I want to sit here and write about how great it is to have this nice guy in my life, even if I can't figure out what the hell it's all about. To say, it's nice coming home in the middle of the night with my hair smelling like smoke and him and being tired and sore. It's nice to have that on-the-edge kind of feeling because there's someone you'd jump into bed with this second if he were here. It's nice to feel wanted in that way. It's just... nice. And kind of hot.
And then there's this other part of me that wants to wander down some other path, one that leads to decisions and conclusions. That path can't include this guy. Not now, not ever. He is Mr. Right Now, and I hate to say that, because it's dismissive. But I don't know how not to dismiss him, because he's... less than I need him to be. Another stray puppy, and I am not keeping any more strays, even if they want to come in the door. And there's no real indication of that.
So what I want is to sit back, and just be here and think my happy erotic thoughts, and, for once in my life, not want this to be more. But at the same time, not allow it to be less.
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