You make me want to scratch my face off.
It’s not out of anger – it’s that every second you’ve been in my life has been a combination of fluttery highs that have made me happier than I can describe, and anxiety of when are you going to fuck this up because you know you will.
And it’s not that you have not told me how you feel, if your own special and lovely way. It’s in the way you touch my skin, in your words in my ear, in the way you raise your eyebrow that tells me you’re thinking of all sorts of terrible things you want to do to me. In the way you say you miss me. In the way you call just to say hi.
It’s because I never thought I’d feel this way at all, let alone with someone who could, maybe, possibly, like me back just as much.
And having never done the adult actual bona fide relationship thing, I’ve never had any desire to have the conversation of;
“So, what are we?”
Because any time this might have potentially come out I would retreat into emotionless pit of darkness with a supply of vitamin D supplements because no one has time for that shit.
But you make me want to venture out of my little fox hole and sniff at the sun.
And you terrify me, but in a way that makes me want to jump off the high dive, that pushes me further, that makes me want to try.
So, the other day when we had a conversation about our future goals, our plans, our dreams – I had a moment of;
Is this enough for you?
I am not ashamed of my job, of what I’m working for, of what I’m doing. But the nomadic, artistic life is definitely one of those concepts that will make a person say
“Go do it, go follow your dreams and passions and conquer the world,”
“Sure, that’s fine, but what are your real goals?”
And I’ve been thinking about this, because again, that nagging horrible voice in the back of my head is saying,
You’re not enough. What you want is not enough. They’ll want more.
And a realization came from a most unlikely of sources.
You don’t have to be enough.
After all, isn’t that why you’re poly?
Because, you and I, and I know I’m getting so far ahead of myself, but, we can have our own little bit of happiness, create something together, and it can be ours and beautiful.
But you can also go do that with someone else, and that’s okay.
I’ve always thought about the concept of ‘other halves,’ solely in how it relates to me. In that, I firmly believe that one person will not fulfill all my emotional and physical needs. That one person, or no one, might be all I can handle at any given moment, or all I want at that specific moment, but in time, I may find that x and y is missing from my life. It might be that a and b needs aren’t being fulfilled. That I want to explore m and n. Whatever the case may be, it is not fair, or, indeed, accurate, for me to identify as monogamous when I am aware of these aspects of myself.
However, I haven’t spent too much time thinking about this from the opposite perspective. What it would mean if I was not enough for someone.
And again, I don’t know what we are right now.
But I know that I love the feel of your hands around my waist as my legs wrap around you.
I love the feel of your teeth against my shoulder.
I love sitting on your couch with a beer watching something stupid on TV.
My friend told me that my eyes go soft when I talk about you. Because you are a lot of firsts for me.
You are the first guy, as an adult, I have missed when they’re not around.
You are the first guy I would be willing, even want, to stick some sort of label on, whatever that may be. Something that gives it the impression of stability.
You are the first guy who’s friends I have met. Hell, met more than once.
You are the first guy who I want to come to, versus having them come to me.
You are the best sex I’ve ever had.
You are the first guy who makes me want for something more.
That being said,
You will not be my other half.
You will not be my soulmate.
You will not be the center of my universe.
But, you could be my love.
And I want to believe that we’ll figure it out as we go. Because if you are not enough for me, and I am not enough for you, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you don’t still want me, or that I don’t still want you.
And maybe that’s why I like you so goddamn much.