Driving my guy to the airport

It has been a trying 1.5 weeks, which would explain why I haven't written too much these days. I have three posts to write.

I normally would write these events in chronological order, like I had explained in a past post. However, I miss my guy that I will write about last Friday first.

I got to work in the afternoon. My morning was stressful. I got a complain from a manager (I will call him RM), who is a jerk. He is old-school. He complained to my manager that I wasn't in the office when he wanted to come down and see me. He couldn't reach me by phone, either.

It's not the first incident in which RM believes that I must be in the office. My boss told me that his mindset is irrelevant. Who cares if I am not in the office? I get my work done. My manager stuck up for me. He told RM that he has never had a problem reaching me when I am working from home. I am always online. I am lucky to be working for a decent, understanding manager.

Anyway, problematic RM has made my working life more complicated by introducing a couple of changes to a process that has my workload piling up. I felt overwhelmed and told my boss that. When I got to the office, it wasn't until an hour later when I could tell my guy just what I was going through. Of course, my guy made me feel better by saying that the weekend was coming up.

My guy finally got his work visa for India. He told me that he was hopping on a plane at 20:00 Friday night. I was happy for him. He has not been on the road for three months. However, it is selfish for me to want him to be with me.

I offered to drive my guy to the airport. I hopped in my car and drove over to where he had parked his car in the lot. He put his luggage and computer bag in my car, and we drove across the street to the airport.

"I feel like my bag is lighter than it should be," he admitted.
"That's okay. It happens," I said. "If you have forgotten something, you can always purchase it, if you need to."
"True," he agreed. "Maybe I am missing my stack of Hustler magazines."
"I wouldn't know," I said, looking at his huge grin on his face.
"You'll be on Skype, right?" he asked me.
"Should I be?" I asked, teasing him.
"You better be."
"Is that a threat?" I asked.
"You know what will happened if you aren't," he said sternly.
"I don't know," I said, acting like an airhead, but I knew that I would be spanked.

My guy teased me about how I seem to have a knack for getting off the hook for speeding. He doesn't have that luck on his side.

I got him to the terminal that he needed to be at. He unloaded his stuff from my car. I got out of my car to say goodbye. We kissed. We hugged. I touched his chest tenderly with my right hand. We didn't have to say anything. But, we did.

"You take care," he told me.
"You, too," I replied. "Have a safe flight."
"You, too."
"I'm not flying," I said, with a smile on my face.
"I don't know what I am saying," he admitted, smiling back at me. "You just gave me a nice hug."
"That was nice," I confirmed.

We hugged one last time before we went our separate ways.

"Be on Skype," he whispered into my right ear.
"I'll try," I said, which we both know is my way of confirming that I will be.

My guy is away for a week. It seems like an eternity, but I am happy that he is travelling again. Luckily, we have Skype.