The Match met my two younger kids a few days ago. This felt both momentous (to me) and insignificant (to them), for what does it mean to meet yet another adult in their child-centric lives? They waved at him obligingly before running back to what they had been doing before. His child was also there, observing the situation coolly, engaging briefly with me on the topic of his recent trip to the beach (apparently I scored major points when I showed him a video of an aggressive crab I met last summer). It felt strange and exhilarating to be out in public with our children nearby, even if only half of mine were present. We sat at a shaded picnic table while the kids played, his leg pressed firmly against mine, a discreet nod to the display of affection we were actively stifling.
My kids began to exhibit wildly obvious signs of tiredness after we’d been there for two hours, and I conceded to the strong pull of childhood naps. The Match and I parted ways in the parking lot, but as I was buckling children into carseats, I fantasized about The Match and me, sneaking in a goodbye kiss once the kids were secured in their seats. As I rounded the back of my car, I looked up to see The Match, walking assuredly toward me. I practically skipped to him, and we met, as imagined, in a sweet embrace and kiss, our first in a week, as he had been out of town on vacation.
I’ve been lately trying to decide how much to write about him here, which perhaps explains my lack of writing anything at all. He won’t be reading it, but he has expressed more than once that he doesn’t want to feature heavily in my blog. He prefers relative invisibility to the spotlight, opting instead for the position of the observer (my polar opposite in this regard).
I think the way I’ll navigate this is by taking it one day at a time. I want to respect his privacy. I also want to maintain the integrity of my writing (ie no self-censorship). Let’s see how this goes…