Tears for my Cute, Little Belly

Last night I wept over my belly, remembering the last time a man had touched it.

Ken, whom I've known for almost 30 years, was in town around Christmas. I had not seen him for almost a decade. I made lunch for us at my apartment, and later we laid down. There was such an ease to being with him, something so familiar, the kinship of two beings dropped on a strange planet at birth. The sweetest moments during that time with him were those in which he rubbed my belly, telling me how much he loved doing this. (I had completely removed my insulin pump, so not even the infusion site got in the way.) This was by far the most tender thing a man has done with me for many, many years.

In less than two weeks, a catheter and tubing will be emerging from my belly. I wept, thinking, "What man will want to rub my belly then?" Actually, even if I found a man who was interested in doing so, half my cute, little belly will be taken up by this apparatus.

Ken and I made plans for me to visit him in Tucson during my spring break. Now that I will be on dialysis, I don't know if this will be possible. Plus, I have to get up the nerve to tell him. I hadn't even gotten up the nerve to tell him about the insulin pump, much less about the catheter and tubing.

It seems a bit cruel that after nine years sans Mike--my last and truly my only boyfriend--that I should finally make such a tender connection with a man, and now it will be over after a single encounter.

I expressed these fears to Aaron, who said that every relationship has to face challenges, and that if Ken cares about me, he'll want to work through this with me. Aaron is such a sweet guy, seeing things from his vantage point, of how he would negotiate the world if he were in Ken's position.

But the truth is that Ken thinks of me as one would a sunset or a mountain range, something beautiful and amazing, but not in need of any fussing. He called the morning after I saw him in December, but I have heard nothing from him since. He probably thinks, "We made plans for her visit in March. She'll be here then."

This is such a far cry from what I want in a relationship, but still it is so much more than anything I have had in the last 10, 12 years.

Perhaps in my dreams, a man will tenderly, lovingly, stroke my belly. I just hope I can recall such a dream upon waking.

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After I wrote the above, I left my apartment and was gone all afternoon. Upon returning home, I found two messages from Ken. He had left one on my cell and one on my land line just minutes after I had posted the above.

I told him about dialysis and about the insulin pump. He said that he will always want to rub my tummy, as much of it as I will allow him to rub. This is exactly what I needed to hear!