I wish I had a warm, naked boy in my bed. Waiting anxiously for me, smiling. Someone to hold me close and run his fingers down my back and kiss me on the forehead and tell me loves me.
Someone who’ll place his fingers gently on that spot, and I’ll lay my head on his shoulder and press my nose into his neck, and he’ll crane his neck to rest his head on top of mine, and whisper in my ear and make me shiver. With his free hand he’ll run a finger gently up and down one of my arms, loving the feeling of making me shiver. He’ll tell me that I’m beautiful, and that I’m all he’s always dreamed of.
And then. And then. And then.
And then I could say the same thing to him. Honestly. I’d mean it.
I can’t believe it. I’ve spent so many years accepting that I could never find the one I’ve always dreamed about, that it’s nearly impossible, even in this fantasy, to imagine it’s real. Just a part of recovering. The relationship left a wound, and it has to heal. One day I’ll have all the hope I need.
And maybe somewhere along the way, I’ll find someone who makes me believe.
Together, we’d lye, right now, in my bed. He’d laugh because my cat didn’t want to move from it’s spot, and then he’d hug me close and press his nose to mine. His breath would smell faintly of fruit, because he’d eaten some a little while ago. We’d have to be quiet so we wouldn’t wake anyone up. He’d have skin that was somewhat tan, and a sweet, honest smile. He’d be naked, and smooth, because he’d taken a shower about half an hour ago. Our bodies will mold together naturally. His eyes would be blue, deep, bright blue. He’ll kiss the scar on my chin from the time when I was 13 and went headfirst over my bike going down a hill. He’ll smell like shower gel and his natural smell. His distinct smell that my nose loves, and that I breathe in whenever I lay my head on his shoulder and place my nose against his neck.
We would look into each other’s eyes. I’d truly look him in the eye. Because I wasn’t afraid to. Those eyes hold nothing frightening, and my eyes have no guilt in them. What goes between us will be true. His erection will have grown and gently brush my thigh. I’ll blush, because it’s bigger than mine, and I always become giddy when I see it or feel it. I love to see it when it’s soft.
We’ll fall asleep holding one another. It will be comfortable. I’ll fit perfectly into his arms. He’ll kiss me at unexpected moments, just because he loves me so much. His name will be David, or Michael, or Titus, or Alexander, or Finn, I don’t know. But he’ll be the one. The one I used to think about when I was a lonely 14 year old who didn’t realize that a world existed outside my own house. He’ll be the one who makes everything in my life come together and make sense and have cohesive form. He’ll laugh at the things I say, and hold me when I cry. I’ll be able to cry in front of him. I’ll be able to feel every single emotion in front of him. My soul will be bare before him, bare like my body when I stand in front of him, naked in the night, a broad smile on his masculine face, he looks just like a little boy when he smiles. His hair will be dirty blonde. He cries sometimes when he thinks I’m sleeping. He’s doing it because he can’t believe he found me. I hold his hand when he does it. When he realizes I’m awake, he cries harder. I turned over and hold him and tell him it’s alright, that he can do anything in front of me.
Wherever we are is our home. He is the only thing I need. He is my soul. Like David and Jonathan, our souls will be knit together as one. He will occupy my mind, my body, and my spirit. I will be his vessel and his love.
I would wish it into existence, but I know full well that the Universe could have even better plans for me. I know that good things are coming.
The dog days are over. And happiness is hitting me steadily, not as a train or a bullet, but sometimes, when it hits me, life tells me to run. Don’t look back. Life is precious. Experience is precious. Privilege is rare.