Need this soon.
kiss
“somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near.” – ee cummings.
He claims he’s not a Daddy.
But sometimes he gives me that kind of pitterpatter and pulls my heart strings just so.
Oh this gives me feelings
He became Sir really naturally.
I don’t remember the first time I called him that or whose idea it was. But, he was Sir and that was that.
I’ve struggled finding a name for myself to match it. Something he can call me in the dynamic that isn’t my name.
“Sweetheart” is more for a certain kind of mood, when I’m all little and he’s being bad and mean and rough. And the name he calls me when I’m a kitty is basically limited to me being a kitty. (It’s a cute name, though. Trust.)
In the past, I’ve gone by bitch (but I never, ever will again.) And slut (also a no.) And pet (which I don’t know if I want to anymore.)
He’s called me girl. But we agree that it’s hard to start a sentence with girl without it sounding like “GURL.” He tried “little one” this morning and it made me smile but I don’t know if it’s something that’s as natural as “Sir.” And then there’s “kitten.” I don’t know. The syllables sound the best, but I don’t know.
I guess I just don’t feel like I can figure out a name that fits me as well as Sir fits him.
Sigh. Nomenclature.
Tonight, he went off to a munch and I was off on a bar crawl with my cohort.
Now is right about when I wish we could come home and fall asleep together. It’s weird, having basically lived with him for a while and now living quite far apart but still being together.
Sigh.
If only.
I just dropped him off for his obscenely early flight and I’m curled up in bed now, with the jacket he accidentally left here, and I can’t sleep.
Bear with me these next few days, okay? I’m going to be a little achey.
Especially since my drafts folder is full of stuff like this. Which even almost looks like us.
Sorry I’m a cheeseball.
In case my last post wasn’t indication enough, today was a lovely day.
“I do miss you; I think of you: I have a million things, not so much to say, as to sink into you,” – Virginia Woolf.
Sweetheart’s got a crush.