not as easy as it looks
I’m in strong like. I won’t say love, because even though love is like oxygen and love is a many-splendored thing, and love lifts us up where we belong and it’s all we need… I won’t admit I’m in love at this point in time. There’s a physicality to love. There’s a touch, taste, and smell to love. There’s a tangible physical connection to love, or at least, to my interpretation of love.
What’s so hard about this strong like I’m currently in is that I can’t have the physical side of it.
He’s currently, and will be for some time, on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, in jolly old England, where I’ve always dreamed of living. Does destiny have her delicate and slightly promiscuous hand in this pairing of like-minded people? I’m not sure, but I want to believe that this is something special that I am lucky enough to be caught up in.
He’s amazing to me. He’s done so much to change the way I think about myself and life in general. My whole life has turned around, in big part, to him. I take better care of myself, I’m living a healthier lifestyle, I’m looking forward to each day because I know he’ll have a part in it. He makes me happy. I also make myself happy, I don’t believe others are responsible for one’s happiness, but I know that smiles on my face are there in large part because his voice is remembered somewhere in my mind on a constant basis.
I feel like I’m floating through my life, buoyed by his laughter and the texture of his synapses. I can’t get enough of him, and I like to think he feels the same way about me. But I have never touched him. I can’t taste him, or know how soft his lips might be. I can’t smell him, before or after his nightly bath. I can’t tell you how warm his skin is when he wakes up and the sun is shining on him through his bedroom window. I can’t tell you how sweet his kisses are.
It’s starting to wear me down, this waiting. We've been talking, daily, for nearly three months now. I look around and I see people walking down the street, laughing, kissing, holding hands, and I feel so alone. I feel like no one knows what this feels like. I feel like people may think I’m crazy for putting so much stock in a man I’ve never met in person. I feel like I’m seen as desperate and unsuitable for relationships in the “real world”.
This didn’t happen because I had a profile on some dating site. I wasn’t looking for a guy, in fact, I was in a relationship at the time I “met” him. We spent ten hours straight on a remarkable Skype call and I knew that night that he was so much more special and interesting and fun and intelligent and hilarious and talented than my current boyfriend, or any man I had ever spoken to. I knew it then. I didn’t worry that we would never speak again, as often happens after conversations over the internet, because I trusted him almost immediately and when he said we would talk again, I just knew we would.
I just felt.
He made me feel something, he made me feel worth something. I was worth his time, I was worth his efforts. I had worth. He’s not a lovey-dovey Shakespeare-quoting romantic. But he still manages to make me feel special and wanted, even if he’s just describing the thing he just built in Minecraft, or the noob he pwned in Modern Warfare, or the curry he had for dinner. I’ve never known someone to ask me about my day. Every. Single. Day. He wants to know what I did and what I thought and how my day was. And he genuinely listens. It’s such a simple thing, listening, it impacts a person so much. I’ve been asked how my day was, sure, but not every single day and not from someone who will listen to me rant and rave about everything from Sims 3 to the people I work with who he doesn’t even know and might not ever know.
It’s amazing. I sit back sometimes, stunned, that someone like him actually exists and we stumbled across each other so accidentally. And we fit together so perfectly from the start, or at least, our minds do. He’s the smarter of the two of us, but I like learning from him. I like listening to him expel his knowledge about so many different things. I love that he’s been in the world ten years longer than I have because that’s ten years of experience of the world for me to glean off him, so to speak.
I like that he’s no-nonsense and speaks his mind because he’s old enough to realize that impressing people is not worth the effort. I like that he’s able to tell me what’s up even before I know what’s up. I like that he can give me perspective on situations that I would have never thought of before. I’m always being introduced to new ideas and new points of view, and I love every minute of it. I hope he learns things from me as well!
It’s just… I want so badly to be able to touch him and kiss him and nuzzle him and snuggle him and curl up next to him on the couch and hold his hand and smile at him and tickle him and *bowchickawowwow* with him and sit in his lap and feel his fingers in my hair and his arm around my waist and his hugs and his breath on my neck and his hands-
Let me digress. I love his hands. I will say that. They are perfect. Those of you who know me know of my silly obsession with hands and arms and wrists and fingers. I know, it’s weird. And his are magnificent manly specimens of dexterousness. They’re not too rough, but not sissy-smooth. He keeps his nails nice and trim, he’s got lovely muscles in his arms and that vein on his lower arm that just makes me want to giggle like a schoolgirl and draw his name all over my notebooks because I can’t stop thinking about him. Or just lick it and shiver and touch myself.
Ok, enough digressing. Where was I? Oh yes.
I WANT TO BE ABLE TO TOUCH HIM, DAMMIT. I just want to go to the airport and he’ll be standing there, in all his sexy gloriousness, and I’d blush and be nervous, but would ultimately just run up and hug him, no longer caring about how silly he might think I am for doing so. I want it so badly, I dream about it every night almost, I day dream about that moment, I’m constantly thinking about what it could be like, good or bad.
I just want him here.
So if I seem a little distant, or down about men or relationships in general… I’m just so jealous of everyone who has their lovers here with them. Don’t take it for granted! I’d give anything, anything, to just be able to playfully flick him on the arm when he makes fun of me for something silly I did. But I can’t.
I’ll just continue being brave and facing every day and getting through it. I can do this. One day, it will all be worth it. :D
What’s so hard about this strong like I’m currently in is that I can’t have the physical side of it.
He’s currently, and will be for some time, on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, in jolly old England, where I’ve always dreamed of living. Does destiny have her delicate and slightly promiscuous hand in this pairing of like-minded people? I’m not sure, but I want to believe that this is something special that I am lucky enough to be caught up in.
He’s amazing to me. He’s done so much to change the way I think about myself and life in general. My whole life has turned around, in big part, to him. I take better care of myself, I’m living a healthier lifestyle, I’m looking forward to each day because I know he’ll have a part in it. He makes me happy. I also make myself happy, I don’t believe others are responsible for one’s happiness, but I know that smiles on my face are there in large part because his voice is remembered somewhere in my mind on a constant basis.
I feel like I’m floating through my life, buoyed by his laughter and the texture of his synapses. I can’t get enough of him, and I like to think he feels the same way about me. But I have never touched him. I can’t taste him, or know how soft his lips might be. I can’t smell him, before or after his nightly bath. I can’t tell you how warm his skin is when he wakes up and the sun is shining on him through his bedroom window. I can’t tell you how sweet his kisses are.
It’s starting to wear me down, this waiting. We've been talking, daily, for nearly three months now. I look around and I see people walking down the street, laughing, kissing, holding hands, and I feel so alone. I feel like no one knows what this feels like. I feel like people may think I’m crazy for putting so much stock in a man I’ve never met in person. I feel like I’m seen as desperate and unsuitable for relationships in the “real world”.
This didn’t happen because I had a profile on some dating site. I wasn’t looking for a guy, in fact, I was in a relationship at the time I “met” him. We spent ten hours straight on a remarkable Skype call and I knew that night that he was so much more special and interesting and fun and intelligent and hilarious and talented than my current boyfriend, or any man I had ever spoken to. I knew it then. I didn’t worry that we would never speak again, as often happens after conversations over the internet, because I trusted him almost immediately and when he said we would talk again, I just knew we would.
I just felt.
He made me feel something, he made me feel worth something. I was worth his time, I was worth his efforts. I had worth. He’s not a lovey-dovey Shakespeare-quoting romantic. But he still manages to make me feel special and wanted, even if he’s just describing the thing he just built in Minecraft, or the noob he pwned in Modern Warfare, or the curry he had for dinner. I’ve never known someone to ask me about my day. Every. Single. Day. He wants to know what I did and what I thought and how my day was. And he genuinely listens. It’s such a simple thing, listening, it impacts a person so much. I’ve been asked how my day was, sure, but not every single day and not from someone who will listen to me rant and rave about everything from Sims 3 to the people I work with who he doesn’t even know and might not ever know.
It’s amazing. I sit back sometimes, stunned, that someone like him actually exists and we stumbled across each other so accidentally. And we fit together so perfectly from the start, or at least, our minds do. He’s the smarter of the two of us, but I like learning from him. I like listening to him expel his knowledge about so many different things. I love that he’s been in the world ten years longer than I have because that’s ten years of experience of the world for me to glean off him, so to speak.
I like that he’s no-nonsense and speaks his mind because he’s old enough to realize that impressing people is not worth the effort. I like that he’s able to tell me what’s up even before I know what’s up. I like that he can give me perspective on situations that I would have never thought of before. I’m always being introduced to new ideas and new points of view, and I love every minute of it. I hope he learns things from me as well!
It’s just… I want so badly to be able to touch him and kiss him and nuzzle him and snuggle him and curl up next to him on the couch and hold his hand and smile at him and tickle him and *bowchickawowwow* with him and sit in his lap and feel his fingers in my hair and his arm around my waist and his hugs and his breath on my neck and his hands-
Let me digress. I love his hands. I will say that. They are perfect. Those of you who know me know of my silly obsession with hands and arms and wrists and fingers. I know, it’s weird. And his are magnificent manly specimens of dexterousness. They’re not too rough, but not sissy-smooth. He keeps his nails nice and trim, he’s got lovely muscles in his arms and that vein on his lower arm that just makes me want to giggle like a schoolgirl and draw his name all over my notebooks because I can’t stop thinking about him. Or just lick it and shiver and touch myself.
Ok, enough digressing. Where was I? Oh yes.
I WANT TO BE ABLE TO TOUCH HIM, DAMMIT. I just want to go to the airport and he’ll be standing there, in all his sexy gloriousness, and I’d blush and be nervous, but would ultimately just run up and hug him, no longer caring about how silly he might think I am for doing so. I want it so badly, I dream about it every night almost, I day dream about that moment, I’m constantly thinking about what it could be like, good or bad.
I just want him here.
So if I seem a little distant, or down about men or relationships in general… I’m just so jealous of everyone who has their lovers here with them. Don’t take it for granted! I’d give anything, anything, to just be able to playfully flick him on the arm when he makes fun of me for something silly I did. But I can’t.
I’ll just continue being brave and facing every day and getting through it. I can do this. One day, it will all be worth it. :D