Three Days

Friday he learned I take every challenge offered. The office was full and quiet, so I had him come by and spent perhaps a half-hour sitting on his lap and talking in my boss's office. Just as things were winding down he made an offhand comment about sex in an office, and I took that as an invitation to close the door and unzip my dress.

The look on his face was beautiful, and he hurried to zip me up again. So I spent the next ten minutes or so teasing him, and then the whole way to the car murmuring my intentions, once we were home. The car ride was spent grazing my teeth along his finger pads and sucking on his earlobe. Even in bed I refused to strip; rather, I took the opportunity to pin him to the bed naked and kiss every inch of him with an eye for erogenous zones.

Needless to say the sex was mindblowing, and I was rather pleased his roommate had gone out of town, because I wouldn't have liked to keep those screams to myself.

Saturday I met his sister and friends, and made an impression such that she sent to his phone shortly afterward, "Judging complete. We'll be very angry if you screw things up with her." He went out with friends to the bars, and woke me up when he got in because he wanted to talk to me before he went to sleep. There was much more, but some trading of "I love you"s happened here.

Sunday we listened to music, after a short attempt at studying. The culmination was in this song, which he says is his song for me.

I liiiiiiike him.

Pretty sure I saw Hardy in public yesterday when I was walking to meet Hot Rod. I looked good, dressed to the nines and wearing a fedora, and I was grinning like an idiot because, well, I was going to meet Hot Rod. I'd left my purse in his car, and he'd stopped by especially to bring it to me, and nothing makes me grin quite so much as a sexy man on a sunny day. Anyway, it just made me think, I was looking for a human connection back when Hardy happened, and I realize now -- maybe because I'm arse over teakettle for Hot Rod -- that I was never going to have the sort of connection I was looking for with him.

Last night the fella and I snuggled half-naked on his living room couch and watched Silkwood and drank Sprite and ate kettle corn and kissed and then I bolted to the bedroom in my underwear when the roommate came home, and then passed out on his bed. Dunno how that happened, but a guy who'll kiss me lightly then curl into bed with me because he doesn't want to wake me up, and with whom I'll laugh and joke until we're both late and still don't want to get out of bed and he'll give me three goodbye kisses when he drops me off at class, and we're supposed to grab lunch today just because...jeez, well, he's some kind of guy.

Flan

So things are going really, really well. It's assumed at this point that we'll spend the night together, though not that we'll have sex -- which is kinda lovely, if you think about it for any time at all. I've got a pretty regular sleep schedule because he does and I get morning kisses and -- yeah, it's magic. Last night, though, we were talking about things we liked, and there were all sorts of other foods - bagel sandwiches and ham sandwiches and salt and vinegar chips -- and the we were talking desserts we loved, like bear claws, and he said, "You're like flan. Sweet, and I love you, and a soft skin -- yeah, flan has skin..." and I was way too caught up on that middle bit, which apparently he said without thinking, but now "Flan" is this joke, somewhere between a tease about a misspeak and "I love you, too." I guess we'll see where it goes. I really don't think I'm ready to say those words, not at this point, but, shit, just read this exchange:

Me: Dresses?

Hot Rod: :D

Me: Pizza?

Hot Rod: :D

Me: Dancing barefoot in the dark with no-one else around except maybe me. And probably kissing.

Hot Rod: :D !

Me: Thin paintbrush doodling on skin with washable paint then kissing in the shower and watching color run everywhere.

Hot Rod: <3

Me: Kissing in the elevator in the middle of the day - then looping the moment so we never have to say goodbye.

Hot Rod: :)

Me: Pitching a tent by the lakeside and laughing at the rocks in our backs and curling up naked to keep warm.

Hot Rod: I miss you :(

Lassen

He makes me want to wash dishes, to shave my legs and make my bed and cook jasmine rice and ginger chicken because the idea made him smile.
He makes me want to wrap my arms around him, curled under the covers naked in his bed.
I like the way he rests a hand against my back when we're walking through a store or along the street together. I like how he'll wrap his fingers in mine a little unevenly and just leaves it that way because it's not the placement of fingers that's right, but just that we're  wrapped up together.

He makes it really hard to take things slow, but I'm listening to this song on repeat, so we'll see, right?

I don't want to (This is the sound of falling)

I don't want to fall in love. It's painful, and messy, and just leaves you with scars and alcoholic tendencies. But I do want:

to dance in the dark
to kiss him up against walls until his fingers crawl under my shirt, slip against my back and pull me in tighter
until we fit together so well I want to hold onto the moment to infinity
to watch Star Trek with him and make jokes about Data and
drink tea that's too hot
and talk about the amazing chai at the bagel shop
and hold hands just because
touch anytime we're close
and smile because he's there, or he's not there
but I think
(he tells me)
he's thinking of me.

Yeah, I don't much like sleeping alone. Just sayin'.

Songs

In a conversation with Pink the other day we discussed relationship songs, and it made me think of the ones that make me think of men:

Arch

Turkic

Finn

Hot Rod

Yeah, feel free to judge. It's alright. I'm sick, so I'll blame this on Nyquil if it comes down to it.

Peace

I'm trying (and we'll see if I succeed) to train him to do what he wants -- with the hope that what he wants is me. But kicking him in the butt to run out the door when he's late for work and still has to head home and change...

Neither of us are getting much sleep, me maybe less so, at least last night. Woke up at seven, made breakfast and then had some sex -- SO EXHAUSTED now sitting in class. It's funny, 'cos it's new and tenuous, but it's like we've fallen into a routine of sorts, and he really seems to like sleeping with me (even when it's just sleep!). And we've woken up together the last three nights in a row, twice at his and once at mine, and the sex isn't absurdly amazing or exactly what I want or all the time, but it's good, and kissing him good morning is so much better.

And this song:

Thinking of him

What's happening here? Besides that I'm wired on espresso? ESpresso. Besides that I like rolling over and kissing him? Or joking that I've seduced him and hearing him agree? That he says I'll be his inspiration to stop stretching his schedule...I like him.

What I Want Him to Understand

You say you're going out for a few drinks with the guys, and I know that means you'll probably drink a bit too much and stay out too late and crash at 1am. I'm okay with that. I'm not okay with you not knowing that's what it means, and suggesting that you'll call me up in a couple hours and we'll get together.

I'm okay with you having plans, and doing other things, and maybe we can do this some other time. I'm not okay with you double-booking, and not telling me you can't make it.

I'm okay with you coming over to mine with booze on your breath and exhausted and just wanting to crash out in bed with your arm around me. I'm not okay with waiting for a call you said you'd make that I'm fairly certain won't happen, or the knock on the door that's really unlikely since you'll feel bad for the late hour and just head to your own place, or you telling me you'll try to squeeze me and then not getting back to me.

I think I'm handling this thing pretty well, maybe because I'm avoiding getting too heavily invested, but I can't handle getting strung along. Get back to me, yeah?

Reasons

I write when I'm confused; I've been writing less because he makes me happy. "Smart, sexy, stable," that's what he called me. Just wanted me to stay in bed, with him. Thinks we should make this a daily thing, though he's not sure he can give me every night. I just think it's sweet that he'd offer, indicate that he'd want that. Olive, that fucking bitchcat. He's beautiful just out of the shower and asleep in the morning and UTTERLY MAGNIFICENT, even if he's terrible at goodbye kisses.