Weakling as I am, I gave in and started seeing my married Paul again. He's so fucking awesome. Hot hot hot.
Sunny, breezy, warm. Jacaranda trees casting dappled shadows on the pavement. Their lavender blossoms match my sexy low top. It is not lost on my lover. I am a colorful beautiful woman. Artistic in my atmosphere and environs. I wear skin tight jeans with a little bit of my g string sticking up. Just a hint. Just a taste. Black lace bra is a peek. I am totally aware of my sexuality and my powers of attraction. At the same time, I can't keep my eyes off his killer looks. I am infatuated and tell him so. His long dark silky shiny hair. Like a roman god. "You're so fine."
We ride his Harley to get lunch. We are so into each other. We make out in public. He caresses my ass in front of everyone. We are like a couple of horny teenagers. I haven't met a man in years and years that has made me feel like this. I tingle just thinking of him. When he takes off, he waves up at my window 4 stories up. Turns around on his Harley as he speeds off, and waves his leather clad biker glove. It amazes me that he knew I'd be looking out the window, watching him leave. He knew without looking up that I'd be gazing after him. Like Juliet aching soulfully after Romeo. Like a freakin' knight off to slay the dragon. It is how I see him as my hero, every time I come out of my apt. bldg. and see him leaning against his bike. Handsome from head to toe. Might as well be wearing a shiny metal armour. I have told all my friends this. I idealize him cuz I'm into him. I swear to God, I can see the plumes coming out of his helmet, and he's riding off on his steed.
I am so fucking esoteric all the time these days. I am into music so much. Like I hear it my head all the time. I jump around and dance and sing. I feel every beat. Every treble. Every warble ....... I am fucking soulful and creative. I dance and type and write lyrics God sends to me. I feel a little delusional but ultra aware but like cotton stuffed head full pot smoke. Freak show baby baby on the dance floor, a freak show. oooh oohh people come from everywhere and when the dance show begins they dance guy to guys and freaks to freak.. freak show baby baby on the dance how on the dance floor. oooh oooh shake ur body . move it.... ohah ohhha shake ur body. synthezixer. don;t stop dont go man all freaks frreak out. shake ur body shake ur body.............freak ur body.......... ohho hhoohhhs yeah it's a freak show.......1984-----The Bar Kays.....
I still stay stoned all the time. I feel guilt about our affair cuz I'm a good person, but at the same time, I would never give it up. I just want to feel loved so badly, I am starved for it.
It is wonderful to feel normal and fun and interesting and sensual. I am a closet Italian girl. I should have moved there years ago. I want to be artistic and mindful of the moment and feel my senses fully. Art lessons in Florence. Wine in Tuscany. Gondola in Venice. Forum in Rome. Vatican......Milan to see my rocker amico Franco... killer. Dream life.
Gotta get well. Gotta get over myself. Gotta try and get a little sober. Don't want to, but I feel sick and not well. I want to keep up with my new lover. I was sure I was alone, and now I have someone interested in seeing me. He said he was glad that I reconsidered seeing him. I had tried to stay away from him, but missed him too much. It is all or nothing with me sometimes.
Feast or famine. Raining cats and dogs, then drought. Cracks in desert floor. A small desert rose withering under blasting fiery sun. Crying out for just a tiny sip of water. That is me with love. I cry and beg the universe to send me love. I put it out to the universe. I said this to Paul the first time he came over to visit me, and he said "Well, it worked! Here I am!"