My hair itches and I should wash it. I pause to think for a minute and
then I feel a tingly sensation at the back of my head, or side, or
middle, and then I stop to scratch.
In that pause I allow myself to fret, to focus on everything I can not do.
I cannot wash my hair right now because I have to wait until I take
a bath. I cannot go outside because I am in my torn pyjamas. I cannot
write about him because I am scared. And so I scratch.
My legs are itching now, as I suppose they must. The fear is crawling
underneath my skin and must be expunged. You see, I want to write
about him, scribble his name all over the walls if my heart, until all
I see is him, his beautiful smile, and his butt-chin.
When he walked into the restaurant that day I only noticed a little.
When he sat two seats away from me I noticed a little bit more, and
then I forgot again. When we were leaving in the same taxi, squished
against each other in the stuffed back seat, I started to get just a
tad nervous. I was excited.
But I didn't see him again, even though I thought about him, a little.
Oh sweet sigh, the hot Dr guy who was hiding in the 'overseas.' Oh what
a delicious waste of sweet-smiling manhood... Hmmm.
So, when my cousins called me from his phone days later I was only a
little excited. I was leaving the next day anyway, and would probably
not get a chance to do more than talk to him from a distance, maybe as he
dropped them off or something. But then he came inside, and he sat
down, and he talked. To me.
Everyone else was there, but he was looking at me. Everyone else had
opinions, but he was responding to me. And I was very aware that my
breasts were slightly exposed every time I bent over to fold something
else into the overstuffed suitcase. Score!
He invited me to watch the game with him and my nerves attacked, so I
went into whiny diva mode - I don't care about sports! But then, they
all said to go with him, and I didn't want to make a fuss; I would be
bored alone anyway.
Then we were alone.
He looked at me and smiled, and asked me what I wanted to do. We could
watch the game or a movie or just listen to music and talk. We could
go visit this beautiful place or go to that interesting place, but we
just continued talking and he put on some music and we talked some
more.
My jaw hurt when we paused for breath - from talking - and then he
took me to dinner.
Famished, we ordered, and talked between mouthfuls. He asked me to
taste out of his plate; Pad Thai, I will probably never forget. It was
delicious.
When the waiter brought two spoons with my dessert I realised we were
on a date, and that everyone knew it but me, and I was shy, and I was
glad. I periodically thought about how surreal it was that we were
there, in the same place, in such close proximity of each other, him
not getting any less attractive with his wide, beautiful smile.
We walked back to his place for the second time that day, because I
was too cold to walk to the beach. The beach! I love the beach. But thank
goodness I was cold, because I don't know what might have happened on
the beautiful beach just a short walk away, alone with him.
Inside, we talked some more, and he made me some tea, and then he put
on a movie of my choosing. As I sat, clicking through his netflix for
the right movie to jump out at me, I remember feeling his heat flowing
out to me. Deliciously close quarters. Nothing with sex in it, please.
And no romances, dear Lord no. I would not be held responsible.
Watching him laugh, and watching him watch me every time he laughed,
and watching him move toward me instinctively, and offer me a sip of
his tea, and break some chocolate for me with his hands...I wanted to
stare at him for hours on end, and trace his lips with my eyes, and
just be there.
My heart has found the beat it skipped from that same day, and is
trying to fit it in between its rhythm right now.
The phone just rang, now - today - and I am distracted; it was him.
Last night he said he missed me, and right now I know I'm falling. I
do not understand it, but I'm not afraid anymore.
My hair has stopped itching.
*also posted here in June 2011*
then I feel a tingly sensation at the back of my head, or side, or
middle, and then I stop to scratch.
In that pause I allow myself to fret, to focus on everything I can not do.
I cannot wash my hair right now because I have to wait until I take
a bath. I cannot go outside because I am in my torn pyjamas. I cannot
write about him because I am scared. And so I scratch.
My legs are itching now, as I suppose they must. The fear is crawling
underneath my skin and must be expunged. You see, I want to write
about him, scribble his name all over the walls if my heart, until all
I see is him, his beautiful smile, and his butt-chin.
When he walked into the restaurant that day I only noticed a little.
When he sat two seats away from me I noticed a little bit more, and
then I forgot again. When we were leaving in the same taxi, squished
against each other in the stuffed back seat, I started to get just a
tad nervous. I was excited.
But I didn't see him again, even though I thought about him, a little.
Oh sweet sigh, the hot Dr guy who was hiding in the 'overseas.' Oh what
a delicious waste of sweet-smiling manhood... Hmmm.
So, when my cousins called me from his phone days later I was only a
little excited. I was leaving the next day anyway, and would probably
not get a chance to do more than talk to him from a distance, maybe as he
dropped them off or something. But then he came inside, and he sat
down, and he talked. To me.
Everyone else was there, but he was looking at me. Everyone else had
opinions, but he was responding to me. And I was very aware that my
breasts were slightly exposed every time I bent over to fold something
else into the overstuffed suitcase. Score!
He invited me to watch the game with him and my nerves attacked, so I
went into whiny diva mode - I don't care about sports! But then, they
all said to go with him, and I didn't want to make a fuss; I would be
bored alone anyway.
Then we were alone.
He looked at me and smiled, and asked me what I wanted to do. We could
watch the game or a movie or just listen to music and talk. We could
go visit this beautiful place or go to that interesting place, but we
just continued talking and he put on some music and we talked some
more.
My jaw hurt when we paused for breath - from talking - and then he
took me to dinner.
Famished, we ordered, and talked between mouthfuls. He asked me to
taste out of his plate; Pad Thai, I will probably never forget. It was
delicious.
When the waiter brought two spoons with my dessert I realised we were
on a date, and that everyone knew it but me, and I was shy, and I was
glad. I periodically thought about how surreal it was that we were
there, in the same place, in such close proximity of each other, him
not getting any less attractive with his wide, beautiful smile.
We walked back to his place for the second time that day, because I
was too cold to walk to the beach. The beach! I love the beach. But thank
goodness I was cold, because I don't know what might have happened on
the beautiful beach just a short walk away, alone with him.
Inside, we talked some more, and he made me some tea, and then he put
on a movie of my choosing. As I sat, clicking through his netflix for
the right movie to jump out at me, I remember feeling his heat flowing
out to me. Deliciously close quarters. Nothing with sex in it, please.
And no romances, dear Lord no. I would not be held responsible.
Watching him laugh, and watching him watch me every time he laughed,
and watching him move toward me instinctively, and offer me a sip of
his tea, and break some chocolate for me with his hands...I wanted to
stare at him for hours on end, and trace his lips with my eyes, and
just be there.
My heart has found the beat it skipped from that same day, and is
trying to fit it in between its rhythm right now.
The phone just rang, now - today - and I am distracted; it was him.
Last night he said he missed me, and right now I know I'm falling. I
do not understand it, but I'm not afraid anymore.
My hair has stopped itching.
*also posted here in June 2011*
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