Yesterday was a hash-it-out day, especially in the light of the previous evening. Post-flirtation-fueled evening with Ben, I really felt compelled to sort it out in my head... all of the angst, harmful thoughts, yearning, desire. It just sat in there for awhile, creating a kind of stewball of upset.
Sure, I want Ben. Sure, I want a lot of guys. I want Ian every time I hang out with him. When Conor stands up and unfolds in that particular way that only tall guys can, I want to suck on those lips for days. I want to kiss that delicious little scar right above Ben's lip. And then it just all devolves into horniness and that old story.
But do I ever really entertain these notions? Do I ever really consider the possibility, however small it may be, of doing something that would hurt Sean?
He fixes those huge blue eyes on me at the end of the day and I can't breathe. Everything about him takes my breath away, in the most sincere and cliche of ways. He is everything, my everything. I desire and adore him so completely that I ache sometimes. I want to nibble his skin, taste the delicious-smelling spot on the back of his neck, hold him and cradle him and feel his warmth and breathing til the end of time. And after tossing away relationships and treating them as carelessly as I would old laundry for years and years, why, oh why would I ever consider sabotaging the greatest piece of my life, the best thing I've known in all of my short, heart-renching existence?
Not to pass over into melodrama or anything, but from a less poetical and more practical angle, Sean is the best part of my life. Stop. Make that, one of the best parts of my life. (Remember who we're dating here, kids). I need to keep remembering that, even when it's easy to try to forget.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment