11.19.04
It's everything I wish I didn't know
There�s a boy I know. He�s funny, and a flirt, he�s good at rugby, and his eyes linger on me, he makes excuses to touch me. He�s the type of boy I would get messed up in. Because I think he might be a mess inside. I like talking to him, I even flirt a little, and I don�t mind when he playfully taps my bum as I walk by.
What�s important about this, is that I have no desire to get involved, at all. I look at him, and see cute trouble, see hard, rushed, pushes against skin, drunk kisses, and then pretending it never happened. And then I look across the room, into those blue eyes that tell me everything I need to know, and I see so much more than that. There are the hard pushes, the grabbing hands and the forceful kisses, there�s all of that. But there are also the most tender touches I�ve ever felt. It was always amazing, physically, even when it seemed like too much trouble to be worth it. It grew into more, and it doesn�t seem to be slowing down.
He makes me supper almost every night, he said that he thinks of ways to make me happy, wants to make me feel beautiful, wants me to see myself how he sees me.
I�ve been in relationships before, and there�s always been thoughts hovering that there was something better. Someone more attractive, something more tender, someone who would appreciate me more�. there were still crushes on other boys, even when I said �I love you.� There were thoughts and sometimes actions�
I want to hold onto this. This boy who sometimes snores too loudly, who gets so cranky when he�s hungry, who hates being late, who contrasts me so much sometimes. Me who always seems to be running late, who is constantly losing shoes, keys, deodorant... Me who gets so worked up about the smallest things, who has a jealous streak that is bigger than I�ve ever let anyone know. Me.
But there are the ways we complement each other so completely. The way his hand fits perfectly over my breast, the way our bodies fold together, the way he talks me through anger and pain and even jealousy. The way he knows how I like peanut butter sandwiches, the way he loves the apple sauce and soup I make� It�s more than anything I�ve ever felt before.
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