Dawn breaks over the glass house I call home. I wake with the sunrise, and I look over. You’re lying next to me. Still peacefully asleep with a smile on your face. Dreaming of me? I hope so…

I lie next to you for several moments—which feels almost like eternity. I can’t help gazing in awe. At your face. Your body. You’re so incredible. And you’re my girl.

You weren’t always. You fought it. Because of life. Because of others. Because of expectation.

Yet, somehow, it’s always been you. Every moment with you is like we’ve always known each other.

I rise carefully… not to disturb your slumber as I slip out of the bed. I head down the spiral staircase, and start the coffee pot. For you. I hate the stuff.

While the coffee brews, I make myself a cup of tea and start preparing a light breakfast. I think today we’ll eat it on the balcony. Yes, I’ll prepare a tray.

I carry our breakfast out to the balcony, pausing for a moment as I pass the bed… adoring your beauty. You’re just beginning to stir, and sheet has slipped from your breast. Every day, I want you so bad. Even though I have you.

You join me on the balcony, wearing only a sheet. I smile as I watch you eat. It reminds me of the night we met, when I snapped a picture of you eating that gyro. And another of you laughing at me afterwards—your eyes sparkling with wonder!

Now, I just keep the images mentally… because you’re my girl.

After breakfast, you take the dog for a long walk in the woods. I do my daily push-ups and settle down to write.

I write about life. About how understanding does not come from thinking. About how we have to defeat our own egos. Every. Day. In order to get what we want.

No, that’s not right.

To get what we deserve. Yet another piece of writing about how we are all that get in the way of our own happiness. Perhaps, yet it looks different from the other side.

You are my muse. You inspire me to write. To open my heart. To be vulnerable. To realize we had to climb over all of those bodies in our past to get to where we are today.

You return silently with the dog and begin preparing lunch for us. You have taught me so much about life and nutrition and diet and lifestyle changes. You have rescued me from my anguish. Yes, these are the thoughts that run through my mind as you grill us delicious sandwiches for lunch.

“Perhaps I can write about that tomorrow,” I think, as you bring the tray of lunch up our spiral staircase.

Did I really just use the word, “our?”

After taking a long lunch—I simply can’t stop watching you eat. Well, I simply can’t stop watching you. Period. Full stop—we part ways for the afternoon, each to work on our separate projects. We have to finance our lifestyle somehow, yet I’m always looking toward the day we can simply curl up and enjoy our “nappuccinos.”

I love those li’l words that are… ours.

(There’s that word again.)

As the evening approaches, we’re reunited. We share a drink and talk about life and beauty and our day. I am amazed that we continue to find each other’s perspectives fascinating. With no one else, can I share my views on the great taboos: religion, society, politics.

Is this a relationship? I don’t know… we were both led to believe relationships are work, and this doesn’t feel like it. We simply enjoy each other.

After dinner, we take the dog for a walk in the woods. A long, lingering walk… occasionally holding hands, occasionally I’ll fall behind (so I can gaze at your amazing ass), and occasionally stopping to laugh at the dog as she plays.

We return to the cabin and do our own thing for a while. Me? I usually read. You? I am content you are here. That you are my girl. You do whatever keeps your heart full.

Later, I will do my part to keep you full.

Later comes. Some nights, we’re filled with passion and tear up the bed and soak the sheets, and laugh as we have to do the laundry. Maybe that can wait until morning. Who gets the wet spot tonight? Shall we flip a coin?

Not tonight. Tonight, we’re both content to simply embrace… until we make love anyway.

And I watch again. I watch you fall asleep… and I am grateful. For you are incredible. And tomorrow will be just as incredible.

The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.

Good words. I know now what I must do.

Do I?

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

This axiom has been firmly embedded in my brain since a nine-year-old boy saw a li’l movie at the drive-in which climaxed when a half-alien sacrificed himself to save a starship.

Which is fine. These are great words to live by! The joy we create with our generosity of spirit is truly a beautiful thing.

Yet, I lack balance. I need to find that third way. Years later, I am still struggling with awakening my repressed selfishness. Even though I know repressing anything breeds unworthiness and self-loathing. And leads to repressed sexuality.

I’m currently reading a book my friend Patrik recommended called Sex at Dawn. Nearly every page blows my mind, in that agriculture, society, religion, and policy have always (and continue to) stripped the egalitarianism they claim to want.

I’ve been taught selfishness is wrong. Yet society tends to reward the selfish. I share, but I want and need. And my wants and needs tend to be ignored.

The following passage from the book compelled me to share:

It is difficult for members of a modern individualistic society to imagine the extent to which the Canela saw the group and the tribe as more important than the individual. Generosity and sharing was the ideal, while withholding was a social evil. Sharing possessions brought esteem. Sharing one’s body was a direct corollary. Desiring control over one’s goods and self was a form of stinginess. In this context, it is easy to understand why women chose to please men and why men chose to please women to expressed strong sexual needs. No one was so self-important that satisfying a fellow tribesman was less gratifying than personal gain.

This text threw a spotlight on my sexual repression. I fail to express strong sexual needs—especially to the girls I like!

And who knows why I’ll talk about sex to girls I am not attracted to, yet not the girls I adore… I think unworthiness is the key to this mystery. I’ll save this for another discussion… unless someone here thinks they are related.

Aren’t sexual needs selfish? Is this why I am unable to express them to the true beauties in my life? Am I using the less attractive as an outlet?

And most importantly, is there a solution to my anguish?

What i'm listening to:

good for you
Olivia Rodrigo
SOUR