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One More Man

July 3, 2015

I want one more man to tell me how amazing I am. One more man to tell me I’m beautiful, inside AND out! One more man to tell me how piercing my eyes are, that they can see the world in them, that I could kill with them. Please bring me one more man to tell me how smart and witty I am. And so well-read, you know, for a woman! And brave and talented and creative.

I need one more man to wonder at the beauty of my photographs and compliment me on the style of my writing. Can I please have one more man to tell me that my weird-shaped, small-breasted body is sexy and intoxicating. Oh, and I would really like one more man to run his hands through my hair and tell me how soft it is.

And just one more man to inhabit my space and love it there, to share meals with and bake cookies with and sit up all night drinking wine and talking with. I just want one more man to find my messiness an adorable sign of my creativity and lack of pretension. Or maybe just one more man to be that guy I dance with all night long as we share palpable chemistry and he pulls me in close and puts his cheek on mine, giving the illusion that he might want to do more than dance with me. But he needs to do this repeatedly over the course of months for the full effect I’m going for here.

I really, really want one more man to enter my life, seize my heart and share just enough of his life with me……and become just a little part of my life…..for just enough time for me to begin to believe that maybe, just maybe he might be around long enough to fall in love with me. Just one more man that I can have the hope of having……what’s it called again?….a relationship? with.

And can this one more man, after a few weeks, a few months, can he then go away……..off to India or Iran or a job somewhere else…..or maybe this one more man can just be unavailable, once he’s inserted himself in my heart. Maybe he can be married or just decide that he wants to “see other people.” You know because he just got out of a long relationship, poor baby.

Or if that’s too much, he can just be crazy. Once I’ve become addicted to this one more man’s kisses and had long conversations, looking into his eyes, the cray-cray can reveal itself.

Please, this is all I ask. I just haven’t had enough these past few years.

Syrian Doctor, Tennis Bashir, Sam, Z, No. 5, The Twin, the New York Times Guy, Lennon Glasses, Mr. Moon and finally Pumpkin Patch.

It just hasn’t been enough. Can I please just have one more man?

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From → Rantings

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