It’s impossible to ignore the crackling tinder fire that ignites whenever he is around. I’ve done everything I could think of to scrub him from every facet of my daily thoughts, but deep down…. I’m annoyed by all this frustration. Dating other people isn’t working. The temperature continues to climb and I couldn’t force myself to avoid him with a billion dollar bribe.
I can ignore how warm his hands are. Lots of people have warm hands and I realize that this is an irrational reaction to something completely normal. When you’re craving a specific set of digits, any temperature they greet you with will be just right.
I hold my breath when I’m close to him. I can’t be haunted by how good he smells. I’m already haunted by enough of his details. I still catch myself leaning in close to him instinctively because he smells fucking amazing.
For the record… it’s soap. Motherfucking soap. This is what happens when you have a physical need for a man. You get hot and bothered by a basic bar of Dial.
I avoid his chest like my life depends on it, because it does. We all have our breaking points and that’s mine. There’s something so purely masculine about him that I just die a little as I talk myself down from climbing right into his lap.
J- Don’t smell it. Don’t touch it. Don’t even look at it. Think of that man like he’s a trillion calories wrapped in a billion more. You can’t afford him. Yes, it would satisfy a lot, but it’d create an ocean of cravings and you just barely avoided drowning the last time.
Yep… that’s what it’s come to. Pep talks with myself because I’m short on willpower and chock full of desire. Completely platonic things, set me on fire. He grins at me and it’s like a kick in the damn ovaries.
Forgive my french, but I’m absolutely fucked.
Whilst being completely celibate…. of all the injustice.
Send help. 🙂