don't be cool

“We write in order to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.” Anais Nin


Sometimes before he wants to ask me a question, he’ll start with a pre-requisite:

‘I’m going to ask you a question. But don’t be cool about it’

And then when I laugh:

‘No, really, don’t give me the cool answer, ok?’

Usually for questions that pertain to him. About when I started to think of him sexually. If I had come to his house prepared to have sex that very first time.

How would he feel if he read here?

Of course this blog is for me and me alone, but it’s interesting to think about sometimes.

Would he be uncomfortable with how much thought I’ve put into him and me?

Or will he understand that I think too much about everything really?

That this is what I do with everything, every second I live, store it away somewhere so I can mull over it later on.

I cannot imagine being any other way.

My story, this whole blog, is one huge drawn-out instance of me being incredibly ‘not cool’ about it.

I’ve tried always to make sure that nothing I wrote here was because I thought it was the ‘right’ thing to say.

So maybe, even as he winced at the details revealed open here, as he grew indignant at my whining, surprised at my unexpressed insecurities, and yes disturbed at the depth of emotion, a part of him would still be able to appreciate it.