I can't figure it out.
Princess pointed it out, all this ridiculous nonsense of never finding any time alone together, oh it's never intentional, but he has a happy home and there are always people visiting.
And neither of us have all that much free time.
Or whatever excuse you come up with, but on my way there last night, thinking to myself "I'll grab a quick nap on the couch like I told him, so I can be coherent when everyone else arrives..."
And as I'm falling through the door of his house, pulling a blanket over my eyes and dozing off to Riz playing Diablo and Paul strategizing her armour with her... I'm wondering what I'm waiting for.
Why am I still here.
It's been weeks. I meet tantalizing people all too often.
We've had one day alone together in all that time, and despite the rising affection between us I've got armfuls of doubt - so what am I waiting for?
Maybe I'm going soft, too tired to play the game cold-heartedly this season.
Sometimes when he's tired he'll try too hard to be funny and say something that strikes me as horrendously wrong. I'll scrunch up my virtual face inside and go back to whatever we were doing, and then I'll ask myself again, and again, there's so much wrong here, and I'm not used to making the effort of putting up with anything that isn't supposed to be important.
It's inefficient, you see.
And then I woke up because the bed was moving, turning around under me, and I was in the air again, and then I was on his favourite black pillow, and then I was being wrapped and my feet weren't cold anymore, and the blankets were so tight that I couldn't move, nor would I have known how to, as those cheekbones appeared and grinning impishly he stole my glasses away so they wouldn't "make holes" in my face...
And I watched him curiously as he moved a soft hand to brush hair from my forehead and I laughed louder than he did when he caught himself in the moment and messed up my curls, and then we were pals again.
And I lay back with the covers over my face again, and let the aftershock settle, repeating some sad mantra of "it's only cuz I'm tired it's only cuz I'm so tired..." that I let him.
I let him treat me like a little girl and no monstre at all
and this manling, with no prestige or claim to brilliance or fancy toys or clothes or twist of words and poetry, this boy I should never look at a second time
picked me up and caressed me with an affection different from the kind I lavish upon friends and barmates alike
and it was the sort of touch reserved for people who need it.
who're looking for it.
And I'm wondering if I've gone soft, and I'm wondering when my lack of patience for bullshit and nonsense and the Great Waste Of Time suddenly abated.
Maybe I don't need it anymore, maybe I pushed hard enough in work and school and work and school and maybe now I'm letting go because I don't need to push so hard anymore
but the monstre is feeling not very monstrous at all.
And I'm wondering. Why don't I just turn around and run.
Maybe I will.
One more try, and we'll see.
Because frankly... All this skin brushing across skin is sweet enough, but I've got things to do. ;)