It’s hard to say why I keep coming back to her. Why she keeps coming back to me. In both a literal and a figurative sense, really.
It’s not something that happens intentionally, but lingers near the surface, sometimes bubbling up, sometimes sinking deeper and getting lost along the push and pull currents of everyday life.
I met her only once. Looking back, it was a moment of vulnerability. Busy, overworked, feeling like I’d lost a life I had, but hadn’t quite built a new one.
That’s not to say that I wasn’t acting with intent. I was itching…hungry. Missing the touch of a woman. Missing the taste of her sweetness on my tongue. And who showed up in my hunger and haste, at the tips of my digital fingerprints, but this woman.
Bold. Bold and unexpected. Confident and funny and sweet, but direct. She knew what she wanted and had all of the forwardness to take steps I could never imagine of myself.
She made me remember what it was to be wanted again, because she had chosen to be there with me.