Another one taken of the absolutely bizarre poses my sleeping body takes when left to its own devices in a very large, comfy bed.
bed
He woke up a little bit before me and took this photo. Every time I look at it, my heart swells a little. I’m a sucker for intimacy.
(FYI: I have given him prior consent to photograph me while I’m asleep. Don’t photograph people without their knowledge or consent!!)
“I used to think of my body as an instrument, of pleasure, or a means of transportation, or an implement for the accomplishment of my will.” – Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale.
I’m not going to lie. Halloween was a whole lot of fun, but it was really hard without him.
It’s our first Halloween apart. I know it sounds minor and silly, but Halloween is kind of our holiday. Last year, he came out and saw me. The year before, it was the first time we made ourselves public within our group of friends.
Previously, we had been sort of doing the whole secret play partners on the down-low thing. But stuff was really starting to grow between us and we’d been drinking, so we started rather blatantly making out. And so everyone was kind of like well okay I guess that’s a thing that’s been happening.
He went home with me that night and I remember waking up beside him and looking over and thinking, “shit, I’m developing serious feelings for this person.”
So, it was hard to have this one without him. I really hope it’s the last one.
Sir has one of those jobs where he isn’t allowed to talk about the specific stuff he does, even with me. Which, you know, might be the sexiest thing ever.
Just dropped Sir off for that obscenely early flight he always takes out of here when he visits. I’m walking home and I can’t wait to get some sleep.
I’ll see him for Thanksgiving at his place in sixish weeks. Until then, sigh.
“We crave permission openly to become our secret selves.” – Salman Rushdie, The Moor’s Last Sigh.
When my date seemed totally unsalvageable, I made an excuse and ducked out. Within ten minutes of calling him, Sir picked me up.
We traded stories. I pffted and huffed that he had such a good time while I was stuck going out with a frumpy snoozer. He took me out for dessert and brought me home.
In bed, he tapped my collarbone and said, “this is my home base.”
“If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets." – Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore.