He bought me a carebear toothbrush to put in his bathroom.
Surely it can’t be that unusual to spend most of your spare time dreaming of the most important day of your life. Perhaps I’m just a desperately sad example of womanhood. Lord, I hope not. I feel like this is Mr. Right not Mr. Right-for-three-weeks-before-I-do-my-usual-disappearing-act. Put me in a room with this man-the one I could love like he’s going out of style, the one who could take care of me, and I’ll turn into jelly. I love how he puts his arms around me and I stand on my tip toes to kiss him. It makes me feel like a little girl-safe from the BIG BAD world as if nothing could ever go wrong again. He even has a cat named Books. I think it’s the greatest name I’ve heard for a cat and I hate cats. A cat called Books-brilliant isn’t it? I can’t stand Fluffy, Squeaks, or Boots. [And people wonder why their cats are arrogant.]
I know I don’t have to tell you that you only ever meet someone when you least expect it, but I swear I didn’t think it was one of those nights. It was a party where no one gave a damn if you got drunk enough to throw up on the floor. He looked at me and he looked at me and he looked at me. I, Miss Tough, Strong, and Unbreakable-blushed. Then he opened his mouth and said, “Would you like a drink?” I smiled sweetly and replied, “I’d love one.” He stared into my eyes very seriously, very intently-as if I could be the woman he was searching for. As he stared my stomach lifted up and did a twist-the kind of twist that means I’m going to fall for him. Then there we were drinking Long Island Ice Tea and Sex on the Beach while rubbing our legs together under the table. As he talked, as he made me giggle-my head played Ray Charles, “I’m gonna love you, like no one loves you, come rain or come shine.” Then I gave him a wink when I though no one was looking. I wanted to look after him; I wanted us to look after each other.
I sound like a romantic novel, but that night was amazing; it was so special. He is so special. He made me feel like I was the only real woman in the world. We made love. It was beautiful; it was so intimate the way we were already relaxed with each other. It felt like the kind of making love you have after you’ve built a relationship-when you know that ins and outs of someone’s body, when you really care about them. He is an amazing lover. There was nothing awkward about that first time. Neither of us slept that night, but that first night when you’re not used to sharing a bed, to sharing your space with a body you’re unfamiliar with, you don’t care. You lie there taking in every breath, every touch, every lick, every kiss, and you lie awake the whole night with a huge smile on your face.
There’s nothing like lying in a new lover’s bed the morning after you’ve first had sex and hear them whisper, “Don’t be scared of me. I’ve had a thing for you for some time now. Don’t run from me. Please come back and see me. I won’t hurt you.” When they wake up in the morning, kiss you, cuddle with you, and want to take you out for breakfast-that’s when you know they’re a keeper. I didn’t even care when I had to get out of bed with no clothes on. I didn’t give a damn about my cellulite, my unsupported boobs, or my ass. I knew he was watching and I knew he liked what he saw. What a wonderful feeling. And at breakfast he called me dear. That made me believe wishes might just come true after all.
I know I don’t have to tell you that you only ever meet someone when you least expect it, but I swear I didn’t think it was one of those nights. It was a party where no one gave a damn if you got drunk enough to throw up on the floor. He looked at me and he looked at me and he looked at me. I, Miss Tough, Strong, and Unbreakable-blushed. Then he opened his mouth and said, “Would you like a drink?” I smiled sweetly and replied, “I’d love one.” He stared into my eyes very seriously, very intently-as if I could be the woman he was searching for. As he stared my stomach lifted up and did a twist-the kind of twist that means I’m going to fall for him. Then there we were drinking Long Island Ice Tea and Sex on the Beach while rubbing our legs together under the table. As he talked, as he made me giggle-my head played Ray Charles, “I’m gonna love you, like no one loves you, come rain or come shine.” Then I gave him a wink when I though no one was looking. I wanted to look after him; I wanted us to look after each other.
I sound like a romantic novel, but that night was amazing; it was so special. He is so special. He made me feel like I was the only real woman in the world. We made love. It was beautiful; it was so intimate the way we were already relaxed with each other. It felt like the kind of making love you have after you’ve built a relationship-when you know that ins and outs of someone’s body, when you really care about them. He is an amazing lover. There was nothing awkward about that first time. Neither of us slept that night, but that first night when you’re not used to sharing a bed, to sharing your space with a body you’re unfamiliar with, you don’t care. You lie there taking in every breath, every touch, every lick, every kiss, and you lie awake the whole night with a huge smile on your face.
There’s nothing like lying in a new lover’s bed the morning after you’ve first had sex and hear them whisper, “Don’t be scared of me. I’ve had a thing for you for some time now. Don’t run from me. Please come back and see me. I won’t hurt you.” When they wake up in the morning, kiss you, cuddle with you, and want to take you out for breakfast-that’s when you know they’re a keeper. I didn’t even care when I had to get out of bed with no clothes on. I didn’t give a damn about my cellulite, my unsupported boobs, or my ass. I knew he was watching and I knew he liked what he saw. What a wonderful feeling. And at breakfast he called me dear. That made me believe wishes might just come true after all.