Some Kind of Magic

I feel a bunch of stuff this morning. Good stuff. Weird stuff. In the middle stuff. Is this really my life stuff. I'm not really sure why. It's my first quiet morning on my own in some time, that could be why. It's all surfacing to the top: is this what I want? Am I not missing something?

I'm missing some me things - writing and sculpting - there is just no time. I have to make time. I have five extra pounds of poop in me because I can't even find the alone time to poop. Shit is moving fast (not literally, obviously. Well, today, actually it is. My poop is, like: We're free! Open the gates!). I know, I apologize, I'm slightly obsessed with my bowel movement schedule. "Sorry."

The Greek. Sigh, where do I begin? It started in late 2014 and we are mid 2017. I am fully immersed in a relationship I could not stop. In the beginning, it was a freight train barreling towards and through me. Almost three years later, here I am. In love.

I guess I want to describe it, poke at it, look underneath it just a little bit and just today.

The sex - fucking amazing. It's like we're two unencumbered souls that are curious and intrigued about each others bodies and are freely exploring delighting one another. Unlike previous relationships I've been in, there is no... pretense? that we play along with. It is more genuine and fun and open and... unprescribed. As if we've had no teachings of how we are supposed to be in this situation, two young souls untouched by societies boundaries. I imagine that this is what sex is like for most people? People that haven't been hurt or fucked up by someone else.

I imagine that this is normal for him - but, then again, it doesn't appear that he has experienced this level of sexual exploration (lite - don't get excited) and fun as well.

I feel very free and healthy with him. I guess all my other partners weren't really keen on exploring and didn't quite have the same appetite as me. The Greek most certainly does.

I catch myself imagining a home with him, and sometimes it actually feels realistic if not unavoidable. Sometimes though, when I am catching myself, I wonder about the niggling feeling that right now I am exploring a part of me when I'm with him. I don't really feel like I am being my whole self - maybe. This is what I don't know - it's the good, weird stuff that I'm not sure of.

Some of this feels like a new me. I find myself wondering how long I can keep up with new me though. Old me was pretty lackadaisical. Old me was tired of that though and wanted adventure.

I wanted to DO THINGS. I wanted to live. I want to live. I am living.

It's not just about sex. We go for bike rides. Aimless bike rides just for fun. We roller skate (he's learning). We hang out and just touch each other. Tomorrow, we're taking a day road trip. We might take a dance class together. He puts me to sleep by rubbing my head, legs, feet. He loves to pamper me (which I am actually enjoying, this must really be love).  I look at him from across the room and feel such lovely love.  He annoys the fuck out of me at work sometimes and then I get over it. We have little spats and then I am so grateful and relieved when we put it to rest and I have him in my arms again. Like... seriously.

Today, no matter what happens, this is a gift. And that's all there really is to know.

I would just like to write down though - that we found each other and get to share this together - it seems... like some kind of magic happened somewhere in the universe.