on missing…

Sometimes you just do.

It’s been a while since I’ve had any male/female interaction other than work related. The one date I have been on turned into your typical name-calling fiasco when I refused to let the drunkish man come to my house – he seemed to think that paying for a whisky and some food gave him the right to a soft landing place for the evening. Even though I wanted to pay for my own food, precisely to stop that from happening. Suffice to say, that experience made me even more leery of even bothering to try and meet somebody worth knowing.

Now, when I talk about missing, I’m not talking sex. In this day and age, one does not need another human to reach orgasm – not the same, no, but much safer, physically as well as emotionally and the end result is the same – more or less.

No. When I talk about missing, I’m thinking about what a man smells like. How his shoulders feel when you wrap your arms around him. How it feels to play with the hair in his neck. The scratching of stubble on your cheek and that thrill of all thrills, a beard in your neck. The comfort of being able to touch another person, and being touched in return. The curling around when you sleep at night, the little shared looks and activities that make up a relationship.

These are a few of my favourite things πŸ˜‰

I thought about it the other day while watching Supernatural, again. Strange place to be reminded of what you’re missing, human touch wise, but it was vampire Benny and he does have the most delicious accent, so I would not at all have minded to be able to wrap my arms around him and hear that voice in my ear, whispering sweet nothings, or rather, pertinent facts, in my ear!! Alas. All I could do was watch it on screen, while another chick got to hold on to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers sliding through the hair on his neck and I realised that that kind of familiarity and comfort is what I would like to have. Not to feel uncomfortable touching the other person, or being afraid to touch them when and where you want.

I’m not talking about groping them in public, that’s distasteful – doing it, having it done to you and having to see it done, so no. Nothing like that. But to be able to run your fingers through his hair when the wind mussed it, or just because you feel the need to touch – that would be quite lovely. To hide your face in his neck, smelling the essence of him, and feeling safe.

Yeah. I’m missing somebody I might never meet. Or rather, what I had with my dude. Which is futile and needs to stop, sooner rather than later. Then again. I know what it feels like to be loved, completely and utterly, without reserve, without compunction – why on earth should I settle for anything less than that?

And there-in lies the problem. There are many men out there. Some of them may even be good men. But they are also spoilt men. The have the pick of very well looked after cougars. Women of experience, means and opportunity, prepared to put up with a lot more diva-behaviour than I’ve ever been. They have the choice of women – thin, big, tall, small, blonde, brunette – and here I rock up. Neither thin nor blonde, neither rich, nor inclined to deal with stupid issues – makes it difficult to find a person to be comfortable and familiar with. No. Knowing me is not a walk in the park. I never said that. I’m known for making uncomfortably true remarks. I am what I am, made that way through my experiences. And looking after yourself for a few years does tend to make you a bit wary of idiots. I read somewhere that Rachel Welch, I think, said – there are no hard women. Only soft men. And I can relate to that in a major way. Β But, as with the fiasco date, names will be uttered and even though I could not really be bothered what you call me, I’d really rather go through life not having to deal with your particular inadequacies. I’ve had to deal with my own issues. Still do that on a daily basis. And because I know everybody has their own problems, I do try not to make mine theirs. It’s the least I can do for my fellow human beings.

Life, as we know it, always goes on. It does not stop regardless of what you’re struggling with. And I’ve gotten good at forging the turbulent waters. But it would be marvelous to share some of that turbulence with somebody that can help me row the boat for a bit…

Hope your weekend is a good one – I have to fix my fishpond this weekend and that will entail mixing a few bags of cement and plastering the whole thing – yet again! Still. It’s good, hard, honest work and I will be able to see the fruits of my labour once done. Have a good one!!

8 comments on “on missing…

  1. I know a few women who say the same thing after losing a partner, they are a) lonely despite a good group of friends, and b) miss the contact. Tough one it is indeed

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