I'll Be There Every Day

Originally written on September 18, 2009 at 5:29pm

"I don't care how great this guy is, and he sounds pretty great, but you can still screw this up." (The LSU Professor)

I remember being twenty-years-old, and running down the halls of the Newark airport away from him, running past people in my boots, carrying my bag, running and running because I couldn't stand to see the look on his face. I didn't think about what was going to happen once I was back in California. I didn't think because I was young and foolish.

"You can't do this to me, you can't make me feel this way, and then leave me. It's not fair." I'm crying, and I'm into dramatics because I'm intoxicated. These are things you're not supposed to say if you want him to think you're sane, stable and not a needy mess. I know this. I'm crying anyway. I can tell him this because he can handle it, because I know I won't scare him.

I keep repeating myself like my brain has gone into emergency mode, and all is left is the short circuit from the mouth to the most recent cognition. I'm half-naked, and I don't know what's wrong with me. I want him so bad it's all I think about, it's all I want to do, and when he touches me, it's like being lost in heaven. The fear, but, is almost equal to the lust.

Whenever he's inside of me, I have direct access to all of the emotions I can suppress during the day. Whenever he's inside of me, I can feel myself losing control and falling in love. Surely, he must know. Surely he must understand this when I ramble, unwilling suddenly to take off my pants.

He tries to calm me down, "I'll be there every day, okay?...Shhh....what do you want me to do, hun?"

This, I don't know.