So he came to my house last night. The dogs loved him, of course, those girls are round at the heel from the word go! It was nice to have him there, even with the uncomfortable reality that this is NOT my house.
It's hard to keep my hands off him. And the same goes for him, I think. I wish I could rely/believe my impressions. We ate the dinner I made and talked a bit. I showed him around the house and introduced him, at a distance, to Murgatroyd. He got me a potted African Violet (my love of blue!).
I feel I simply can't get used to holding him. I am acutely aware of the brief periods of time we have to spend together. I want to hold him and never let go. I love to hear his heart beat and his breathing. I love to inhale his scent, Lagerfeld and skin, laundry fresh shirt and the undercurrent of pheromones.
We set out the sleeping area in the living room; no hanky panky - my daughter was awake all night, and anyway, it would have been wierd. But I slept wrapped up in his arms. We talked back and forth, about body aches and desires, the future and our past. My daughter came by in the morning and exclaimed how cute we were all tangled up in each other. We are cute together.
We got dressed, ate cereal for breakfast, and he ended up sticking around for the Social Service lady visit. Parting, ah, such sweet sorrow, bittersweet pleasure and pain. I know it will be at least a year before we are in a position to share our lives in earnest; but oh, I want that now.
I miss you, Oddity, so much, and I just saw you this morning. I feel like a child and a woman with you. I feel alive and cossetted, fierce and sweet, violent and tender (now how's THAT for a reaction?) I want to prove myself to you and there's nothing to prove.
There's a song in spanish by Bebe called 'Siete Horas' (seven hours) that reminds me of the anticipation I feel when I'm going to see you.
"Seven hours, running through the city - seven hours my legs are giving out! seven hours I'm beginning to go backwards - seven hours and I'll will see you again! And I don't know how long I chase that moment thinking about each movement in slow motion and my nostalgia becomes the blood that rises and falls and floods me with desire - I don't want to do a thing, I'm trapped by nervousness I can't take any more, my patience is gone every minute is endless and still there's
seven hours (chorus) I watch the bus schedule and make sure my legs are smooth I stand I sit I can't concentrate I'm so distracted I watch the clock every minute I'm caught and feeling the pinch of time I fear I won't get there in time I check my bags, my clothes my underwear and in a little while I'll be checking you with my mouth."
It sounds better in spanish, very hectic and desperate. It is one of my favorite of the Bebe songs because it captures so well how I feel about seeing you.