When was the last time you fell in love? What was it about your lover that captured your mind and your hormones? Was it the way he walked? His scent?
I bet you can think of a whole list of things that turned you on – before you fell. Deep. In lust. In love. While you think about it, I’ll share a short recollection with you, about falling. And why….
I fell in love because he was forthcoming, genuine, respectful – and honest about his intentions.
I fell in love because he was open. I was not. But I enjoyed melting for him. The falling away of layers. Just so exhilarating.
I fell in love because in the absence of expectations, I got to know him for who he really was – and not who I hoped he would be (for me) and who I expected him to be (for me). I allowed him to “just be.”
I accepted and enjoyed the fact that I could never “turn him” into an ideal. Mate. Man. Being. Through annoyance of “why can’t he” and “why won’t he” and “me. pleasure me.” I fell in love with him because the tension was just right.
I fell in love because he made all my thoughts poetic. I wrote Late August Virgo and Falling. I chronicled and journaled. Wrote erotica.
I fell in love with his physical being last – initially subsisting on mental stimulation. But then. His scent. The natural smell of his neck. And the way he fit perfectly between my thighs. The way we took turns rolling one another over. On instinct. Me on top. Him on top.
I fell in love with his rhythm. The way his rhythm matched mine. That balance. The sway. His lips. His gaze. His height. Those abs. 8% body fat.
I fell in love with the idea of being led by a man I could trust. Catch me when I’m falling.
I fell deep.
I went reeling. Spiraling. Came down. Crashing. Withdrawal.
Cravings. Denial. Blocks. (No more poetry.)
It’s a whole different feeling when you fall in love with someone for who they really are, versus who you hope they are or who you expect them to be. And that whole process – of getting to know a person, takes time and genuine interest.
Layers melt away.