Weeks. We haven’t talked. Emails not returned. Texts ignored. The silent treatment again. I get too close… Type Geek pushes back with greater force. My gut tells me it’s done. I have done all I could, said all I could, presented my best arguments for why YES, rather than why NO. Fear and shame are tricky things, and he has mountains of both.
I love that head of his though, the nose that twitches as he thinks of something, the pigeon sounds he makes when I kiss his back in the early morning hours and his tush, which is perfectly delectable and causes me to want to bite it every time I see it. In the marrow of my bones, I could grow old with him, but he can’t see me standing in front of him. How many more ways can you ask someone to try, when they can’t even hear you? We are supposed to “talk” soon. This week. We shall see how delightfully he words his Dear Jane speech.