Hello, Darling.
Nic: where are you? I know you still read LJ at work, so don't pretend you are not reading this. I am here and awake, finally, at the godawful appointed hour, and you are still not on the internet. It is only 4:45AM here, so I will hold this against you. I know you will be reading this. Do not make me look at dA for the first time in several weeks, or I will be sore. Thank you for the email, though; it made me feel much better.
etc.
In the last few days I have slept with a man twice, and this is nothing related to sex. The first night, I did not realize I was sleeping with anyone until I woke up, violently ill, and threw up all over him (charming). Then he explained, after quite a bit of cursing, that I took very ill and passed out as we were leaving a restaurant (no, I was not intoxicated in any way), and he was afraid to leave me alone. I accepted this.
The second night, he stayed because I took some weird pink Brazilian medicine in desperation, and I was quite certain I was going to die. I did not die, but I did stay up the entire night talking about things I can't even begin to recall. I remember laughing a lot, which is never a good sign. This prompted him, last evening, to head back to his own hotel room so we could both get some rest.
I have not been resting. My mind has been racing. I am a little behind with work now, but I will catch-up today as I've pretty much just worked through the night. I did go to work yesterday, but I have to reschedule it. All of this is mundane, however, and not really what I want to talk about.
There is something here. There is something to this. And I am afraid--that much is certain--but I am also excited. The real question is if I'm ready. This morning, staring at what will soon be a Brazilian sunrise, I think I finally want to be.
Oh.My.God.
What am I going to do?
etc.
In the last few days I have slept with a man twice, and this is nothing related to sex. The first night, I did not realize I was sleeping with anyone until I woke up, violently ill, and threw up all over him (charming). Then he explained, after quite a bit of cursing, that I took very ill and passed out as we were leaving a restaurant (no, I was not intoxicated in any way), and he was afraid to leave me alone. I accepted this.
The second night, he stayed because I took some weird pink Brazilian medicine in desperation, and I was quite certain I was going to die. I did not die, but I did stay up the entire night talking about things I can't even begin to recall. I remember laughing a lot, which is never a good sign. This prompted him, last evening, to head back to his own hotel room so we could both get some rest.
I have not been resting. My mind has been racing. I am a little behind with work now, but I will catch-up today as I've pretty much just worked through the night. I did go to work yesterday, but I have to reschedule it. All of this is mundane, however, and not really what I want to talk about.
There is something here. There is something to this. And I am afraid--that much is certain--but I am also excited. The real question is if I'm ready. This morning, staring at what will soon be a Brazilian sunrise, I think I finally want to be.
Oh.My.God.
What am I going to do?