Am I In Love Or Delusional And, By the Way, What's the Difference?

March 26, 2007 

I love the way he plays my music over and over again…the way he knows the words and sings along…. I love how he says, “Sing to me, baby” and how he wants everyone else to hear me sing….  I love how he tells all those old-timers, who think I’m just some tiny little white girl “Oh, now, she knows music” and what a “good girl” I am.  I love how he gets so tickled when I do that little laugh/scream, thing.  I LOVE that he looks straight into my eyes, (when he’s talking to me and he wants me to know he’s serious…and even when his **** is inside of me.)  I love being at his house with him, even when he’s not paying attention to me…the way we communicate with each other while we move about and do stuff…how he’ll come up to me and just start groping me or dancing with me.  I love how he’ll grab my hair, in the middle of the work day, right at the nape of my neck, real hard and kiss my cheeks real soft and sweetly.  I love how sensitive and sentimental and vulnerable he can be.  I LOVE his sense of humor and all the silly little things he says and does.  I love that he can make me laugh and that he thinks I’m funny, too.  Laughing with him has been healing to my soul. I love that he has enough discipline and self-control to sit, with a rock hard **** and my head on his lap…able to feel the heat of my breath through his flannel pajama bottoms and NOT even touch me.  I love what a good host he is to his company, the way he takes care of people (or, tries to.)  I love that he will sit STRAIGHT up from falling asleep on the floor when Stevie Wonder starts singing, “Lookin back on when I was a little, nappy-headed boy….” and dance around on his butt, in his little long-john-suit….just screamin, and singin, and bouncing around, feelin real good.  I love how he calls me “his baby.”  I love that he will bring the whole two liter of diet coke into the bedroom in the morning and fill my glass up, without me even asking him to.  I love the way he wants me to be awake in the morning with him…how he’ll turn all the lights on and look at me laying in his bed.  I love it when he answers my calls early in the morning and says, through a giant smile, “Good morning, sunshine!”  I love that he lets me call him “pumpkin seed” and that he even calls me it back, sometimes.  It’s so silly and retarded and endearing.  I love that he tells me all the time how talented and exciting and smart I am…that he’ll tell everyone how special and perfect I am.  I love that he works his *** off.  It’s amazing to watch him, sometimes.  I love that he likes to be alone and knows how to take care of himself, but still knows that he needs some help.  I love how responsive he can be to me, sometimes…the way I can ask him to get up in the mornings to warm my car up for me and, days later, he’ll hop out of bed at 7 a.m. (on the dot…the time I asked him to do it) and go straight outside into the brutal cold, without even being prompted.  I love that he’s from the South and that he’s not afraid to get dirty; that he knows how to hustle and get **** done.  I love that he loves to cook…that it’s nothing for him to whip up a whole meal, without warning, and real quick.  I love how soft his skin is and how different he is than anybody I’ve ever known.  I love the way he holds me close to him at night, when I sleep with him; the way he turns to follow me when I flip my back over to him, how it so often feels like he doesn’t want me to know he’s following me.  I love how, sometimes he turns on the headboard light when we’re laying in bed talking, to look into my eyes.  I love that he notices when I wear make up or wear my hair differently; when I show up looking a little put-together or when I’m wearing a new pair of panties.  I love that he makes no apologies for who he is but that he cares enough to feel badly when someone he loves is unhappy. 

So…this is the “pro” list.  I’m trying to be positive and make myself feel better cuz that man really ***** with my head.  I felt so good, after being with him all week.  God, he has been so ******* responsive to me, I’ve almost not known how to react!  By the time the weekend was over, I was actually glad to be going home and getting away from him for a while; being in my own space; smelling my own home-smells and not having to do whatever he told me to do (I love doing it when I’m there.)  I wasn’t really looking forward to going to see his mom, with or without him but, still, it meant a lot to me that we were going to be doing that together and I was ready to go…just like a good, little girl should be.  And then he stood me up.  He has to.  He’s just like every other man.  He moves close, he pulls away.  When he comes back, he’s closer than he was before he pulled away but, without fail….when we get closer, he has to pull away.  And, I know he goes to another woman..or, to other women.  It bugs the hell out of me.  He doesn’t try to hide it.  That’s really ******* annoying, even though I respect the **** out of him for that.  But, this is how he gets under my skin.  I start questioning every ******* thing and obsessing over it.  It’s really ******* retarded.  It makes me sick, actually.  My heart hurts.  For real.

 

MysticWriter MysticWriter
36-40, F
Mar 26, 2007