missrenie | A Second go (Reply)

Last weekends sex-capades left me all fucked up in the head.

After talking to a few level headed friends who suggested the following:

*Intimacy is a thing of perception. What you interpreted as love making may have been his standard fair. Remember hun you’re ass to elbow into some weird multi-favored shit… normal maybe starting to taste exotic to you.

*There are guys who just want to please women you know (this was stated to me very defensly). Doesn’t mean he’s in love with you just that he likes making love and until he asks you to formally be his girly then
A: just enjoy it with no emotional attachments
B: stop fucking/ making love to him

*You’re not in love you’re in stupid. I think you should come over so I can slap you. Maybe give you that some sense you’re sorely lacking.

*This guy is a stickler for rules. And he is breaking his personal rules for you. He may have real feelings for you but is freaking out about logistics. Or he doesn’t and he’s using the logistics as an excuse.

*Maybe its your body’s way of telling you to slow the hell down you dirty whore. Maybe you actually want one man and not three hundred.

*You… one guy, vanilla sex, no hair pulling or strap-ons? Who the hell are you trying to kid. You’re delirious from lack of sleep and a proper spanking. Take a nap, get thee to a dungeon and talk to me in the morning.

I decide to take him for another run just to be figure out if:
A: that I am in deep deep like with him
B: that I was delirious from lack of sleep and a proper spanking.

So last night I’m clutching the edge of the stove top and leaning dangerously close to an almost whistling teapot as he grinds against me enthusiastically from the back. It’s hard to pour tea when someone’s biting on your neck but we both really needed it. The tea I mean. Turns out that I gave him a nasty viral throat infection last Sunday that I wasn’t aware I had at the time.

We cuddle, drink our tea. And I wonder if sleeping with him again is the best course of action. Laying in his arms with my head against his chest felt too good. But then I figure that any guy who likes my herbal tea, doesn’t flinch or look at me crazy when I tell him about the coven and still thinks I’m sexy after serving him up a slice of the special hell I’ve been in since Wednesday is worth another roll in the hay.

Besides it would be like kissing after we both ate garlic… “a negating effect since I’ve already infected him”... this is his theory. I suggest giving him a massage. I actually do give him a professional massage with no hanky panky.

I inform him of his body issues. Suggest a course of action and I can barely get the lotion away before it’s all “hacha and whoopee”.

And this time I screamed louder when I came.
This time I went into with a sense humor instead of heartbreak and you know what, maybe my logic is skewed but it worked out in my favor anyway. I figured out that what I've got is something far better than a fuck buddy. I have a love buddy. Which is kinda like a fuck buddy but better.

See my love buddy cares about my day, my life and when he is going to see me again, he wants to know what I am thinking, and how he can please me. He teaches me to load and shoot winchester rifles and remembers the things that I say and sometimes peer pressures me into eating beef.
I care about my love buddies goals and pursuits, whether or not he made it home okay, I know the names of his siblings and that when he was 12 he had a blond patch of hair... just one patch admist all that brown and how a specific shade of green turns his eyes really really blue... and I make him laugh. Alot.

I really like him
and I really enjoy my time with him. We both enjoy our time with each other, moaning and laughing, touching and tickling. Holding eachother and breathing.

There was no embarrassment as he massaged a horrendous cramp out of my left thigh while kissing my right knee. And in the after glow as we cuddled under my blanket I told him about my mother and he told me about his.

I saw the pain in his eyes when he spoke of the cancer that killed her.

He knows my secrets.
He’s seen me at my worst and best
He likes me just as wild and free as I am.
He hasn’t asked me to change in any way.

His secrets are silent but on the surface.
And at he worst he is harsh on himself at his best he is passionately focused
He is controled and displined, intelligent and giving
I wouldn't want him to change in any way

His hands were warm as he touched me and I told him so.

He replied with “warm hands cold heart”
I cupped my hands around my mouth and breathed out hot air against his chest. I was smiling with childish satisfaction as looked back up at him. He was laughing, the lines around his eyes deepening and within them I saw that struggle that hesitation but he drew me closer and kissed me anyway and rubbed his nose against mine.

So I love him.

So I make love to him.

But I'm not in love with him. See I’ve learned the lesson of the tree. How some people are roots and stay forever, how some people are branches and can fall away, how some people are leaves and are for a season only. There is danger in trying to turn a leaf to root.

Intuition tells me that he is a leaf.

And that’s alright.

I accept that.

I’ll revel in this season. Because right now he’s a little island of sanity within all the insanity of this amazing and awkward adventure I call my life. If he ends up touching me like that for only a little while…If we end up touching each other like that only for a little while then so be it.

Because he has touched me

Deeply

In a positive way
that will remain with me
long after he himself is gone~~~