Why do I want him so much? It almost doesn’t seem fair. Nor healthy. Nor normal. I imagine that other people go through their day-to-day buying groceries, walking the dog, painting pictures, texting their mom, watching Netflix, driving up the coast, checking the speedometer when they pass a cop, eating breakfast, reading the paper, mowing the lawn, having a beer on a hot summer evening…. all mostly in their own head, their own bubble. Perhaps someone to share it with, perhaps not. Maybe another even flits across their mind.
Then, me, every single thing I’m doing, I’m thinking about him. Constantly. He dwells there in my mind. Him and his laugh. Him and his passion. Him and his thoughts. Oh, what would he say if he saw this? Would he laugh with me about that? I know he’d appreciate this…. I wish I could share with him that. Maybe he’d finish my sandwich for me. Maybe he’d grip my hair and kiss me deeply when the emotion of the setting sun overcame us both.
I want him. I want him more than anything. I want him in my life. I want my skin to smell like his and his hand to feel empty when it’s not wrapped around my own and to vividly recall the feel of my lips pressed to his no matter the time of day. I want to lie awake for hours right next to him just replaying the stupid little conversations we’ve had throughout the week. I want to text him explicit pictures during the day so he’s ravenous for me in the evening. I want to lay my head in his lap while we watch a movie, even though I don’t really watch movies, but I would this once, just to be with him. I want to cook him dinner and wash his truck and hem his pants and wash his dishes and blow his mind in the bedroom. And it’s all these everyday things I’m doing alone that I want to be doing together or doing for him. Because I love him and I want him to know just exactly how much. My life is complete with him.
And I know, you’ll say, honey, you don’t need a man to feel whole. That’s old-fashioned. You don’t need to do shit for him. But, you’d be wrong. See, I want to. I need to. And yes. He completes my heart… even if I don’t complete his. And I want to share every piece of my soul and my life with him. Overbearing? Yeah probably. Clingy? Needy? A bit much? Sure. Yeah. But this is who I am. That’s not going to change just because it’s not in vogue. Maybe I’m just aberrant, a little different, in my own way.
tara caribou | ©2018
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