Boy Experience...

Have enjoyed Boy Experience.
Being an accepted part of gatherings. The fun and laughter and spontaneity. The physical intimacy. Even the beer.
The past month's been a hedonistic holiday from my normal life and now that Boy is phasing out, I can feel the holes he was filling, craving to be filled.
I knew I was getting out of balance with him when I realised I had holes.

Grieving has been token thus far. I miss his touch and his smell. I miss his moments of unmasked gentleness.

There have been many full circles in our time together.
Last night I was 16 again. I was the ‘easy’ girl who, with one phone-call, goes out into the cold, catches the bus then walks 30 minutes in the rain to get to his place.
I stood or sat around with not much to say – waiting for his cues. We sat on kitchen chairs in front of the heater being guardedly civilised.
Weather talk.
He started falling asleep and I decided to leave.
I felt no warmth as I said goodbye.
I knew it was over.  There was just the extrication process to go through before re-developing friendship.

I'm thankful that I've been shown needs I wasn’t aware of. Now that I know – I can’t unknow and I'm comfortable with having them and knowing how they need to be met, without feeling insecure or untogether about them.  Not needing to apologise for, or explain them.

I've discovered and accepted that I'm high-maintenance.
Mental high-maintenance.
I require stimulation and now that I know and accept, how could I settle for anything less?
Does this mean that he whom I find mentally stimulating may be just as mentally stimulated by me?
Someone who keeps coming back.
Who isn’t scared of his emotions.
Who's supportive and accepts support.
Who's strong, even in his vulnerability.
Who's brave without bravado.
Who's spontaneous.
Who has a taste for adventure.
Who's intuitive.
Who has a sense of balance and style.
Who's creative.
Who's practical.
Whose integrity exceeds mine.
Who isn’t afraid of what’s true.
Who doesn’t allow time, money or resources to get in the way of doing what’s right.
Who understands and has a collection of meaningful.
Who sees all the things I secretly love about myself and cares about the ones I don’t.
Someone I can call home

Brown Director Journal June – Oct 2004