His text messages are scintillating. I’m at a complete loss, living with flushed cheeks and a smile I can barely contain. I am in so much trouble.
This is a call for an intervention. I am in wayyyyyy over my head. I’ve realized a whole lot in in the last week. I dated him casually eight years ago, but I’ve patterned A LOT around him, since.
- That spelling penchant of mine? We know where that came from, now. I’ve learned two new words this week and have had to adjust to being in a constant state of arousal.
- My predilection for menswear? Shit. Also here. I am barely clinging to my self control as he sends me a pic on his way to work. Dear God. I should write some of the ideas that he’s inspiring, down.
- Library dates. Nobody has ever come close to comparing to the one he showed me.
- Strip club dates, be still my heart. I became something of a legend when I took him for the first time. I may have capitalized on this one a few (dozen) times since then. It’s never been as fun as when I took him.
- Rough sex. This is where all my behind-closed-door favorites, originated.
H- I always wanted to please a woman until she screamed.
J- I volunteer as tribute.
H- Do you mind if I try a few things I’ve always fantasized about?
J- Nooooo….Do I need a safe word?
H- I don’t think so? Just talk to me. I really like stealing the words out of your mouth with pleasure.
- The good Daddy vice. I’m only attracted to the good ones, and he is THE BEST. Every date was always contingent on the little’s being safe, sound and out of earshot.
Three more months of his self-inflicted celibacy while drowning in the intoxicating details of a man whose left me smiling and picking out men who reminded me of him, since. I feel like I’m in high school again, with his texts whistling at me to test my resolve even further.
Doomed. I. AM. DOOMED. My walking Achilles is free balling it in court today on my behalf and I’m biting a hole in my lip just thinking about it. I’ve never been jealous of criminals before. This man. This incredibly intoxicating muse of mine is tying me in little bitty knots… and there’s a whole lot more of that to come.
I’ve been trying to think of a safe first date. Not dinner. NO MOVIE. No car rides, no dark rooms, no dancing.
What could possibly go wrong?