My heartbeat was drumming a frenetic, syncopated rhythm on internal djembes that got me thinking that both our ancestors were being summoned to approve of whatever the fuck was going on here.

I bit deep into his words and waited for my teeth to sink into their counterfeit charm, concocted to get something from me, but all I could taste was something rich and warm and smooth,

Their understanding and relative liberalness gave me the freedom to opt for a degree I’d enjoy rather than one that would set their mind at ease. Quite shortsighted of them to value my happiness.

If a guy like you doesn’t think I’m a bitch that means I’m fucking up somewhere.”

Honestly, why do so many guys mistake vigor for technique? Like, okay, you want me, this much is clear and, frankly, understandable, but what are you going to do with it? Where is the finesse, hon? The clear understanding that you are handling a masterpiece?! You’ve got this far. Appreciate it.

There’s some, uh, friendship trauma there. I think I was worried that you guys wouldn’t like me if I was all of me you know? Like I would let you down or something.”

“I also know how my favorite movies make me feel. They pull me in and pull me out, I am totally in their world, but they also make me look in. I watch them and feel home, I watch them and feel like I can never know enough, I watch them over and over, always ready to discover the universe they create.

He didn’t engage with his attraction to you because he was so sure of your attraction to him, and why bother trying to make you feel good when he assumed everything he did would automatically feel good to you?

He was good. And not just a One Size Fits All good, but good enough to match me. He was feeling me out, taking the lead gently when it was clear I was ceding power.