December 18, 2003
December 18, 2003 - 10:00 a.m.
I don't know how it happened, that the man I dragged away from a party mid-September (and screwed blindly against a knotholed fence) became so important. We did everything wrong. We met in a bar. We had sex before the first date. He's a smoker, divorced, with a child. Short enough that in my four-inch heels, I top him by two inches. I weigh about 5# more than he does.
However it happened, being with him has given me new faith. We are better balanced than I thought possible. I respect his intelligence, his obsession with motorcycles, and his dedicated parenting. I fantasize about the double ridge of muscle that runs down his spinal column. He tells me that my smile is the most beautiful he's ever seen.
We spent three hours last weekend talking about how frustrated we are with the Democratic party - then we went to a friend's art show and argued about lithographs. When I was upset about being called 'aggressive' by mutual friends, he let me cry, then said that one of the reasons he loves me is because I stand up for what matters. That I don't let him push me around. In the same vein, I love that he can fix my dishwasher and invite a transvestite and her lover to dinner. He is the best kind of challenge.
And the sex - oh my. It's not just that we're still new. It's that already there are so many kinds of joining. Noisy and slamming. Dirty talk and changing positions. Intense and delayed. Whispers and sliding palms. Sleepy spoons in the morning. Massage and tickling.
We have a long road in front of us. We both know that good matches don't always make it. But being with him gives me hope. He is shelter. He is support. He is a man in every sense of the word. And I love him something fierce.
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