Welcome to my family:
It's Christmas Eve, so the phone calls have started pouring in. When you're in a family as big as mine, somebody has got to start early otherwise we're all going to end up on call waiting. Ladybug called first. I sent him a package full of goodies and he called to thank me for them. He sounds like he's having a good time, but he also sounds lonely.
And then I remember - it's not his first year in the Marines, but it is the first year he's been away for Christmas. We spent an hour talking, laughing, the longest I've ever spoken with him on the phone, and hopefully he comes away from it feeling a little better. I've come away from it feeling a little more heartbroken. I didn't have the time to realize how much I miss him, but now that I've slowed down and we've spoken - I miss the boy who jokes with me in broken Russian and draws comics we plot out together and understands my jokes.
My other brother called tonight, "I heard you're going family-less this Christmas?" he jokes. His humor is dry and biting.
"That I am. I'm just too tired this year. I need a break. You get a break every year!" I accuse. He lives 20 hours away from our parents and his wife makes the trip more often than he does.
"Yeah, well, this year K's mom is coming over," I wince for him. "You at least getting laid? Spending it with a girlfriend?" I wince again.
"Fuck you, I'm working on it," I groan into the phone.
"K, she's in a woman mood! This is your problem!" I start to protest but he hands the phone to his giggling wife. I love K, and even though we're not blood-related, she was the first sibling I came out to.
"Hello? What's wrong with you?" she laughs.
"He's just being a jerk," I smile. "Wants to know if I'm getting laid for Christmas."
"Ah," she pauses. "So, do you have a girlfriend?"
"K! Seriously?!"
"Jeez, you're blushing, even through the phone! Tell me!"
"I don't have a girlfriend," I pout. "Leave me alone. Merry Grinch-mas, I hope your presents suck."
She laughs and calls to my brother, "Someone's got her in a twist!" I can hear him answer faintly in the background "Tell her to work it out! She needs to relax!"
"Goddamnit, I'm hanging up," I threaten.
"Wait! So, you don't have a girlfriend, but you obviously like someone, so what's the hold up?"
"I-" I'm frustrated and embarrassed and don't want to talk about this, but I also do because I feel like my heart is going to explode. "We're just talking," I say instead, and keep my deep, dark secret to myself.
"Oh, okay," she sounds disappointed. "You got kicked out of class every single day in high school, so I know you've got a back bone. Use it," she threatens good-naturedly.
"Noted. Merry Christmas, K. Love you. Tell the kids I'll Skype with them tomorrow." We hang up and my heart feels heavy. I want to confess. Want to write her an email, but I know how crazy it sounds. It sounds crazy to me!
I've been having dreams that I'm married. I imagine having the courage to tell her. I don't know who she is, or if it is psychological and just means that I'm finally ready for a real relationship again, but she's been plaguing me for months. My brain says "No, it's fake, find a real-life girl!" but my subconscious drags me back in, and amidst her laugh and her hands in my hair, I drown.
But I stare at my phone and the screen is black. All my courage is gone.
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Dec 24, 2012
Oct 29, 2012
Steam
This is playing in my head on repeat. I can only imagine what dreams it will bring.
Update: Dreams get so slutty sometimes. It's not exactly rare for me to have sexy dreams, but it's not common. So, last night I knew, I could just feel it before I slipped off that my state of mind was in that place. You know the place I'm talking about - the place where you ache to touch and be touched, to breathe against skin and feel wrapped in heat.
So the dream came as no surprise, but the setting shocked the hell out of me. Remember in Day 2 when I mentioned I've been having marrying/being married dreams? This was one of those. It feels strangely private even though I don't really know this girl and it didn't even happen in real life.
We were in our apartment, it was definitely our apartment, it felt warm, comfortable, lived in, and she was getting ready to leave. She looked wonderful, jeans and boots, and I felt uncomfortable next to her in my too glam for me dress.
"Hey," I stopped her from leaving with a hand on her arm. God, she was warm, so warm, and my legs were freezing. I wanted to curl into her. "It's your bachlorette party and I want you to have fun and everything," I smiled, stroking the soft skin below her neck, "but if you sleep with someone else the night before our wedding I will kick your ass, got it?"
She grinned and leaned in for a kiss. I let her take me, desperate, fearful, joyous, triumphant, wanting. "You got it," she promised, and reached for the door. I pushed her back and she let me, surprised. I took her mouth and felt her moan rumble through my chest. I reached for her hand and led her fingers up my bare leg to my waist and she pushed harder against me. I popped open the button on her jeans and she pulled away, breathless, "What are you doing?"
I knew we both had to leave, but I couldn't stop now. I slipped to the floor and touched my lips to the skin of her hip, took a few breaths to make sure either of us could stop this if we wanted to - if we were really worried about time or other people. I could feel her shake against me as the warm air passed over her flesh. "Reminding you just what you're coming home to," my lips curved against her skin, and when our eyes met it was electric.
Update: Dreams get so slutty sometimes. It's not exactly rare for me to have sexy dreams, but it's not common. So, last night I knew, I could just feel it before I slipped off that my state of mind was in that place. You know the place I'm talking about - the place where you ache to touch and be touched, to breathe against skin and feel wrapped in heat.
So the dream came as no surprise, but the setting shocked the hell out of me. Remember in Day 2 when I mentioned I've been having marrying/being married dreams? This was one of those. It feels strangely private even though I don't really know this girl and it didn't even happen in real life.
We were in our apartment, it was definitely our apartment, it felt warm, comfortable, lived in, and she was getting ready to leave. She looked wonderful, jeans and boots, and I felt uncomfortable next to her in my too glam for me dress.
"Hey," I stopped her from leaving with a hand on her arm. God, she was warm, so warm, and my legs were freezing. I wanted to curl into her. "It's your bachlorette party and I want you to have fun and everything," I smiled, stroking the soft skin below her neck, "but if you sleep with someone else the night before our wedding I will kick your ass, got it?"
She grinned and leaned in for a kiss. I let her take me, desperate, fearful, joyous, triumphant, wanting. "You got it," she promised, and reached for the door. I pushed her back and she let me, surprised. I took her mouth and felt her moan rumble through my chest. I reached for her hand and led her fingers up my bare leg to my waist and she pushed harder against me. I popped open the button on her jeans and she pulled away, breathless, "What are you doing?"
I knew we both had to leave, but I couldn't stop now. I slipped to the floor and touched my lips to the skin of her hip, took a few breaths to make sure either of us could stop this if we wanted to - if we were really worried about time or other people. I could feel her shake against me as the warm air passed over her flesh. "Reminding you just what you're coming home to," my lips curved against her skin, and when our eyes met it was electric.
Oct 24, 2012
Day 2 Redux Dream Girl
30 Day letter Challenge Redux
Day 2 — Your Crush
Ohhh man. I have so many kinds of crushes. How about a little something different?
I've never been a dreaming kind of girl. My sleeping history has been riddled with mostly nightmares, not dreams, so when I met you, dear friend, what a surprise that my nightmares paused. My normal ratio is something like 3:1 in favor of nightmares, but for weeks it seems to have reversed.
Even in my happy dreams, I've never dreamed of a relationship with someone in future tense. I've never had a sleeping dream where my partner and I were happily together ten years down the road. For someone who has feared commitment most of my life, I am now dreaming of you in the most interesting of ways - introducing you to friends as my wife, watching as you stand up for me against an old adversary. These dreams are not sexual in nature but imply a deeper bond, a trusting, warm link that makes me feel safe and comforted - things which are hard for me to feel during my waking hours.
The fact that I barely know you makes this even more interesting. I hardly know anything about you, and yet, in my dream you become my everything: my fierce guardian and protector, my giggling companion, the person smiling and pushing hair out of my face as we linger in the quiet kitchen of a social gathering.
Who are you, and why do you make me feel so safe? Is it a psychology thing? Have I become more accepting of love and kindness, more willing to lean on someone else, and this is being personified through you?
Now when I wake I still feel distress, but only because I wish I could fall back into slumber with you.
-
Day 2 — Your Crush
Ohhh man. I have so many kinds of crushes. How about a little something different?
I've never been a dreaming kind of girl. My sleeping history has been riddled with mostly nightmares, not dreams, so when I met you, dear friend, what a surprise that my nightmares paused. My normal ratio is something like 3:1 in favor of nightmares, but for weeks it seems to have reversed.
Even in my happy dreams, I've never dreamed of a relationship with someone in future tense. I've never had a sleeping dream where my partner and I were happily together ten years down the road. For someone who has feared commitment most of my life, I am now dreaming of you in the most interesting of ways - introducing you to friends as my wife, watching as you stand up for me against an old adversary. These dreams are not sexual in nature but imply a deeper bond, a trusting, warm link that makes me feel safe and comforted - things which are hard for me to feel during my waking hours.
The fact that I barely know you makes this even more interesting. I hardly know anything about you, and yet, in my dream you become my everything: my fierce guardian and protector, my giggling companion, the person smiling and pushing hair out of my face as we linger in the quiet kitchen of a social gathering.
Who are you, and why do you make me feel so safe? Is it a psychology thing? Have I become more accepting of love and kindness, more willing to lean on someone else, and this is being personified through you?
Now when I wake I still feel distress, but only because I wish I could fall back into slumber with you.
-
Oct 13, 2010
Day 2: The Crush
Today's letter challenge is to write a letter to my crush. Well, I don't really have a crush at the moment, so I am going to take this time to write to my celebrity crush whom I have never met and obviously have no chance with.
Dear Sonya,
I admired you from the moment I saw your work. You inspire others to dance the music that lives within your heart. I can see your emotions, your blood running through their veins for a few precious minutes.
You seem so tough, are so tough. You have a backbone that allows you to kick down doors and stand up for yourself and others. But when you speak, Sonya, that's when I see through the bad ass exterior to the more vulnerable state within. When you cry, it is because you are so moved that it is the only way you can express yourself.
You move your body like no one else I have ever seen. You care about the world, about our kids, and genuinely want to make life better for others. You pour your heart and soul into your dance, and when I watch it, it is like seeing through to your very core.
And your hair, I mean, my God, could you be more amazing/gorgeous/awesome/badass/insert adjective here?
I respect you, I admire you, and I think you are totally hot.
-Tabby
Dear Sonya,
I admired you from the moment I saw your work. You inspire others to dance the music that lives within your heart. I can see your emotions, your blood running through their veins for a few precious minutes.
You seem so tough, are so tough. You have a backbone that allows you to kick down doors and stand up for yourself and others. But when you speak, Sonya, that's when I see through the bad ass exterior to the more vulnerable state within. When you cry, it is because you are so moved that it is the only way you can express yourself.
You move your body like no one else I have ever seen. You care about the world, about our kids, and genuinely want to make life better for others. You pour your heart and soul into your dance, and when I watch it, it is like seeing through to your very core.
And your hair, I mean, my God, could you be more amazing/gorgeous/awesome/badass/insert adjective here?
I respect you, I admire you, and I think you are totally hot.
-Tabby
Feb 24, 2010
Point/Dreams
As if the fates wanted to prove my point for me, today is m:girl's birthday. Twenty ninth.
Last night I had this terrific and somewhat explicit dream, but there was one aspect of it that was slightly bewildering. I was writing in a journal on a blanket amongst the grass, and I was with an older woman. She complained of feeling tired, and laid down by my side, curling into me under another blanket. I made the first move, and she willingly kissed me back, melting into me and under me with a beauty I had never experienced before. Without being too detailed and explicit, we made love. (And, oh my gosh she had a piercing that drove me wild.)
After it was over, I looked up and she was one of my acting professors from college. Granted, this particular professor is a gorgeous older woman whom I love and admire very much, but I love and admire her with an unprecedented respect that makes a sexual desire for her out of the question. She hadn't turned into another person, I just hadn't recognized her face before we made love. That is the start of our relationship, glowing with satisfaction on an old picnic blanket in the middle of a field of green grass.
The scene moves, and we are inside a room somewhere (it looks like a spaceship), making a movie about her life, her sexuality, and the scene is set for us to make love. It is the same conversation we had before making love on our picnic, however, the blanket is gone and it is clear that we are on this spacecraft. Though they are the exact same words we said to each other during our lovemaking on the picnic blanket, they are now harsh, false, and ugly. In the end, I can't stand to look at her, and as I walk away, I wake up.
Now that I am awake, I feel ashamed for having a dream like this about someone that I feel should be put above sexual fantasies. I feel dirty for having dreamed about her that way. However, I also wonder about the shift in scene. I wonder about how all of the sounds she made in the grass could sound like the sweetest of music, but under cameras and lights could sound so false and wrong.
It makes me wish I had a therapist or dream analyst who could tell me what my subconscious is trying to say.
Last night I had this terrific and somewhat explicit dream, but there was one aspect of it that was slightly bewildering. I was writing in a journal on a blanket amongst the grass, and I was with an older woman. She complained of feeling tired, and laid down by my side, curling into me under another blanket. I made the first move, and she willingly kissed me back, melting into me and under me with a beauty I had never experienced before. Without being too detailed and explicit, we made love. (And, oh my gosh she had a piercing that drove me wild.)
After it was over, I looked up and she was one of my acting professors from college. Granted, this particular professor is a gorgeous older woman whom I love and admire very much, but I love and admire her with an unprecedented respect that makes a sexual desire for her out of the question. She hadn't turned into another person, I just hadn't recognized her face before we made love. That is the start of our relationship, glowing with satisfaction on an old picnic blanket in the middle of a field of green grass.
The scene moves, and we are inside a room somewhere (it looks like a spaceship), making a movie about her life, her sexuality, and the scene is set for us to make love. It is the same conversation we had before making love on our picnic, however, the blanket is gone and it is clear that we are on this spacecraft. Though they are the exact same words we said to each other during our lovemaking on the picnic blanket, they are now harsh, false, and ugly. In the end, I can't stand to look at her, and as I walk away, I wake up.
Now that I am awake, I feel ashamed for having a dream like this about someone that I feel should be put above sexual fantasies. I feel dirty for having dreamed about her that way. However, I also wonder about the shift in scene. I wonder about how all of the sounds she made in the grass could sound like the sweetest of music, but under cameras and lights could sound so false and wrong.
It makes me wish I had a therapist or dream analyst who could tell me what my subconscious is trying to say.
Dec 22, 2009
Ignoring/Holidays
So, every time I try to write about first:girl, I have a major block that won't allow me to write anything at all. Therefore, I just feel like I should not try to write about her for a while, until I can really get a handle on things.
I realized, through lesbo's comment, that I have never really talked about schooling before, which is kind of a big topic for me.
I am an alumni of a performing arts college, but have recently decided to give up that career path in favor of something else. I was never really a great singer/actor/dancer and I also rather enjoy watching other people perform instead of doing it myself.
That being said, I made the career switch to journalism. I would love to be a theater/art/dance/literature critic, as well as articles about society's positive/negative impact, gender studies, queer theory, etc. Anything I can write about, I want to write about. My major is Journalism, and I'm hoping to minor in gender studies or psychology. Or maybe something else I've never thought of! Let me know if you have a suggestion that I should look into!
In other news, the holidays are approaching quickly, and this is the first year that I've been single and aware that I'm a lesbian. I know that I don't do well with men. I don't trust them, I don't like to be sexual with them, and I don't really like to be in relationships with them.
However, I've had a few guys who were more than happy to chat me up and be suggestive with me this past week, and I have been so lonely that I honestly thought about making out with one of them. I haven't been physical with someone in so long that the thought of kissing anyone is somewhat appealing.
This, of course, has thrown me into a tizzy. Does it mean I'm not gay? Does it mean I'm bi, does it mean I'm straight, does it mean that relationships with men may now work out because I fantasized kissing one of them? Does it mean I still love girls but am lonely?Do I even care what label I am anymore? It won't make life any easier for me once I've found a label for myself. And who is really going to come up to me at a bar and ask me to identify myself before she'll chat with me?
I had this thought the other day that maybe I want to date girls because I was so in love with first:girl that I'm trying to find her clone. Then, of course, I remembered that I liked girls before she came along.
I think it's just hard to be lonely.
I realized, through lesbo's comment, that I have never really talked about schooling before, which is kind of a big topic for me.
I am an alumni of a performing arts college, but have recently decided to give up that career path in favor of something else. I was never really a great singer/actor/dancer and I also rather enjoy watching other people perform instead of doing it myself.
That being said, I made the career switch to journalism. I would love to be a theater/art/dance/literature critic, as well as articles about society's positive/negative impact, gender studies, queer theory, etc. Anything I can write about, I want to write about. My major is Journalism, and I'm hoping to minor in gender studies or psychology. Or maybe something else I've never thought of! Let me know if you have a suggestion that I should look into!
In other news, the holidays are approaching quickly, and this is the first year that I've been single and aware that I'm a lesbian. I know that I don't do well with men. I don't trust them, I don't like to be sexual with them, and I don't really like to be in relationships with them.
However, I've had a few guys who were more than happy to chat me up and be suggestive with me this past week, and I have been so lonely that I honestly thought about making out with one of them. I haven't been physical with someone in so long that the thought of kissing anyone is somewhat appealing.
This, of course, has thrown me into a tizzy. Does it mean I'm not gay? Does it mean I'm bi, does it mean I'm straight, does it mean that relationships with men may now work out because I fantasized kissing one of them? Does it mean I still love girls but am lonely?Do I even care what label I am anymore? It won't make life any easier for me once I've found a label for myself. And who is really going to come up to me at a bar and ask me to identify myself before she'll chat with me?
I had this thought the other day that maybe I want to date girls because I was so in love with first:girl that I'm trying to find her clone. Then, of course, I remembered that I liked girls before she came along.
I think it's just hard to be lonely.
Dec 12, 2009
Hot Vampire Girls/Forbidden Fruit
Twilight has brought up many different feelings for me. I've enjoyed the books, the premise, and the general idea of vampires. However, I would never enjoy fantasizing about a vampire girlfriend for myself, and I've tried, just to figure out if I could.
I think part of it is that I was raised in such a catholic home, that a piece of the forbidden fruit is appealing. Taboos are arousing when they are just that: a taboo. I love gay male porn, I love people who are not good for me, I love bad girls, I love women in general(which that relationship in itself is forbidden). But put two of those together (e.g. woman who is bad for me+lesbian relationship) and it's too much forbidden stuff. I do actually want a happy ending, and compiling too many odds against you is just asking for heartbreak.
So, immortal girl+wants to eat me+lesbian relationship+can't get married in my state+socially not accepted+can't go out in daylight= Not a relationship I want to be a part of.
Does anyone else have a resounding "no" in their head when they think about hot vampire girls?
I think part of it is that I was raised in such a catholic home, that a piece of the forbidden fruit is appealing. Taboos are arousing when they are just that: a taboo. I love gay male porn, I love people who are not good for me, I love bad girls, I love women in general(which that relationship in itself is forbidden). But put two of those together (e.g. woman who is bad for me+lesbian relationship) and it's too much forbidden stuff. I do actually want a happy ending, and compiling too many odds against you is just asking for heartbreak.
So, immortal girl+wants to eat me+lesbian relationship+can't get married in my state+socially not accepted+can't go out in daylight= Not a relationship I want to be a part of.
Does anyone else have a resounding "no" in their head when they think about hot vampire girls?
Dec 5, 2009
Laughable/Comfortable
Seeing old friends from high school who knew you as straight is not that fun. Not that they aren't wonderful, accepting people; it's just that orientation becomes everything. To those people you are something new, something they never expected you to be, or had never encountered before.
Seeing old friends who have always known you as gay is absolutely wonderful. Needless to say, I've just done that. I went to dinner with seven people I attended college with, and someone new. Everything was warm and friendly and funny (and it helped that there was another queer woman and two gay men at the table). Sex came up, of course, but it wasn't wonderment or disgust, it was practicality and "who're you seeing now?"
It was wonderful to talk about sexuality, topping, bottoming, even having crushes on straight people and how to cross that bridge whenever we have come to it. (I'm crossing that bridge at the moment.)
When we started talking about labeling and why people do or do not assign labels to themselves it was nice to have someone understand that I want to label myself for me. When I mentioned that I had tried to label myself as butch for a period of time the entire table burst into laughter. Apparently I am the least butch girl they had ever seen. Once I explained that I was trying to label my whole persona by how I feel in bed they were more understanding. I'm still waiting as to what about me is not butch at all.
There was a beautiful woman three tables over who kept meeting my eye. She had glossy black curls, dark brown eyes, a mouth that begged to be kissed, and an overcoat that was too trendy for the little hick-city we were in.
The bathroom had two stalls, so when my friend and I walked in, we waited. Interestingly enough, the two women inside were talking about the double date they were on. This piqued my interest as one girl started talking about her (female) date and how she just wasn't interested.
The beautiful woman who kept catching my eye across the dining room walked out. I let her pass by me to the sink and took her place in the stall as she kept chatting. "She's just a baby. I'm going to end up taking care of her. She's not emotionally ready." Every moment she kept talking my heart was pulled in two directions. I wanted to take care of this beautiful femme with full lips. I wanted to pull her glossy hair and watch her submit to me while I fucked her. I wanted her to shudder underneath me and pull my body to hers; seeking my body heat, wanting my comfort. The other side of me cowered in fear. Was this what I would appear to be? A baby who'd never had sex? Someone who needed to be taken care of?
I wanted to walk out of the stall, press her into the counter and watch her expressions in the mirror as I kissed her neck. I wanted her to melt in my hands until she would whisper a plea for me to drive her home. I wanted to prove that my love and respect for strong femmes would urge me to take care of her, and not the other way around.
I just didn't know if all that would constitute as a lie. I don't feel young, afraid, or unready. But I also don't want to make anyone else take care of me if it turns out that I am any one of the above.
The other night, I had a moment. I was laying in bed trying to get to sleep, and scenes from my adolescence kept flashing before me. It was different, to have a realization hit you without urging. An epiphany that gave me the courage to finally move forward in my life, to plan for a future without the fear that my sexual orientation is just a phase.
It was like I felt my soul click into my chest.
Though I didn't make a move for the beautiful woman I will probably never see again, I have that knowledge that I am here, I am real, I am comfortable with who I am (maybe for the first time in my life).
But it helps that I have feelings for both my wonderful new friend and a straight girl that my life path keeps intersecting with, too.
Seeing old friends who have always known you as gay is absolutely wonderful. Needless to say, I've just done that. I went to dinner with seven people I attended college with, and someone new. Everything was warm and friendly and funny (and it helped that there was another queer woman and two gay men at the table). Sex came up, of course, but it wasn't wonderment or disgust, it was practicality and "who're you seeing now?"
It was wonderful to talk about sexuality, topping, bottoming, even having crushes on straight people and how to cross that bridge whenever we have come to it. (I'm crossing that bridge at the moment.)
When we started talking about labeling and why people do or do not assign labels to themselves it was nice to have someone understand that I want to label myself for me. When I mentioned that I had tried to label myself as butch for a period of time the entire table burst into laughter. Apparently I am the least butch girl they had ever seen. Once I explained that I was trying to label my whole persona by how I feel in bed they were more understanding. I'm still waiting as to what about me is not butch at all.
There was a beautiful woman three tables over who kept meeting my eye. She had glossy black curls, dark brown eyes, a mouth that begged to be kissed, and an overcoat that was too trendy for the little hick-city we were in.
The bathroom had two stalls, so when my friend and I walked in, we waited. Interestingly enough, the two women inside were talking about the double date they were on. This piqued my interest as one girl started talking about her (female) date and how she just wasn't interested.
The beautiful woman who kept catching my eye across the dining room walked out. I let her pass by me to the sink and took her place in the stall as she kept chatting. "She's just a baby. I'm going to end up taking care of her. She's not emotionally ready." Every moment she kept talking my heart was pulled in two directions. I wanted to take care of this beautiful femme with full lips. I wanted to pull her glossy hair and watch her submit to me while I fucked her. I wanted her to shudder underneath me and pull my body to hers; seeking my body heat, wanting my comfort. The other side of me cowered in fear. Was this what I would appear to be? A baby who'd never had sex? Someone who needed to be taken care of?
I wanted to walk out of the stall, press her into the counter and watch her expressions in the mirror as I kissed her neck. I wanted her to melt in my hands until she would whisper a plea for me to drive her home. I wanted to prove that my love and respect for strong femmes would urge me to take care of her, and not the other way around.
I just didn't know if all that would constitute as a lie. I don't feel young, afraid, or unready. But I also don't want to make anyone else take care of me if it turns out that I am any one of the above.
The other night, I had a moment. I was laying in bed trying to get to sleep, and scenes from my adolescence kept flashing before me. It was different, to have a realization hit you without urging. An epiphany that gave me the courage to finally move forward in my life, to plan for a future without the fear that my sexual orientation is just a phase.
It was like I felt my soul click into my chest.
Though I didn't make a move for the beautiful woman I will probably never see again, I have that knowledge that I am here, I am real, I am comfortable with who I am (maybe for the first time in my life).
But it helps that I have feelings for both my wonderful new friend and a straight girl that my life path keeps intersecting with, too.
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