On my last night in Paris, I was all packed, finally, by close to one a.m., which left me just enough time to get a decent night's sleep and to work out at the gym near Jean-Marc's house in the morning. After working out, I stopped by the local stores to treat myself to a final French snack: salmon quiche, and a delicious tartalette rhubarbe. Then, at eleven, I was on the street outside of Jean-Marc's apartment, my bags occupying several feet of sidewalk, waiting to be picked up.

Waiting for Jean-Marc to pick me up to go to the airport

I was still feeling quite sad, so it wasn't perhaps a good idea that we sat at exactly the same table at the airport cafe that Ben and I had sat at the day he left Paris. I know it's silly to be sad, but for some reason I felt my emotions to be very close to the surface; everything I saw or heard seemed to produce an emotional reaction in me. I think it's really due to the realization that I'm finally completing a long trip which has been so important to me: a milestone in my relationship with Ben. I was sad to say goodbye to Jean-Marc as well; after all it was over four weeks ago that he first picked me up at Charles de Gaulle, and I feel we got to know each other a lot better on our trip together.

My bags were searched through and through by the security people; they even went through everything in my massive toiletries bag, which felt like a bit of an invasion. Still, I had ninety euros left in my wallet, so I treated myself to spending it rather than exchanging it: buying some last minute gifts, chocolate, and some expensive French toiletries, before boarding hurriedly.

Once we were in the air, I had to choose what to watch on the personal DVD system they give you in business class. Not too much to choose from that I was interested in. I recklessly settled on "Requiem for a Dream", knowing it would likely make me cry: I'm becoming an emotional junkie it seems. I had an extremely attentive male flight attendant. He was just devastated when he had to tell me there was no sparkling water on board. And since I was so frequently tearing up at the movie, it became a little embarassing, particularly when Jared Leto cried because of what his mother was going through. There's nothing so simultaneously touching and sexy as seeing a young, masculine man cry. It was an extremely difficult, challenging movie - very hard to watch; about the extremities of behavior people can be driven to by making bad choices.

From the sublime to the ridiculous. I started to watch some early episodes of Sex in the City. The first dealt with the issue of settling for somebody who's obviously wrong for you in order to avoid being alone. It made me realize how blessed I am to not have to settle. Even now, several months into the relationship, I still have moments when I stand back in pure amazement at what's happened to me.

Later, I watched Casablanca for the umpteenth time, which wasn't a good choice, because of all the flashbacks to the scenes of love in Paris. In the scene in Rick's cafe where the French sing the Marsaillaise to drown out the German officers' singing, I was a mess; as I was again when Rick says "we'll always have Paris."

We finally touched down in Boston around three in the afternoon, and the first thing I did was to switch on my cell phone for the first time in over a month, hoping I had a text message from Ben, which I surely did. After I'd checked in for my connecting flight (after another grueling time with airport security), I called him and we caught up. I had three hours until my trip, so I spent it in the airline members' club, catching up with my work email. Some good news, and some not so good. The good news was that nothing had gone majorly wrong with the New York project in my absence. Other good news was that I was almost certainly designated to move onto a new project, as tech-lead. The bad news was that until that new project got started, I was still on the New York project, and, in fact, they wanted me there for much of next week.

Now, I'm in a rather uncomfortable first-class, front-row seat on my flight home to San Francisco, where Brett will pick me up at the airport, and drive me to his house so that I can pick up my car. I've, frankly, stuffed myself today with a protein shake before going to the gym, then breakfast in Paris, and a croque-monsieur at Charles de Gaule; two meals on the first flight to Boston, a protein bar and a toblerone while waiting for my second flight, and another large meal (with my second ice-cream sundae of the day) on this final flight.

How to sum up this trip? One way is to compile a list of all the magical moments I can recall. If you find this boring, I don't blame you, but you'll have to indulge me: after all this journal is also for me, so that I'll never forget. So here's the list, interspersed with some photographs from the trip that I haven't yet published. I'll post the remaining unpublished photos from the trip (scans of the photos of us we bought from the cruise-ship's own photographers) as soon as I can.

• The way my heart convulsed the moment I saw Ben coming out of customs at Charles de Gaule
• Having sex on the cramped bunk bed of the rattling night train to Venice: it felt so illicit and sexy.
• Our first full day in Venice, wandering through fascinating streets without a destination, enjoying the beautiful weather and each other's company; completely at one with each other.
• When Ben cried when he opened my final birthday present to him: a simple, flat, silver pendant on a leather thong, with both our names engraved on it.
• Sailing from Venice at sunset, wrapping my arms around Ben as we saw the city receding into a red glow, feeling the sea breeze for the first time.

Ben and I in St Marks Square in Venice before Ben's birthday dinner. This was taken on Bill's camera, and came out better than the similar photograph of us on my camera, previously published.

Ben, Stefan and I in Venice

Bill, Stefan and I also in Venice, the morning of the day we were to board the cruise-ship

On the cruise ship as we're leaving Venice

Ditto

Ditto

• Feeling young and invincible as I danced with Ben on stage in our beautiful masks at the first big party, the Venice Carnivale dance.
• After the Venice Carnivale party, we walked to the darkened prow of the ship, still in our masks and costumes, and saw the nighttime stars clearly for the first time, despite the moon. If we looked long enough, it felt like we could see billions of stars.
• Hugging Ben atop the Acropolis in Athens, both sharing the sense of wonder.

During the first day at sea

At the dogtag tea-dance

Ditto

• Dancing, just wearing sarongs, to an unpremeditated tea-dance at the Coco Club at Super Paradise Beach in Mykonos
• Walking back to the ship from the late night club in Mykonos, at four in the morning, hand-in-hand, just in our jeans, feeling so close to one another.
• Standing outside on the balcony while we were at sea, in the middle of the night, naked, writing in my notebook by the light of the stars.

At the Coco Club at Super Paradise Beach on Mykonos

• Escaping our tour guide on Santorini, and finding a remote fortress wall, and taking shirtless photos of Ben in the dry heat.
• Watching the sun set over the Greek Islands from our balcony, after leaving Rhodes.
• Having sex in our cabin after the late night parties: both of us reluctant to go to sleep; often delaying losing consciousness until sunrise.
• Dancing in our sexy sailor outfits at the Greek Isles party, feeling so completely free.

Ben and I descending the long steps down to the harbor on Santorini, running the donkey gauntlet

At the Eurotrash party

• Tearing up as I saw that Ben was tearing up at the beauty of Paris, seen from the 2nd level of the Eiffel Tower.
• Wandering through Paris with Ben and Jean-Marc close to sunset, feeling there was so much to discover.
• Exploring the Louvre with Ben; enjoying his fresh sense of wonder, which fed my own.
• Our gourmet picnic underneath Sacre Couer.
• Standing at midnight close to the Eiffel Tower, my arms around Ben, as we watched the hourly flashing illuminations on the tower.
• Dancing on stage at the Queen, Saturday night, having the usual great time dancing with Ben.
• Beinig woken up on Ben's last full day in Paris by Ben, after only three hour's sleep, making great love, then heading out to enjoy our last day in Paris.
• Walking along the Seine, shirtless, hand-in-hand, listening to Our Last Summer (Abba) on a dual-headphone Ipod, both of us feeling the moment was ridiculously romantic, yet tearing up nonetheless.
• The boat trip up the Seine in perfect weather, unable to keep our hands off each other despite the stares of tourists.
• The way Ben deliberately woke me up, on the morning he left Paris, forty five minutes before the alarm went off, even though again we'd only gone to bed three hours or so earlier. He didn't want to leave without us having one last chance to make love, and it was the sweetest, most touching awakening I've ever had.
• Our final goodbye at Charles de Gaule, hugging and kissing while travelers gawked.
• Being moved to tears by the first precious email I got from Ben once I reached Berlin, and he'd arrived home.

That was the easy part. Much harder is to figure out how the trip affected us as individuals, and as a couple. There's no doubt that Ben and I got to know each other a lot better. Ben saw for the first time how complicated I am, how fragile my moods can be, and how deep are some of my insecurities. And I believe that the revelations brought us closer together, despite my fears. I realised Ben is much more outgoing than I'd thought, and also more adventurous, particularly in his taste for exotic food. I've learned how caring he can be, and how easily he's moved to tears. That he too can have occasional mood swings, but on the whole he's irrepressibly cheerful and a joy to be around, with his sweet smile and right-in-the-moment responses to my words or observations. That he's extremely affectionate and unconcerned, largely, with being that way in public.

About us as a couple I've learned that we function well together, even when thrown in each other's company day-long for three straight weeks. We're compatible in so many ways: in the way we express ourselves, in the things we enjoy doing, in our sexual lives, in our desire to care for each other. I'm never, ever bored with Ben, and even the most difficult, trying events are not a challenge to our mutual sympathy. That we're so right for each other, despite some of the issues that are my own personal demons.

I learned a lot about myself also; the depths of my insecurities have shocked and worried me, and I still fear that they could wreck havoc in our relationship left unchecked; in fact it's the only worry I have about our future together. I've also learned, more than I ever knew before, how much I can give myself to someone else, and let my guard down, when I trust them completely. I feel I've enlarged my vision of who I am: that I'm really quite a lovable person, despite what years of deeply seated self-hatred have taught me; that I'm capable of more adventure than I realised; that I'm (and I say this without trying to sound cocky - I don't need to sound cocky because anybody reading these pages will know that I've so much self doubt) a more interesting, attractive, spiritual person than I've given myself credit for.