In a fortnight, I’m seeing a friend — Cicero — in London. They’ve asked me to stay over for a couple of nights and offered to take me to exciting underworld kinky places!

They had the same surgery I did in Mexico — only three months ago! This feels like a big moment: the first time we’ll meet face-to-face. Will they like me? Will we get on? Will I get overwhelmed by the newness of it all — the noise and excitement of the naughty places they’ve mentioned?

But first, I need to tell my husband about the trip.

…Is it too early to call him my ex?

I’m not sure if I’m nervous because I fear I’ve misunderstood something — like, he’s moving out, but we’re not actually separating? Or maybe it’s because I’ll have to manage a reaction, and this visit will stop being about me seeing a friend and become about his anxieties again?

He says he’s overwhelmed sharing the house with me right now — but I know that having time to himself won’t necessarily feel good, either. He’s not like me in that respect. He doesn’t enjoy his own company.

So what am I afraid of? That it really is over — or that it really isn’t?

Why aren’t my feelings ever clear to me? Why does it always take weeks to figure out what I feel, and from there, what I want?

And all of this is buzzing around underneath the excitement about Cicero.

Today, he (husband/ex/hazy label person) tells me he’s feeling overwhelmed.

And I… well, I’ve got a migraine. I can barely see, let alone think. The sun, which I usually love, is too bright. Every sound is too loud.

I cannot do what I needs to be today.