Do you know that Winnie the Pooh story where he goes to get the honey from the bee hive and pretends to be a little rain cloud, floating up to the hive, painted black, strung from a balloon? That’s my boyfriend candidate: the rain cloud.
He hates it when I call him that. Probably not because of the negative, dark implication but because of the word “little”.
So the BC and I have been “missing” each other. He’s been traveling, and I’ve been dealing with a new job and kids in school. It’s busy. But the less we see of each other, the more of a rain cloud he becomes. Everything is bad. He went on about a work drama. Somebody had undermined a business relationship the BC had long been working on. My guy wanted the evil doer fired. It became a big deal, the subject of a board meeting. When I asked about the meeting, he said, “oh yeah, there was a reprimand, but that’s not the really bad thing, the really bad thing is this: my mentor is being transferred. It jeopardizes the entire corporate structure!” My little rain cloud. There is never a break in his weather. Always partly cloudy with a chance of chaos and doom.
Like I said, we’ve both been moving in individual directions. He texted me today. “I’m coming up from the abyss. Look forward to talking to you.” Oh crap, “abyss”? Puh-lease.
I don’t know about my little rain cloud. Maybe I should pop that balloon and let him fall to the ground see what a real problem feels like.