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 :(