You guys!  I can tell by the site stats that you are enjoying this almost as much as I am.  You’re killing me over here.  As IF I would do anything to harm those red Spanish clogs, they are my very favorite shoes. I call them Vera.  Not for any man!

I woke up this morning, it was a lovely, dreary, cold morning.  Where is the sun they promised?  Behind all those low lying clouds and the like I suppose but there are no clouds in my life this morning.  Not a one.  I woke up slowly. Again.  I keep meaning to try and get up but things just keep me dawdling in the fine Italian sheets and down that are my bed.  Me and the Mitty.  Who seems particularly happy these days.  She’s cooing like a dove.  Yes, that is her happiest purr, she sounds like a bird. All chirpy and warbly, loud and high-pitched.  A very happy sound. And it’s the first she’s done since we moved in here.  I found myself wondering if my energy was bouncing into her and if she is a reflection of how I feel cuz I be purring.

So I called my parents, we had a lovely talk.  I need to call our good philanthropist friend, evidently he wants to help me through this hard time.  Must get over my nerves about that, so embarrassing to have to do this.  Went to the store to get some coffee filters.  Decided I really wanted to actually see my folks and went over there for a chat which turned into a couple hours and lunch.  Went for a long walk.  Cold as hell outside and my shins were screaming as I went down hill. The up was much better.  Came home, did some stretching, some reading, decided to lay down and woke up at 5p to the sunset hues in my window.  I love my new bedroom window, it has a great view and no windows look in so I just leave the curtains open all day, run around naked, whatever, just stare out and look for birds.

blahblahblah.  Bored yet?

I’m just fucking with you. Was it delicious anticipation for you too? Ha! That was fun.

But not as fun as last night.   And as you may have noticed by now, I’m only sort of following my sponsor’s advice. There be kissing. There be private dates.  The only place I’m being true to her advice is that I’m being circumspect in physical reality public.  Simply can’t help it otherwise.  Did I tell you there is kissing?

After a very quick, simple dinner we settled in with a fire in the fireplace (I just love that I have my own fireplace here), good music, and the talking, always the talking.  The photo albums came out, mine in print and his in pixels. The talking,  the slowly moving closer, the silly touching when you’re all casual and not really meaning to touch but you can’t help but be so completely aware that you’re touching.  Cuz you want to touch a hell of a lot more but you’re being polite?  And perhaps you’re just a little shy?  Me? Shy?  Yeah, without the booze, I’m kind of a mess in this arena.  I mean who are we trying to kid here?  It’s seriously too cute and probably got to be hilarious to any fly on the wall.  Fer Christ’s sake, we not kids.

But this is different and it’s been a very long time for me since I went through something in quite this way.  I’d say, hmmmm, 1975? 76?  I think it was ’76 when I lost my virginity to my boyfriend’s best friend. Ah ha.  Got you with that one didn’t I.  You still weren’t really going for the whole bit about me being a total slut were you?  You look at me now and it’s hard to believe isn’t it? But that was the only amends I tried to make in sobriety that totally failed.  He refused to talk to me about it.  After all these years, he’s still pissed off.  And I don’t blame him one bit. And sadly for me, he was a keeper.  I realize now that he really loved me.  I was such a dope.  That one decision changed my life in huge ways that I only see now.  What a totally shitty thing to do. I was 16, he was 18.  I wonder now if that didn’t just twist him more than I thought and I’m so very sorry.  Not a thing I can do to ever change that reality of mine except to never behave that way again.  It wouldn’t have lasted though.  He turned out to be a drunk too in the end.  So yeah, really, 19 frikking 76 was probably the last time I ever just made out with a guy, a few times. The ones I slept with had sex with never got the make out sessions for days in advance. Maybe a few hours tops.

So M. is actually getting it different six ways to Sunday.  I have no idea if this is different for him though.  I did ask him.  I didn’t actually get an answer.  But you know what?  Doesn’t matter.  I know it’s different.  I wonder what he thinks of my “premonitions” and “I just know” and the like.  It’s kind of woowoo but I’ve been around longer than I sometimes like to admit and I read things and people pretty well.  I just sense this.  We create our own realities.  We both want different.  That alone is different.  How could it be any other way?

You know me and my little signs.  I try not to read things in where there is nothing to read, as my roomie says, sometimes a banana is just a banana, but once in awhile little things make me go hmmmmm.

And some things make me hum.  I’m humming.  I’ve been strummed.  And yet, not played. I honestly can’t really remember as much of our mid kissing conversations this time.  I want to and yet the fact that I can’t remember so much of it reflects the fact that I was O.C.C.U.P.I.E.D.  Oh so very occupied.  Also, some of it I do remember and I want to keep it all for myself.  Keep it safe, special, sacred.  And here is where I start to think that the time has come for me to perhaps be a bit more circumspect in virtual reality public as well.  Because things are moving into very private moments.  The details just simply can’t be more forthcoming as they have been but I can tell you a few things.

• His hair is soft, his beard is not, and I like it that way.
• We have the same color eyes. Sometimes gray, sometimes green, and sometimes brown/gold.  That kind of blows me away, just a little actually.
• He said “We are cut from the same cloth.”  I couldn’t agree more and how cool is the textile comparison huh? I doubt it was intentional but it caught me.
• Doesn’t want to lead me on.  Sweet dear man.  It’s too soon to worry or expect.  I know he’s nervous.  But this is so different from anxiety disorder nerves.  I’ve got no plans and no designs, at least nothing further in the future than the weekend. No white dresses, no invitations designed. I really think there is something very interesting and special going on here and for the first time I feel as though I’m living in faith, one day at a time, that it will take the natural course it’s supposed to take and all will be well.  I have no idea what that looks like and no desire to try and make it look like something in advance.  I don’t see how he could lead me on.  Don’t push the river just pick up your legs and float and see where it lands you. You can’t let me down if I’ve got no expectations.  THAT is different.
• He rubbed MY hand, so sweet.  Must make the lotion more visible. I enjoyed it immensely, just closed my eyes and felt.  So frikking sweet, I was truly touched.
• That hand rub turned into an hour of kissing and talking and touching and oh holy Hekate, I know your favorite thing is to make sure everything is in the right place, the proper containers as it were, and I seriously thank you. Blessings be upon you Hekate. Because I suppose it is no longer kissing.  Damn, that was just the best fun evar. And more than that, it was very nice. It was sweet and hot.  What a blend.
• That last one?  No, we did not go there.  Not yet.

We are indeed going on the bike Saturday but jeez I sure hope it’s warmer than it was today.  My ass was ice after my walk, long johns and all.  I’ve informed him that I’m not going home when we return to town, no way, we’re staying at his place.  He’s informed me he won’t let me go home anyway.  There will be flames and not a fireplace in sight.

I’m sending him the link to the blog.  Send good juju.  I just can’t do secrets.  It just doesn’t feel right to share so much and yet not this very large part of me. I want to be honest.  He has a right to know what I’m saying about him.