I love you. You put your glasses on to watch me come back to bed from the bathroom. That's adorable, and so are you with only your glasses on.
The first time I slept beside you, I dreamt of white, chalky peppermint candy covered in multicoloured sprinkles. I awoke to find you propped up on your elbow, looking at me.
After your patient, warm, inventive tongue had made its way all over me and made me come, I flopped into sleeping and dreaming again. This time I dreamt I was describing to a mutual friend the amazing, buttery, creamy cake I'd just eaten.
Our second night together, spent washing and rubbing each other, left me soft and dreamy and high.
The massage bar, a vanilla heart infused with gold glitter, was a gift from a friend in support of my ending an excruciating love. I'd put it in the back of the cupboard and forgotten about it until we got out of the shower.
After my rub, you left me to sleep, and as you closed the door I stretched out my arms to admire their glinting golden dragon scales by candlelight. I remember thinking: "If I'm the dragon, he's my treasure."
Your eyes are slightly downturning at the corners, your nose curves downward a little, your erect penis curves in toward your belly. These curves are adorable, and they contribute to your softness, which I feel like a fuzzy blanket even when you're not with me.
I miss you when we're apart, but it's a missing without anxiety or suspicion, without the feeling that whatever takes you away from me is my enemy. Missing and trusting is a warm, blanket-like luxury.
My trust in men had gone wandering off, and I thought I'd never see it again, but it returned in response to your persistent but unobtrusive warmth, patient listening, friendship, sympathy and straightforward honesty and trust in me. All relationships develop edges, but trust softens them.
Your skin is soft and salty, especially salty just below your ears. I like to lick you there, and I like to suck the salty ooze out of you; the harder I suck, the more I get, and the more I want. When you're moving in and over me, your softness is gentler than my own fingertip. I go quiet and concentrate on my wanting.
You bend way down to put your cheek against mine when we hug, but if we're out walking and I find steps, a curb or a rock, I love to jump up for hugging. You walk me home and, when you get home, send me an e-mail to say my eyes are clear and pretty. You take my hand and hold it in your pocket, and worry that I'm not wearing a hat. When you smile at me, your face becomes heart-shaped.
You wait outside your door for me when I'm coming to meet you. When you plucked an eyelash from my cheek, closed your eyes and blew it away to make a wish, your face was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen.
When I'm troubled or frantic, you don't try to fix everything. You listen, take me on your lap, kiss my face, suggest I have a warm bubble bath. I feel loved, even as I whine and flap.
Our loving is so comfortable inside me, it seems like it's been there forever. Really, we've only been giving it full expression for a few months.
Right after our first kiss, we talked about the difficulties we'd face intertwining our lives. I'm the single mother of a young child, always working two or more jobs.
You're a student in pursuit of a graduate degree and work that contributes to your happiness. Still, I feel hopeful.
Your first visit with my son was full of promise. He loved making a special ceremony to welcome you, and he was pleased by your gracious response. My son likes your gentleness and your voice (I do, too) and the way you talk with him. I can see the three of us together in whatever future comes.
Early on in our courtship, before I even knew it was a courtship, I had a dream: We were up in the canopy of a rain forest, watching in awe as a little gecko sprang carefree from leaf to leaf. I said: "If she can do it, we can, too."
It was intimidating - no, it was terrifying - but we jumped. We bounced downwards off one pliant branch after another, but then the branches stopped and only tree trunk remained for the last several hundred feet.
The free fall was thrilling, but I thought: "Well, I suppose we'll die in an ugly heap on the forest floor." Just then, an acquaintance was passing by underneath the trees. She held out a hand and caught us both.
Telling you my dream was my way of asking: "Will you please jump with me?" You did. For that, I thank the gods and most of all, I thank you.