Our society is so fucked up, that when I told a friend what I desired in a (male) partner, I was told I was asking too much.
“Too much” included: someone I’m sexually attracted to, nice and makes me laugh, a guy who takes care of himself—isn’t careless with his mental health and physical health, but which doesn’t mean he’s a bodybuilder/buff-, doesn’t treat me like a sex toy (i.e. constant one sided sexual interactions), and not abusive. If that’s reaching for the stars, I’ll reach for the fucking stars. If I never meet a man like that, so be it. I’m happy alone too.
The most messed up thing about this, is the idea that a man like this doesn’t exist, or that he’s so rare, I’ll never meet him. Honest, loving, attractive, and fun guys exist who don’t expect sex dolls for a partner. And lets not forget that attraction is in the eye of the beholder, and people are attractive for their personality and thoughts as much as, if not more, than their physical shell. Hold out for the right one and love yourself until then.
The window screens have holes
in this rented, old house.
But I open the window still
to feel the night air,
with its gentle and refreshing chill
which lightens all that I carry
and washes the grime from my soul
A crisp, comfortable chill fills the night air. The gas fireplace pops and snaps like a flag in the wind, burning through blue-tinged crystals. The flames dance and leap as high as they can in their confined circle while a well-aged tree plays puppeteer to a host of lanterns. Blow its branches, multiple hues caress a manicured lawn with a soft glow.
In the distance the sun sets in pinks, purples and blues that peek through rain-heavy clouds and the river meanders languid and silent below it.
I feel most alive in this perfect moment where memories bob along the surface of my mind. Peace and comfort blanket me, as if no time had passed, as if I’d held my breath for decades. This is where I belong with my person by my side.