|
All of this waiting made our Heather...
| ... a bit downhearted and impatient. But alas! (continue) |
 |
What happened next, was....
|
What you, readers, need to understand is that our lovers BOTH
hate flying. Quite a lot. So, Madame Corinna goes to great lengths
to provide her love with many pursuits and distractions during
his flight, which always arrive in a rather large box, with a
wide array of surprise silliness, the occasional low-flying smut,
and more than a little romance.
The airplane package before last looked like this.
|
 |
|
And the last bit of goodie inside the package for this flight
was this, which when the seal was broken, read:
"I. LOVE. YOU." |
 |
And so, our devilishly handsome and beamy beau stopped upon seeing
his chickadee, waved the paper, opened it, smiled and walked out,
where she whooshed him majestically out of traffic, saving his
life and he rewarded her with an onslaught of kisses.
|
 |
 |
You know what happened next.
But what you do NOT know is...
...that in the middle of all of the kissing and the embracing,
our Mr. Price took Madame Corinna's face in his hands and told
her he loved her right to her face. Then wash, rinse, repeated this outcry about 367 times.
To this, our heroine responded by beaming like a goddamn floodlight
and finding herself unable to breathe. But still able to smooch,
mind you.
|
 |
 |
(continue)
The next morning, after breakfasting ...
... on a plethora of orgasms, many smiley claims of affection,
a long, hot bath with snuggles and more orgasms, plenty of rich
coffee and some lovely ripe cherries...(continue)
Mark thought to himself and later remarked,
"My girlfriend is a beautiful badass. Look how she handles those
curves! Observe how she smiles at me! See how much she loves me,
all glittery in the sunshine! Hmm, bikini, pretty. Damn, are my
thighs chafed." (continue)
They biked, they beached, they swam, they snuggled, they enjoyed
hurling various two, three and four word phrases at one another,
as many lovers do:
"I love you. I'm done. You're it. You're my one. Stay with me always.
I'm all yours. WOW. Hot damn. This is so weird! How did I find
you? Myhoneysweetiebabydarling. Now, let's go screw." (continue)
... oops, there goes the fourth wall!
Because, let me tell you, that was a beautiful day. It had ALL
the good stuff. I got to keep moving, show the other half of my
heart what I love about the city here in summer, get wet a lot
of times (ba-dum-dum), including what I have no doubt looked like
really cheesy in-the-lake macking down, but what the hell, this
is MY great romance, thank you very much. I also got to sit out
of doors and sip wine with my sweetie who looks mighty fine all
the damn time, but who, in black shirt dinner-gear, is completely
drool-worthy, whispers some very sweet and salty nothings into
my ear very regularly, and spent all of the day and evening looking
at me as if I were the eighth wonder of the world.
AND who I really fucking missed, to the degree that we were already
agreed that we would NEVER be apart five weeks again. AND who
makes something of a habit out of both allowing me to do naughty
things to him and dedicating himself entirely to my pleasure.
AND who I remain flabbergasted at how completely and naturally
I connect with, even when he says something I find utterly appalling
or makes me snort wine out of my nose. So. (continue)
This third-person stuff is for the cynics: I can talk to YOU mushy
saps freely.
Suffice it to say, I'm not the easiest person to present, even
from a distance, to one's parents. That's not to say I'm not nice
and friendly and have no social skills: actually, most people's
parents tend to like me a lot, be they friends, lovers, students,
what have you. Generally, I do pretty okay with the folks. However,
if one is being forthright about what I do with my life in full,
it can be tricky, and to date, I don't know any partner I've had
where we've gotten to the parental point who HAS been even remotely
honest.
But my guy has. His family are good people who love him a lot,
but they are somewhat more conservative than I, to say the least.
So, while he felt confident -- if for no other reason than that
he had apparently never mushed about anyone to them previous to
me -- there was some nervousness. I was handed the phone at a
certain point, and found myself talking to this dreadfully adorable
man with an Ohio/Kentucky border accent who opened the conversation
by telling me that though he'd not met or seen me, he knew I was
absolutely beautiful.
One gets a glimpse of where the Price Charm comes from.
It was a really lovely conversation, and when the phone was passed
back, and mark said his farewells, he informed me that his father
had told him he'd visited one of my sites, asked if Mark loved
me (to which he replied he did, falala), and stated that, then,
already, they loved me, too.
This caused both of us to mist up (and my boy is NOT a sniffler
or a crier, mind you) in a somewhat embarrassing fashion, but...
JAYSIS. I mean, seriously, how sodding cool is that? And how happy
Mark looked about this would have been gross if it wasn't so goddamn
cute and so fucking touching.
Wowsers. (continue)
I really, truly cannot express to you, without sounding like a
flatterer or a teenage girl, how brilliant this boy is with his
hands. I do, however, feel the need to remind you that this sort
of assessment does NOT come lightly from a woman for whom nearly
all of the sex she has been having in the past couple of years
has been with women who have made a lifetime pursuit out of their
manual artistry. Plus, hot water. Shiny freckly skin, times two.
Fucking yum.(continue)
I thought *I* was going to be inconsolable when it so happened
that Sofia passed on in the future. Can you imagine how a man
who loved a dog for the first time at 33 is going to be? Merde.
(But, look, look, lookie! The two loves of my life also love EACH
OTHER. How cool is that?)
(continue)
Photo taking, because we both...
... have somehow managed to make narcissism into a group activity
(which boggles the literal mind); are total hams and overly visual
people who cannot for three minutes in any day stop -- still --
saying, "Look at us! Look how fucking cute we are!" Plus, we always need fodder to sigh at longingly when we're not
together, and both still have plenty of moments where aspects
of this are so unreal that we have to have some sort of tangible
evidence where we can see, clearly, that we're not delusional.
Because we've gotten the hint when we're out and about that everyone
in their right mind can see the mojo we've got going on here,
even when they'd prefer a respite from it. Because we can look
at photos of us together and instantly be provided with a glimpse
of one of the most beautiful and perfect things either of us has
ever seen, even when we have our moments where we just can't fathom
how we got so disgustingly lucky.
(continue)
There isn't much I have to say to all of you about this that isn't
patently obvious. The cynical bastards are currently being scolded
on the other page, though, so if you want to stick out your tongues
at them, knock yourselves out.
Long and the short of it is: I have found the great love of my
life here. This has been a lot unexpected and has seriously rattled
my cage. And made me awfully silly. A lot.
And vice-versa. We are both stupefied by knowing this so firmly
in our guts, and by the fact that we had a pretty good idea that's
what the what was within just a week or two of meeting, and some
pretty potent hints right UPON meeting. And we both somehow managed
to do this -- to find each other the months back when we did --
at pretty much the exact same time -- down to the week -- in our
lives we were both saying, "To hell with this shit."
Amidst all of the people in the world, and despite having to meet
half a country away, quite spontaneously, despite gawd knows what
goes on with time and space, WE DID THIS.
And that, my friends, is a motherfucking miracle. Especially considering
my life. And Mark's love of bourbon. It's also but the tip of
the iceberg, because we're two people who not only already have
some decent accomplishments under our belts in the other areas
of our lives, we are such a stellar team that we've both no doubt
that as time goes on, not only will what we've got in our romantic
life together just keep getting better and better like it has
already, but that what we give each other will massively boost
up and energize all the stuff we do independently.
I have spent more than half my life, and all of my adult life,
very convinced that the closest I had to "The One" was when I
was WAY too young to appreciate it, was insanely brief time I
got it for, and ended in blood and trauma and hell, and that that's
just how it goes. And not only do I know quite sincerely I was
wrong -- and wrong in thinking the whole idea that there was this
one amazing person out there for me was bullshit -- without disrespecting
or dishonoring that in any way...THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN THAT. It's better than anything I bloody imagined, in the escalated
bits and in the mundane bits. And while I do wish Mr. Price had
hurried it up a little and found me before now, this is still
good enough to make all the previous relationship crap -- all
the people who tried to fix me, who wanted only the parts of me
that interested them, all those looking to me as a human liferaft
or as a shiny accessory, all the really ungodly betrayals, and
the heartbreaking disappointments -- I waded through 100% worth
it. It's even well worth a lot of the conflict and static I've
fielded over the last handful of months with friends, community,
the general public and even myself about gender and orientation
issues; about how it's oddly more socially acceptable to wax poetic
about what a great lay someone is than what a great love they
are (and whooo, doggy: gawd forbid you should have both going on).
Mostly, I'm totally elated. To the point that every day, I continue
to have moments where I think about all this, or we've just talked,
and I have to do a crazy happydance or literally scream out loud
for fear of imploding if I don't. Now and then, I'm completely
freaked out. So many of the rules and patterns I have always had
suddenly don't apply. For instance, I am in no way claustrophobic
with Mark in my personal space, with his belongings getting mixed
up in piles with mine, with him standing in a space where I'm
going to walk, all things that have always, always driven me APESHIT
with anyone else, even people I really cared for and was with
for a long time. In fact, I ENJOY these things. This, my dears,
is freakish. Our politics are sometimes not only not on the same
page, but in conflict. This, too, bizarrely seems utterly and
way-too-easily manageable, and in some ways, even ideal. And again,
I really, truly did NOT expect anything like this to come my way
at this point.
It's also very, very strange to earnestly feel that someone likes,
cherishes, adores and loves you for every single part of who you
are. And to find it so easy to feel the same way myself. This hasn't
exactly happened to me a lot: in friendships it has, but not in
romantic relationships. Ridiculous as it sounds, it does often
leave me breathless. I'm quite certain I have never literally
gasped when someone told me they loved me for the first time,
but then I never felt the sort of vibes I did/do here when it's
been said. I'm not sure I've ever felt such perfectly mutual love
and affection. It's bloody surreal. It changes everything. It really freaks me out.
I'm not going to prattle on much more about this here, because
I fully intend to keep doing so in the future, and I know that
you all don't need for me to explain why, even if now and then you
may wish -- and I can see why, really -- that I'd put a sock in
it every now and then just so we can all have a wee bit of a break
from the gushing. (I'm also tired and dizzy from doing such a
complicated entry, and I have about 24 hours to finish the book
revisions in.)
But, patronizing as it may sound, just as I said to the naysayers,
for those of you who don't have something like this? I send every
wish I've got in the world that you find it and it finds you.
Because this stuff IS THE BOMB. Even for recovering cynics --
who, as we all know, are generally just road-weary romantics -- like the two of us. (continue)
|
