A Year of Dan & Jo: June

June started with a post-op* check up to make sure I was healing properly from my surgery and to answer any questions I might still have. My scars weren’t looking as good as the surgeon would have liked and he seemed skeptical when I told him I had not, in fact, been tanning my lady garden (“Those scars need to be kept out of the sun!” “Uh, that part of my anatomy never sees the sun, believe me”) and that I was just someone who kept angry red scars around for a really long time and then they just healed up to nearly nothing. He told me to stop getting my scars in the sun (yay for medical professionals listening to women) and then informed me that they had needed to use a “manipulator” to move my uterus during the procedure and that’s why I’d had the period from hell. All future periods should be back to normal. A little heads up beforehand would have been nice. Ho hum.

Keeping busy while I waited for Dan to arrive was quite easy as I had a few concerts, theatre visits and dinners to go to. The weather was really hot and muggy which meant it was easy to get friends out of the house to join you for a drink on one of Amsterdam’s many terraces. After four whole weeks of waiting, I really needed the distraction of social gatherings which is saying quite a lot as I am a card-carrying introvert and would normally rather stay home where it’s just me and the pets. I really wanted Dan to be here.

In June, however, all we got was 48 hours. Nearly to the minute.

He arrived on Friday evening at around 7pm and I went to pick him up at the airport. I remember I wore a cute little skirt and top with adorable, though hugely impractical, little shoes and I spent ages on my hair and makeup. I had to look just right. Once I got to the airport I bought his train ticket before I went to the arrivals terminal so we wouldn’t  have to wait in line and could walk straight through to the train (every second counts, right?). Schiphol Airport has this lovely (sarcasm) quirk where if you’ve only got hand luggage there is a good chance you will come out of a different arrivals terminal than the information board says you will. Which is why I was standing at Arrivals 2 waiting for Dan and he came out of Arrivals 1. After a quick exchange of “where are you?” texts we met in the middle and I couldn’t squeeze him tight enough. We stood there grinning at each other for a silly amount of time and I could feel my cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so much. I can’t describe how good that feeling is.

I wish I could tell you exactly what we got up to and I’m not even trying to be funny about that. My journal entry isn’t any more helpful than “Couldn’t wait to get him back home. Feels so amazing to have him here.” Which tells you exactly nothing but says everything.

We might have watched Orphan Black. Or not. Maybe we even put on a movie. I don’t think so, though. We walked the dogs together and we definitely spent a lot of time in bed and we definitely slept in. He was here and that was all that mattered.

On Saturday we drove to Ede to have dinner with my parents. This is significant because the whole visit, which includes an hour’s drive there and an hour back, took about six hours out of our 48 hour visit and it shows how cool Dan is that he agreed to it but also how much my parents like him that they asked if we were coming so they could see him again. Luckily Dan also likes my parents and it was a very lovely visit.

How happy do we look?

As soon as Dan and I sat on the couch my Dad got out the camera and started snapping pictures of us. He looked so pleased with himself. He said we looked so happy that he just had to have a picture of it. His enthusiasm was contagious and we spent the whole evening laughing and chatting. It was as though Dan had been there every Saturday dinner of the year so far. In a sense he had, as he was always in my pocket and my family regularly sent a HI DAN! message to him through me. Sometimes it was even a sound bite message, in chorus.

Saturday evening at my rents was fun but faster than I cared to think about, Sunday rolled around and, in a bit of a blind panic, we both tried to cram as much as possible into the few hours we had left.

We caught up on Orphan Black, we had a midday “nap”, we got take out from his favourite place downstairs, we had a long walk with the dogs and then, inevitably, the time to head back to the airport rolled around.

A sunny walk

My boys

Dan gathered up all his things and packed his bag, said goodbye to the animals and we headed to the train that would take us to the plane. I could tell Dan was having a really hard time this time and, in a rare role reversal, I was the one trying to be cheery and distract him. I think I did really well putting a brave face on it until the Kiss and Fly point at Departures. I didn’t think I’d be able to let go of him and then I realised he was crying onto my shoulder and then I couldn’t keep it dry anymore, either. As luck, and comedic timing, would have it, a rather large group of British guys walked by just as I lifted my head to sniffle and, in chorus, they all said “Aw, she’s crying! How romantic!” Dan just buried his head in my shoulder a bit more and kept his back to them.

I don’t know how long we stood there being everyone’s Sad Couple Saying Goodbye At The Airport but eventually we had to let go and he had to head to his gate. After the See You Soons” (lies, we wouldn’t see each other again until August) and the Take Cares and the I Had Such A Wonderful Times, I said “I love you” and he said “I love you, too”. It was the first time we’d said it out loud.

He looked utterly miserable as he headed through the gate and towards security and I followed him along for as long as possible, giving him my biggest smile and a wave as he turned the corner and out of sight.

As soon as he was through security we were texting each other again and we quickly agreed that 48 hours seemed almost cruel after the three weeks we’d had before. The long wait between visits was also very hard and it just seemed to be getting harder. He freely admitted that he was a bit of a mess and that this goodbye was hitting him harder than he expected. I felt the same way. I felt cheated and at the same time like I hadn’t fully appreciated every second of our time together.

48 hours is not a lot of time at all.

Knowing that I wouldn’t see Dan again until August, I decided to apply the method that had worked so well for the beginning of the month: cram as many social engagements as possible into the time between visits and hope the distraction works. And so it was that there were many more dinners, ballets, prom night, crafternoons, art exhibitions, a gin party with my feminist group, lunches and whatever time I couldn’t fill up with fun social things, I filled up with work.

In the meantime every day started with a “Good morning, sunshine” and ended with a “Night night, handsome” and with lots of messages in between. Knowing how difficult May had been without even a 48 hour visit, I couldn’t bear the thought of doing it all again in July. We would have to, though, because Dan’s vacation days were almost all booked up to the end of the year and my summer vacation didn’t start until the end of July. Even if we’d had the money, there simply wasn’t any time for another visit, short or otherwise.

Despite how difficult the time apart was and how hard the goodbyes were getting, we were settling into a steady and familiar rhythm. July was not going to be easy but we’d made it over the halfway mark of 2017, we’d been an official couple for nearly four months and we had some very solid plans for the summer. The little ding on my phone that is his personal notification alert still made me smile every time I heard it and I was still happier than I’d been in a long time. As challenging as the distance was, this relationship wasn’t going anywhere but up.

(… to be continued …) xJI

Also in this series:  January // February // March // April // May
* Adventures in Baby-Quitting