Petulant Flamingo

Email can be a killer: an ounce of criticism goes a long way. He sent a (work) email this morning that nearly had me in tears. I took it to heart too much.

Did it used to be like this with old-fashioned love letters? If you didn't see your love for months, did you tie yourself up in knots about every little phrase and its implied meaning?

I feel like I've reached a crisis point, a crossroads. A place where it's harder not to say something than it is to confess all.

I dream about talking to him, telling him how strong my feelings are. That we have to move forward now or back away completely. But I can't tell him, I can't bear the possibility of it having to be the end. So instead I second and third guess his motives, I analyse every phrase he writes or tells me. I can't believe he doesn't already know - it seems so glaringly obvious to me, as if I have it written in neon above my head. Perhaps he does realise and is trying to let me down gently.

And I am desperate for his touch. I literally have trouble keeping my hands off him.

Why do I have long hair?

- As it swings, the weight pulls gently on the nape of my neck. Which keeps me in a slight state of arousal all day.
- It looks downright beautiful fanned out behind me on the pillows or in water.
- I wear tied up most of the day. Letting it down really is a palpable moment of freedom.
- I love the feeling of you lifting it to kiss the back of my neck. Or even better to rub your cock through my hair against my nape.
- It swirls around us as I give you a blow job.

Falling in love is so difficult.

The constant feeling of excitement at the bottom of my stomach. The concern for every word I write or say to get it right, to impress, persuade, to charm, to seduce. The desire, no the downright need for an instant response, and then the over-analysising, searching for meaning that might or might not be there. Knowing that my own feelings are clear in my eyes, but unsure as to whether what I see in his are real or a mirror of my own.

When you believe in love at first sight, the Underground is very frustrating. What if your one-and-only has just got off the previous train?... what if they got onto the next carriage instead of mine?

I find myself staring very intently, which just isn't done.

As I came out of the tube station, there was a busker doing Elvis. You had to admire him, he was really giving it the whole show. I couldn't help the smile, but mostly everyone just kept walking by. In rhythm...

I turned towards the head on the pillow next to me and I knew the look on my face was impish.

'Oh Lordy'.

Indeed.

Shampoo Solo:

if i wake up sleepy at approximately 3:09 a.m. and send you a text message that says something like "i wish you were here" and you show up outside my window a half hour later, there's a good chance that you are fucking awesome.

I got an email today:
'You are truly wonderful. XX'

I'm not sure when he started adding kisses to his emails, a few weeks ago maybe.

I can't decide if my reading of his motives is coloured by my fantasies involving him.