Part of my mind is still in the rosy-pink glow of Saturday’s dream date. A part of me is scared. As wonderful as it was, I can’t help but think “what happens now?”

We’ve had almost no contact since Saturday, aside from a few messages on Sunday (he couldn’t come over because he was Christmas shopping). I opted to leave the field clear all day today. The date was straight out of a dream, but it was also one of the most intense of my life. We spent the entire time holding hands, touching, kissing. If we were in an Austen novel I’d be standing by waiting for his marriage proposal.

Is the key to love really letting go?

I loved what we had, and it felt like we were coming wonderfully close to something more, but when do we get to something more? How do you know when you’re there? How does he?

All I know is that I want it. And I want it with him. I can’t stand the thought of him drifting away with no word, of it all just falling apart as it has with other guys. I don’t know exactly what I want, but I know I want to build it with him. I know he makes me feel more safe and more special than any man before him has.

But there’s the nasty little voice in my head chiming “no one gets to have it all”.

Career. Friends. Health. Interests. Love?

It seems too much even to contemplate. The idea that e would feel enough for me to want to be my boyfriend makes me feel like I don’t deserve him. But he gave all the signals. As his eyes looked into mine, part of me knew. Part of me knew that he wanted me, beyond what we’ve had over the past few weeks.

I know now that it has to progress or it has to end. I can’t drift along endlessly “seeing someone”. I need to know how strong his feelings are, and I need to know how they correlate to mine.

We laughed and joked about our dream apartment. In our minds we filled it with things – leather sofas, books, a husky dog sleeping by the fire. Us cuddled up watching a movie.

Surely that means he’s serious? Do guys joke about their dream home with someone and then just leave them.

On the one hands I wouldn’t ever be surprised about how evil men can be, but on the other…I looked into his eyes, I saw something there. I just want him to reach out and ask to be mine. Because if he did, if he does, I’d be his.

I’ve never wanted someone, and have had it appear to be returned, as much as I want him. I’ve never been so eager for it to progress as I am with him. I know I need to practise patience, I know that it’s one of my chief failings, but the feelings are no so intense I don’t know how to curb them. They are like a vast, churning tempest inside me that’s bursting to be set free. But I have to know.

I have to know if he feels the same.

Because while the key to loving may be letting go, and while I am trying to stay objective, all I know is that I was the happiest I think I’ve ever been when he was holding me.

Holding me in front of a Christmas tree in Covent Garden as though he was never, ever going to let me go.




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