I do not remember if I dreamt, but I definitely woke up and thought of you. I blame being single and not dating in too damned long and a fine night of merriment and interpersonal connection.
I am still giddy.
There is not a lot to do at 3am. I could make art and likely will in a bit. I could “write”, but have been a tad blocked of late and this resolves best when left to its own devices in the back of my head.
So I did the second thing on the short list of ‘things I really want to do right now’ — I googled the fuck out of you.
I’ll spare you the bread crumb trail. Suffice to say it was good enough to satisfy my raving curiosity about your online history, and a good bit of my nosiness about you in general.
I suppose that sounds stalky. I suppose it could be stalky. I suppose that is why I’m telling you rather than hoarding all the stalky possibility to myself (that, being something I would think a stalker would do and this, my silly way of trying to convince myself that being so fucking curious is not a bad thing).
In case it is not evident, this is my trademark and legendary curiosity and intensity kicking in… you’ve done it now, mister. (chuckle)
Among the other things, I found your Live Journal. I doubt you realize how much of yourself shows there, particularly as you began the account by saying nothing about your personal life would appear there.
I am thoroughly charmed by the read. I am sitting here wishing I had let myself hug you more tonight. Mostly because you’re damned huggable, but also because it sounds like you’ve been missing caring closeness these last few years and I rather like the notion of being someone you might allow to give that to you.
If you mistake that last paragraph for anything even remotely resembling pity, I’ll give you the roshambo. Just sayin’…
You’re a charmer, as I’m sure you know. Those eyes… man… they sure don’t hurt matters. But the mind behind them is far more attractive. It’s been a while since I’ve sighed over a man. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it.
I spent the last two hours of our time together wondering what your face does when you sleep.
The ‘goofy grin’ you ascribed to me was mostly my amusement at myself for wanting to haul you into the backseat in your own damned cul de sac.
I was annoyed to have to go home. I was annoyed not to be able to invite you home. I was annoyed that my back seat and my fears got in the way of my own sweet, sluggish pulse for you and the enjoyment of knowing you felt the same.
I want to do it again and soon. Stupidly soon. Over-eagerly soon. Well, ok, maybe not the idiocy of avoidance part.
You’ve reminded me of a lot of things, and I’m thankful for the reminders. But I am more thankful that I’ve had the stupendous and amazing good fortune to encounter you.
Does it sound odd that I am this enthused? I worry about my trademark intensity. It has frightened folks off in the past. Hrm. I think I’m trying to say that I’m interested in you.
Hah. How long did it take for me to just spit that out? I’m laughing at myself. Letting folks in is scaaaaaaaaary. (long cat!)
Friends or lovers, whatever the outcome, I’m glad to have encountered you, I’m eager to know you, and I’m tickled to be tickled over you. So thank you for that, too.
Meh. 3:37am. Hungry. I miss bacon.
Alright, buzzy thoughts on page. Sending them and then sighing relief at getting them on paper and over to you.
Damn. Yum. I should have said and didn’t — you’re a mighty fine kisser.
Le Sigh.