Where Are We?

Late Monday evening my flover and I returned from our trip to Quebec. We had a marvelous time. Wonderful. Enchanting. Relaxing. Thrilling. The perfect vacation. For four whole days I got to be just me. Not a mom, daughter, friend, breastfeeding expert or chauffeur. Just me. Friend and lover.

Several days before we left on the trip I asked him if he traveled well. This was an important question. Our relationship consists of several hours per night several times per week. I can count on one hand the number of times we have spent more the 6 hours together in the last year. My question was multifaceted. What I was really asking was:

• Do you get stressed when you happen to get lost?
• Are you open to adventure?
• Do you get cranky and peevish if plans change?
• Will I want to rip your face off if I spend 4 days with you?

He answered with a shrug and a grin, "I don't know. I haven't traveled in years and years." Not helpful.

Turns out the man is a divorced, middle aged woman's dream companion. I kid you not.

One of my concerns was the whole "How do we get there? Who's going to be the naviguesser? Do you know where we are? Should we stop and ask for directions at that gas station?" thing. Getting lost can lead to stress and tension. Anxiety and anger. Shouting and yelling. I know this from past experience. My ex did not travel well. And as a result, neither did I. When you are snarling at each other before you have even reached the romantic get-a-away hotel it does not bode well.

I should also add that I have a talent for getting lost. Point me in the right direction, draw me an explicit map, add GPS and I will still not be able to find the destination. O.K.....I am exaggerating a bit but you get the idea.

Turns out that my guy has a wonderful sense of direction. He took charge of all the various maps and even though we got lost several times, one time driving the same highway interchange not once but twice, we always got to where we were going. The twisted, winding streets of Old Quebec soon had me completely disoriented but not my flover. He always knew where we were and was able to lead me back to our bed at the end of the day. It is as if he has GPS in his head.

There are many, many more stories I want to share but they can wait for another day. I am going to try to take a shower.

If I can find the bathroom.

(He is actually much taller but had to crouch to fit in the ice box with me.)