is what I want!¨
And then there's the mystery of knowing the difference between what you want and what you need. They cruelly do not always align.
* * *
This ski station, Megève, is beautiful and seated in Savoie near Mont Blanc. The little down town area is quaint and lit up under a fluttery canopy of twinkling lights topped by a layer of Chantilly-ed snow. There are traditional horse drawn calèches in the town square near a fountain to transport you back home up the winding snowy roads after a day of skiing.
I started thinking about how much I wanted to share it with FWB. How if he had been there we would've been laughing and holding hands. Cuddling in one of those calèches, and hunting out the best and biggest fromagerie in the area to buy massive blocks of beaufort d'été.
How is it this is what my heart is telling me what I want? And is it just because I know it is something I cannot have? I miss him so much on days like these when the sun is long and drawn and all I really want is to share it with him.
I was headed back to this expensive-as-fuck châlet in a calèche next to my boss's brother and wishing instead that FWB were next to me. I know at least this is what I want. But maybe what I want is an illusive, temporal desire, a shadow that will shift and warp, infinitely subject to change.
How do you ever know what you want for sure?
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