Late in April, I landed a girl. She is senior even my husband by several years, yet physically smaller than me, let alone him. Her eyes are hazel set ablaze like fire, although she denies this for the lack of green.
As every great friendship of mine begins, ours started with a great bounty of mutual candidness. It’s the honesty we always extend to everyone, trusting by default, so when we meet others like us we can lean together and worry less. She knew from the minute she met me that she was to keep me, she said.
We had a couple of months before then as friends. Missed connections kept us from talking together much, but eventually we were fated to work together again, and that was when things took off. She stole a kiss from me one weekend and it wasn’t long before I made her mine.
Thanks to that experience, I got a huge boost of confidence from finally being grounded in the reality that I am very well-endowed. I’d also done well for her side of things, which I was also proud of. But more than anything I just enjoyed being together with someone like that heart-to-heart. Nothing quite compares to that kind of trusting vulnerability. It’s mind-melting intimacy I feel so built for.
There were a lot of unexpected things about being with her, like how much she likes to kiss. My husband started out the same way, but later adjusted to me. It’s strange how many people always try French kissing! I never understood it. Maybe it’s just because of my lips that they try.
Afterward, I became quite distressed at her physical absence, because I was seriously shook away from looking at or imagining things without her. It’s not that it felt wrong, but rather just woefully inadequate, and I wanted to quit it and just be with her all the time instead. As of this writing, it’s been almost two weeks since, which makes me quite sad. But life happens and sometimes gets in the way, and I know she still loves me. We’ll have to find good time.
My head still worries more about her than anything else though. She has lots of medical problems, and struggles to address them under the blanket of substance abuse. While I believe in her resolve to some extent as she’s quit worse things before, I have reservations about expecting more. Unfortunately, it’s not something I can exhaustively reason out yet, hence the anxiety. I hope I can just reunion and forget about it for the time being. She is fairly good at letting time take its toll against difficult circumstances. It’s a kind of perseverance I haven’t seen so much of before.
All in all, I still love her, and want to see to the best happen to her. The reason I’m so drawn to her despite the self-destruction is because I see, deep within, a gift in her much like mine. It’s a certain kind of intellect coupled with personal conviction and endless resolve, and it has been so heavily tarnished by abuse from the outside world for such a long time, much longer than I had to endure. I was quite lucky compared to her, and in that sense, dumb as it may be, I want to cherish that part of her like my own. I believe people can heal if they want to, and I don’t see why she wouldn’t want to if she can break from the merry-go-round of life responsibilities for a little while. Time will tell.
Until next time,