I’m such a mix of emotions I don’t even know where to begin. It’s like they’re buzzing and sparking inside me, striking off one another to grow and amplify like a broiling fire.
Tuesday night was a magical 3rd date with James. He couldn’t see me for two weeks due to work commitments, but when I saw him, so tall and handsome outside the Dominion Theatre, it was like all my worry fell away. He wrapped me up in a crushing (if sweaty, London is horrifically hot) hug and, as I held him close to me again, I remembered just how wonderful he is. There’s something to be said about a man who can be drenched in sweat with a bandaged hand and yet becomes even more endearing. Who draws you to him like a lodestone.
We kissed one another, unable to resist the temptation. His shoulders were so broad and his arms so strong. There was a mutual attraction and respect which is all too rare. I don’t fall for a man truly very often. But when I do, it’s overwhelming.
As we walked to the restaurant, we fell so easily into conversation. Does anyone else find that all too often by date 3 you have simply run out of things to say to one another? I do. But not with this. Not with James.
After dinner and a lot of laughs, we took a walk we ended up in The Yard. There, we didn’t really say too much of anything. He simply held me. So close and so tight. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be truly held by a man, with no pressures or expectations. The music thumped around us as everyone got steadily drunker, but nothing else seemed to matter; nothing but the warm, heady scent of him as I rested my head on his chest. The touch which implied what we each desired but couldn’t do.
And when we did talk, it was of geeky things we were both interested in; books and video games, films and walking tours we secretly wanted to do. It was like we both shared the same obsessions, including one for each other. To say goodbye was like a torture, even if we made an arrangement to meet up again on Sunday.
As I made my way home, my mind was consumed with him. All I wanted was to fall asleep next to him. Not even in a base sexual way, just in the sense of having him there. Of that feeling of comfort and safety which can only come from spending the night with someone we wholly trust; the adoration is simply an added joy. The friendship is the most solid foundation.
Everything about him I find attractive and endearing: his face, his voice, his body, his mind, his persona. I want all of him wholly and totally. His faults and his favours, all of them are simply aspects of his character which I want with a tenderness and affection which I can scarce describe. And, even more wonderfully, he gives every impression that his feelings are steadily returned.
I scarce dare to hope that someone so wonderful and so brilliant could feel the same about me.
I suppose, tragic as it may be, that I’ve grown used to the disappointment. For the reality to be so much more stark and earthly than the dream I composed in my mind. Yet from the first, from the moment the broad-shouldered stranger turned at me and smiled, the reality was so much better than anything I dreamed.
I long to be in his arms again. To run my hands across his broad back and along his stubbled jaw. He sparks something inside me, something I cannot explain. Something beyond the sensations of our bodies touching or of our shared interests, something deep inside me, buried behind walls of ice and years of suppressed disappointment, that lies with longing.
But is it ok to get carried away with our feelings, or should be work to curb them? I don’t want to fall too fast or too far so that it frightens him away, but my imagination runs riot and unchecked when I think of him. I frighten myself. All I know is that when I’m with him things feel…right. Work and petty stresses fall away at the touch of his hand or the curve of his gentle smile. We seem to have a mutual tenacity which compliments one another perfectly.
He does truly seem to be a wonderful man.