Photos of Ben and Me

The day after I published that last post (Tentative Love-Letter to a Relationship Now Concluded), I heard from Ben via email. I had half-forgotten he had email; my defenses weren’t impenetrable after all. He said he was good with me posting photos. Getting his polite, two-sentence email sent me straight into an emotional black hole, of course, but at least that one took fewer than 24 hours to recover from.

Anyway: these are the photos that the previous post referenced.

• “Our first photo together taken from inside the Tesla I test-drove in Salt Lake”

• “The photo his cousin’s wife took of the two of us in front of Delicate Arch”

• “The photo of him hanging out with Aela on the bed at the Homewood Suites in Queen Anne”

• “The one of him leaning into me while we sat dressed all dapper in suits at the back of the party bus after his friend’s wedding in Chicago”

• “The one of him pulling me by my shirt as we touched foreheads in front of a lake in the Uintas”

• “The one of us sitting on the deck drinking coffee at the Ruston AirBnB before I headed over to the house to help divvy up my parents’ stuff”

• “The one of us making out aggressively on a ledge of the Crimson Trail above Logan Canyon followed by the one taken a moment later where he has his arm around my shoulders and is grinning intently into the camera”

• “The one from Old Snowbasin Road where Ben’s beard is trimmed handsomely short and he’s wearing a gray pullover he just bought from Target”

• “The one from Seattle at Christmas where he’s wearing a Santa cap and I’m in my plaid union suit and Aela is staring intently at the wrapped present he has in his hand hoping it’s for her”

• “The one of us bundled up in front of Multnomah Falls grateful for not having slipped and broken our necks on the iced-over walkways we took to get there”

• “The one from the Oregon Coast where Ben’s head is tilted into mine and we look happy and content and fully in love”

• “The photo of us at Carlos and Harleys with empty ramekins of salsa in front of us and Ben adjusting the tips of his moustache like a melodramatic villain”

• “The one from skiing at the top of Powder Mountain with blue skies that seem to reach forever behind us”

• “The one of us hanging onto the rail in the turquoise-tinted pool in Palm Springs on our first trip there”

• “The one of us looking out over Colorado National Monument with our sunglasses reflecting the snowy red cliffs in front of us”

• “The one of us at the arboretum where I’m wearing my bear hug t-shirt and Ben is taking the suggestion to heart”

• “The one of us standing in front of the rainbow-painted cement at the Crystal City metro stop in Arlington”

• “The one of us perspiring through our shirts and with toothpicks between our teeth while eating sweaty beach cheese at his cousin’s wedding in Key Largo”

• “The one of us with arms around each other’s backs at Utah Pride and Ben is wearing his bear flag suspenders and I’m adorned in my dearly departed aviators”

• “The one of the two of us in front of the excavated wall at Dinosaur National Monument smiling for the camera despite having only slept for an hour and a half while parked at a rest stop near Glenwood Springs the night before”

• “The last-ever photo of us kissing where we’re standing in front of Mt. Rainier on a gorgeous and clear day at the top of the Crystal Mountain gondola”

(Dear Ben, I kind of liked it when you’d palm my belly.)

Anyway. I used to be really good about posting vacation trip reports to my blog. Maybe I’m managing to turn this relationship into a vacation after all. Or maybe I only post to my blog to report on breakups now.

-b