Bezerk

More and more this is turning into my "love" journal.. what there is of it I suppose

So Mr. man  in New Orleans came out and stayed with me for the weekend. He’d never been to a renaissance festival so it was fun introducing him to a new world.. especially from the side of a rennie, and not a patron.

We had fun.. fooled around.. stayed in bed alot.. but no.. I did not have sex with him.

This is going to make me sound so shallow..  and I suppose it is. But partly it was because, well,.. as much as I like him, the feeling just wasn’t there.

The other part ( and this is bad).. is that this poor wonderful man has been shorted in the shorts department. . No really…   I’m horrible. 

I like him. Alot.  But I don’t know that anything will come of it besides a beautiful friend and chew toy. On both ends. The shorts department I could get over, but I don’t know that I could become seriously romantically entangled with him.  I want to.. but knowing what I do of him.. I just don’t think that we will mesh that way.

And I started thinking about other things.

The only person that’s not female or related to me that has said " I love you".. has been J ( the married man). The one that ages ago we had a somewhat polyamorous relationship. I was with him with his wife’s permission, and I guess, we just never stopped loving each other.  She is perfect for him, and I never, ever could conceive of him being without her, and would never want that. Ever. His joy in her and their love is like a foundation rock for me. And a small bit of me also wishes I could be a part of it.  But I love seeing them happy, because it tells me that love is real, and has no boundaries.

Silly girl.

But it scares me, that I’ll never hear those words again.  Every time I see him, I bask in the words. Soak them in, and I’m terrified that one day it will stop.  If it did I think I would crumble.  Turn to dust in an instant. And I think that’s why every time I see him, I feel just slightly manic.  Because I wish I could hear those words, and feel that love every day. A sweet addiction it is.

I’m not sure why I felt I had to write this.. but there it is. 

I often wonder if I bring him as much joy as he does me. I doubt it.. but I can always fantasize that I do.

I’m blaming this entry on girl hormones.