My Turn

Adonis is a Greek God who makes the hearts of young girls flutter. He even taught me the philipino word for Beautiful. He called me Mugunda for a week before he told me what it ment.

Bryon “Adonis” texted me a few days ago. He was wondering if I'd like to hang out this Friday night. Amazingly enough I don’t have work this Friday night so I consented. However while at the institute with McGee I saw him. We had a nice chat and I got to tell him all about a new computer that I’ll be getting soon (he is a computer geek). He then told me the reason why he wanted to “hangout” this weekend….He has been planning for a week how to let me down easy.

“So. Gc. The reason I wanted to hang out with you was to tell you that I don’t think we would ever work out.”

Ouch! Burned. Singed. (Please understand that this is the first ever time I have been rejected and it hurts worse than I thought it would) At least he was nice about it. There are many worse ways to smear someone. He even told me that I was a good friend. Thanks bud that helps a lot! J/K. I could probably still be friends, but it is going to take awhile for me to come around. I just don’t understand. It’s not like there’s another girl is there?

I am not sure why but I have decided to include this tribute that I wrote a few months ago:

I love the simplicity of him. His pure honesty. His genuineness and his innocence. How lucky am I to be here right now. The cold outside bites, but I am here all cozy warm. I love this feeling- whatever it is I do not know, but I love it so. The comfort, the perfect-ness. The relaxed feeling I get when I am with him. I was once afraid to reach this point, but now that I am here I couldn’t be more happy. A huge leather LoveSac holds us while we hold each other. Our hands seem to melt so perfectly together, so naturally like I was meant to be lying here next to this sweetest sleeping man in all the world. His chest moves heavy and slowly. His breath warms my cheek. My hair tangles with his as his head rests on mine. My arm beneath his strong bicep, my other lies across his chest. My left hand lays peacefully interlocked with his strong, yet gentle one. My other on his elbow and his on mine.

I want to memorize this. This pose, his smell, this feeling, this moment. So simple, so sweet. Like warm chocolate oatmeal cookies. Like cool, fresh apple juice from a thick oct-tangular glass. I softly kiss his forehead. It’s my little secret, he will never know. I wish I could enter his thoughts as he lies here dreaming. The muscles in his hand shudder a bit as he sinks deeper into sleep. His breathing slows and becomes deeper. I am so comfy, so calm, like there isn’t a care in the world. But there are cares. He has work early tomorrow morning and I am robbing him. As I am laying here composing I am making his next day more tough. Yes he is sleeping now, but he needs to climb in bed and go to sleep for real. And I must return home. Though I haven’t any reason except his. I must not be jealous. No matter how much I like this moment, it must end. For him. Oh how I wish I didn’t have to wake him. He is so peaceful and cute lying here beside me, holding me so warm. I slowly move my right hand to his shoulder and softly stroke his chin. One last deep breath and he opens his eyes and smiles at me. With those big brown eyes of his that melt me to the core. We untangle and he takes my hand as we walk to my car. I give him a hug and linger, holding him a little longer. Goodnights, sleep wells and then I hop into my chilly car, awaiting the next time I can lie awake next to him all wrapped up in his arms….