Meh... in meh...

On the flip side to my last entry…

1) “If you don’t go out, you won’t meet anyone.”
The places I go, there are no singles. Everyone that I consider my speed in my circles are already taken. Or out of town.

2) If I do meet someone, I wonder what they want from me. To be another secret? I’m not confident about my body, but I’m not really ashamed of it. I’m just me. I got older, I had kids, I got depressed, I gained weight. I had still been having sex, so I’m at least desirable…or maybe they smell my desperation. Then again, the last 15 years have been saturated with Him, so I’ve never noticed.

I’m trying hard. He and I have developed our rhythm again after my meltdown. He still talks to me. He still craves me. I have this fantasy that’s been going through my head pertaining to the next time I see him. Sit him on a stool in my living room. Hug him so we are eye to eye, hold him. Kiss him. Walk behind him and sing a song softly in his ear, touching him, holding him. Planting kisses here and there. Sweet. Not overly seducing, just enough though. Maybe we go upstairs, maybe we get it in on the living room floor. Wouldn’t be the first time a floor has seen the fire we make.

He called me recently. We had some jokes going via text which led to him calling me. We had a conversation and it was a walk down his memory lane, a tale about what led him to Texas. It’s like, he keeps letting me in. I know I don’t let a lot of people in to me because I’m self proclaimed quirky and weird and not everyone gets it nor are they interested. I don’t like to be like that. I don’t want to think that, but when I say NO ONE ever asks me questions about a time in my life, I mean it. My past is a key to who I am. It’s shaped me. It doesn’t define me, but it gives you a glimpse as to how I came to be. Just like he let me in.

Oh well…

::shrugs::

Whatcha gonna do?

I shouldn’t be worried about him anyway. But I am.