If you know anything about me, you might have picked up on the fact that I have been (technically) single for almost five years. Damn, has it been that long? So I am accustomed to just doing my own thing. If I'm in the mood for some dirty, no-strings-attached fun, it's at my fingertips. If I'm in the mood for some strange, that's not usually hard to find either. But lately, I haven't been bothered to partake in any of that, and I know why.
There's someone on my mind. Someone I'd rather be with than my Drugstore Cowboy - you know, the one with the bedroom eyes, or my heavy metal lover - the one who blasted into my life out of nowhere around Memorial Day last summer.
Part of me is okay with this, part of me is terrified.
When I think about it, it's very similar to the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Except I'm a brunette and we're not talking about beds and porridge, we're talking about relationships.
The Drugstore Cowboy is 25 - too soft around the edges, immature, pretentious, seemingly intimidated by women, only ever calls after midnight and I was usually responsible for getting myself off. Hey honey, the same two positions have gotten quite boring.
The Heavy Metal Lover is 44 - a little too rough around the edges, with a been-there-done-that kind of attitude, not interested in relationships because he's run the gauntlet already, and while the sex was always fun and hot, he never really took the time to find out what blew my mind.
But one who is on my mind is 34 and he knows when to be soft and when to be rough, his sense of humor is a good mix of sarcastic and genuine, we share common ground on lots of things, and he takes the time to figure out what gets me off. More like makes it his mission. We compliment each other, in and out of the bedroom. He texts me in the morning with a "Have a good day!" and a kiss. We do things together. I spend the night at his house so often that I have a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and pajamas in his drawer. I've met all of his friends and his entire family. He gave me a Cuisinart food processor for Christmas. There's a jar of Splenda next to his coffeemaker for me. He constantly tells me how beautiful I am, he can't keep his hands off me, and the feeling is mutual. He's out of town this weekend and asked if he would be seeing me tomorrow night when he gets back. He's the one whose porridge is just the right temperature and the bed that is perfect for sleeping in.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment