Safe

I've entered a somewhat inexplicable stage of anger.

This morning as I was feeding the town of vincent their extortionate parking fee my mind was ticking over imagined conversations with M ... that went something like this:

"I'm moving out because I no longer feel safe with you" says I...

And the word safe triggered a memory of Dale.

I am lying in my narrow little bed in Budapest, probably tipsy, with the mobile clamped to my ear and tears making little tracks down my face.
He is saying "I feel safe with you" when all I want him to say is "I love you."

But I get it now. Safety is equally important. I don't know what safety meant to him then, but I'm warmly glad that he felt it with me. After all, M and I can love each other all we want if we can't live together and make a shared life based on security.

And being dependent has nothing to do with money. I was watering my garden this morning and the zucchini flowers opened overnight and the beetroot is standing a little bit taller and and and... and I thought that I have done more to make that fucking house a home than all his money has.

is it tonight yet? I really really REALLY want to get this sorted.