“So in your opinion, is it just a sexual connection between us?”

This is a question I posed about fifty seconds after a cosmic orgasm. “No. But, it’s the best part.” Sucker punch number one. It is the best part, but I was hoping that maybe almost two years of this just might possibly account for an appreciation of my other notable parts. I have a pretty good head on my shoulders. I’m funny af. But who am I kidding? It is the best part. It’s the greatest damn part of any part that I’ve ever experienced and I’m not ashamed to say it.

I’d walk around with a tee shirt that played our trysts on a repeat rolling reel for all to see as I marched down the street, if there were such a thing.

He makes me want to pull every curtain in my place wide open, windows too so that I can shout, DO Y’ALL SEE HOW AMAZING THIS SHIT IS?? I am just that into him. So much so it scares me. I have this odd balance of fear and freedom with him. I first envisioned it as a seesaw but I’m realizing more and more that it is a rope. A back and forth, a definite tug o’war. I know which end of the rope I’m holding, but I don’t know if it’s him or me grasping the other side. Enter the gray area. The land of ask no questions, tell no lies.

If you don’t know how much I absolutely adore my Mr. 51, stop reading now and unsubscribe. When he first entered my life approximately five hundred days ago, I was gone in his wind. I couldn’t wait to come on here and be all girly and smitten. He was different. He made me curious. He keeps me curious.

We are in a good space. This is what I tell myself. Until recently, I had no reason to believe otherwise. I guarded the pedestal that I put him on because he was exotic fruit to me and I had to protect it. He earned that spot in my life. He came and settled in when I was at the height of self-liberation. I wasn’t tying anyone down and wasn’t allowing anyone to rope me. With the ease of warm honey on a spoon, he slid into my life with little fanfare and no drama. He tamed a part of my wildness. I’m a wanderer by nature and he slowed my tracks. I entertained, but nothing serious. I put boundaries in place with him in mind. Everyone else was familiar to me. Nothing about him is anything that I’ve experienced and no one was worth sacrificing that.

No arguments. No tension. No void. No questions. No weird energy. I’m out of my comfort zone with him. I’m talking ashy feet, mix matched pjs and open heart. A closed flower responding to light. My heart, that is.

He knocked me off course recently though, and now I’m all up in arms emotionally. That gray area that resembles a pink elephant between us.

The other night, and we have lots of other nights now, we were chilling on my sofa. It was a good Friday night vibe. Rain, Chinese food and us. I always ease so deep into him. Legs in his lap, tangled in the way we do, me playing in his wavy hair, I thought to myself, “He has no idea that I was about to shut this whole shit down not even two hours ago.” And I was.

I quickly realized that this thing here was more than different. It was deep. Sexually, he is the one. Chemistry unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. We are equally open. We break all of the rules, I’m telling you Christian Grey ain’t got nothing on this man. No-thing.

I’ve meet other guys and share right off that there is a somebody and that I will not compromise my relationship with him. If that ain’t gone behavior, I don’t know what is. The comparison to Mr. 50 Shades of Grey really isn’t that much of a far-fetched contrast either. My Mr. 51 surpasses him in the bedroom, but in real life he has some illusive behaviors too.

When our sneaky link first started, he was guarded. I now appreciate his caution because it forced me to take my time too. I haven’t allowed myself to bypass any part of our progression. From a causal encounter, to friends, to lovers, to standing on the line of the next possibility. We are right there. That’s what I’ve told myself for the past year. But where exactly? That’s what I avoid asking.

As walls tumbled down, as I pulled away from others and fell deeper into him, I said he’s falling too so this is safe. I felt so confident in our groove, adored our mutual respect for freedom and felt so energized with confidence, that I forgot that I’m still human under all of that, and his ass is too.

He shared a text convo between him and another female, addressing some pretty heavy shit. He didn’t see it that way, most men wouldn’t. But as a prying, read-between-every-line woman, I didn’t miss any part of it. He sent it to me to get my opinion but it put me in a zone. A very pissy zone, I might add. And if he caught that I had an attitude, he didn’t give one clue because he was still his same laid back, unbothered self for the remainder of the conversation. I wanted to say look, you and old girl have some pretty thick shit going on so let me just go ahead about my business, but the thought alone made me feel like a hypocrite.

This man has respected my open dating status and not once has he ever given me an ultimatum. We know what we know about each other. But honestly speaking, I don’t share any extra details with him either.

No drama or static has presented itself with us. He had never rocked my boat. I didn’t want to rock his. So I really told myself that my emotions could handle anything, because he respected me enough to protect my feelings, if there were to ever be an anything.

But here’s the other part: I can’t disconnect from him. I sat on that sofa, caressing his face, kissing his jawline, feeling his hands massage my thighs and travel my body, knowing every line, dimple and pulse, to everything, and knew I had been bullshitting myself earlier.

I cannot. He has every part of me, except for commitment. And I won’t give that to him or anyone else until they prove that I’m worth the fight.

I’m always surprised at how people really believe that I’m this anti-relationship rebellious whore. Not at all. I’m waiting for someone to say be who you are and I love you more. I have enough of my own shadows. I’m not volunteering to stand in anyone else’s. If you see me, you see the light and love I have. And that’s what it is.

I find myself thinking about what’s next with him far too often than I’m comfortable with admitting. We see each other more frequently now and I never tire of him. It’s impossible. That’s how good the space is when he’s in it.

I’d go a million laps around the sun with him to feel it everyday. But, now I’m wondering just how many laps he’d really be willing to run with me.

2021 is bringing things to surface early. This is a year of mission. Freedom from all things that weigh us down seems to be the early theme. Is he weighing me down or lifting me? Am I blaming him because I’ve allowed my fear of hurt stop me from being all in? Am I being smart or hard?

I can’t answer any of that right now. But, I will.

One thought on “51 Shades of Grey

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