What I Need
His answer is wonderfully succinct. The simplicity of it takes my breath away. I have asked him what it is he wants, why he is texting me again.
You. He responds. All of you. The whole shabang. Conversation, ass, sweet pussy. All.
Text can sometimes be a beautiful thing. I want to hold this text forever, like a trophy. Like a balm for my agitated soul. I read it 10 times before I sigh and press delete. I eat some chocolate and go back to work.
When my partner and I first discussed giving me the option of an open marriage we both knew it was only partly about the sex. That it was just as much about the words that come with it that I missed in a way that I couldn't recover. His lack of sexual need coupled with an inability to express what exists in a meaningful way through words and touch was what was crippling me. I know that this gift is his own way of trying to shape to my need, as he has watched me do for him for so long.
That I continue to find men that don't meet this need is not terribly surprising. It was not like this one decision was going to change a lifetime of me collecting broken, lonely, and uncommunicative men like stray puppies. Clearly there is also some sort of need in me for this. In fact, I think my biggest lesson has been not to assume my own needs won't run counter to each other. It is unlikely we can ever get all our needs met in one place. It's a great fallacy of our time. Ultimately I know that part of the error is looking to others to meet our needs at all.
The man I did pick to help meet my needs does so much very well. I have actually said he is efficient in getting me off, which I appreciate, I'm a busy girl... but when I read that text I know why it is I can't seem to settle in this place. I know there is a language missing, that I don't just want, I desperately need, and that without it I will keep searching in places I should not be.
I pick up the phone again. I find his number. My texts are simple now too.
When?