Big Big Big Weekend

Loving how I wake up at 6:20am every day no matter what and can't find enough reason to get out of bed that early, so therefore hang in bed until I'm running quite late for my day, whatever it might hold for me.
Saturday was no different - I'd taken off early Friday to get my car jumped and the battery replaced, only to find that once they walked to my car and jumped it they promtly locked up shop, forgoing the chance I could sit at a laundromat and go grocery shopping in the morning and replacing it with the delight that is waiting for 2 hours for them to drop a new battery in your car. Not to be deterred from having a great, though malnourished and stinky morning, I packed my gym bag and grabbed my water bottle and headed south for what I am thinking is my last time, to use up what I can of the paid sessions with Bam Bam before my gym membership cancellation is finalized.
An hour of workout with 45 minutes of chatting later, and I basically wait for Bam Bam to be distracted before asking if he'd mind some company on his lunch break (knowing he was meant to eat half an hour before) and when he hesitated (due to distraction) I said "great, lemme change, let's go, we are both running on fumes". He looked over and said "not that place next door we went last week, I know a better place out toward my house". He got a full body nudge, I was ready to accept defeat when he wasn't waiting by the front door, was deceptively calm when he emerged in a tank top, and we had a grand time sharing stories and french fries at the diner with crappy service very near his house.
It took him a few offerings, I could hear his heart beating from a solid 5 feet away, and that I only noticed when trying to hear something beyond his hurried breathing... I was not going to assume, he would have to directly invite me upstairs. This frustrated him a bit - apparently "alright, I'm going to take a shower" to the roomie in the living room we were standing in was meant to be enough - I stood at the bottom of the stairs until my "should I follow you" was met with a forceful "yes".
Strange how I'd thought of this happening for so many months, the girlfriend moving away, giving him a few weeks to get to that level of lonely and frustrated, haivng a few test runs of being outside the gym together... none of it lent to actually picturing the act. Kinda like how I knew I was meant for better, knew that would be at a job I enjoyed in a place of my own, but the details of either weren't important enough to include.
Of all that did happen, (which wasn't all that much, neither of us will be tallying another notch on the bedpost, but he walked out of the house in that very relieved strut men get when women have performed on their knees well) I remember the inception the most vividly. He was in the hallway between the bathroom and bedroom, I walked up behind him, thinking, well, not thinking anything really, maybe that I'd be directed to the bedroom while he freshened up? He turned around and took a step toward me and I reactively took a step backward, lost eye contact to watch his body coming at me, almost fearful in a way that nearly got me uttering "no" or "what are you doing". Instead, a kiss, that kind of kiss that you only get after you've know someone a while, the fruition of all that flirting, the crux of the release only when you remember to breathe and get to enjoy that it is actually happening, the excitement that it was worth all that wondering what it would be like, the joy that I wasn't there just to bow before him, that there was at least enough desire for me as a woman that he took this first chance we were together very alone to back me against the wall and suckle my bottom lip.
I hate him for it, the way he kept me there, the way he explored me, how he let me pull him close and then stayed there, his expertise in opening the door and backing me into the room, I didn't even open my eyes and he had me on my back on the bed, his one arm nearly lifting me entirely to lay me further up on the bed so he could lay against me. Oh for want of the shades to be closed, if it had been a bit darker we might have spent the entire afternoon in there... instead, I remembered how hesitant I was for this to ever happen, how I knew I'd miss him and this would only make it worse, his hand sliding up my skirt making me suddenly self conscious in a way I haven't felt in years - proof I care what he thinks, have heard his judgements, knowing I was already a goddess of the bedroom in his mind and that it would take only the slightest infraction to ruin that. I decided he'd earned some realization of the phrase he'd associated with me for many months now, I pushed him off of me, piled the sheets and pillows for him, took his pants with me as I slid to the ground, and tortured him in the way that is inherit in a first time together. I watched his eyes roll back with this or that method, I realized his inability to speak or even breathe if I were to maneuver in a certain way, thrilled that he'd let me kiss again, and that his hands were able to show me where he prefered my mouth be.
Only slightly awkward after, he let me sit with him while he de-wrinkled his shirt, was prompt with his promise to text me later, and the conversation last night was lighthearted.
This, however, is not the reason for the Big Big Big weekend.
And not that this was in any way directly related, except in the fact that he is my trainer and I hit a goal I'd set for my gym fees to be worth their auto withdrawl.
It started with a conversation in front of a US Atlas book about 9 years ago. I was serious with my boyfriend of about a year at the time, we were deciding on a road trip we could take. As the book is in alphabetical order, we were laughing at the idea of Alabama, Arkansas, driving from California to Connecticut... he flipped to Hawaii, and after the "remember that Disney futuristic idea of how we'd drive in a tunnel to islands or our cars would be hovercrafts for the occassion?" chat he got a bit serious about the idea. I don't remember a whole lot of conversations I had with that boy I was with for 3.5 years, but I distinctly remember looking him in the face and saying "when I weigh what you weigh, we can go to Hawaii." Even at that time it had been years since I'd been close to his poundage, his slender build kept so with the self loathing of the abused and the avoidance of family, and therefore any, dinner as often as possible. We'd been fattening me up with love and ice cream for months, winter rains helping the cause, and without high school forcing activity on me, I was begining to feel it.
Saturday marks the first time since I realized I felt heavy and uttered those words to him that I've hit that weight. I'll be honest, it was an afterthought, I was changing back into street clothes and saw the scale and thought "this'll be the last time I can measure on a real doctor's office style scale, and I've been using this one for the whole year, lets see if it's all in my head or if it will finally show on this damn thing". As I moved the little one further and further to the left, I realized the bar was still pegged, I slowed the push as I saw that number approaching, and when I passed it by 1/10th to get that bar to suspend in "this is you" confirmation, I felt my gut tighten and my eyes water and the grin and gasp combined to hurt my ears a bit.

So here I sit, my body happy, my mind feverishly replaying the feeling of his hand on my head, his kiss on my lip, the conversation at lunch, the conversation in front of that atlas book... I'm a little sad all over that I know I had to move across the country and slowly shed the people and their influence from my life to get my body to shed it's protective weight, I'm more than aware that my favorite friend chose the last session to invite me home and he won't be making special efforts for a repeat - he may not even let me put in the drive time to spend any kind of time together.

Enjoying my freedom at the office to sit in memory, realizing this is my last week here isn't helping relieve my sadness, the news has gotten around and my short timer's mentality is only worsened by everyone being so very nice to me all the time.
I'm dunking Oreo's in my coffee because I don't have any food here, I think it's time to go find an egg sandwich, malnourished is no way to be on the brink of heartbreak all over one's life.