Warrior

I’ve been nervous to write this post.

Afraid that it’s all been the best dream.

That putting it down in type would force me to wake up.

But it’s starting to sink in now.

This is real.

It’s not like what I’ve felt before with poly connections.

It’s not intense fear of falling in love, and when it inevitably happens they run.

It’s also not love bombs and lies and promises they never intend to keep.

It’s here to stay.

He’s here to stay.

I can’t bear to use a number for him, he’s so much more than that.

I think I’ll call him my warrior.

Because that’s what he is to me.

He’s so different than anyone I’ve ever been with.

He’s a fighter.

He’s also a lover.

On the surface he’s gruff and grumpy and hardened from everything life has thrown in his path.

Underneath he’s soft and nurturing and so generous.

He’s old fashioned, in the most endearing way.

He loves watches and newsboy caps and opens every door for me.

He holds me, all of me.

Both physically and emotionally.

When we fuck he picks me up like I’m light as a feather, even though I am most certainly not.

And when I feel scared or overwhelmed, he holds me in that too.

I’m never too much.

I never feel like I have to hold back.

He’s strong enough to handle my depth, and even seems to love it.

He’s so strong.

It takes my breath away honestly, the truth of his strength.

It’s not performative.

It’s just who he is.

It just exudes from his pores, this protective energy.

And when his arms wrap around me I’ve never felt so safe.

Our chemistry is unreal.

Before we met I think I already knew.

But when I saw him for the first time, it solidified in me like a promise.

My heart would love him.

We walked toward each other and I practically fell into him.

We hugged for so long.

I couldn’t let go, it felt so crazy good to be close to him like that.

He took my hand and led me into the restaurant, and I felt so special.

We got in line to order our food and couldn’t stop just gazing at each other.

We started kissing, touching, caressing.

I looked at the long line ahead of us, and the crowded tables around us.

We could just go back to your house, I said.

I couldn’t believe my ears!

Who the fuck was I?

But I’ve never desired someone the way I desire him.

It’s like a craving, a hunger, a need.

So we left.

When I got to his house he was waiting outside for me.

And every time since he’s been waiting for me, just to make sure I get in safe.

When we got inside it was such a blur.

I felt consumed by his presence near me and couldn’t keep my hands off of his body.

He’s tall.

Built like a builder, and he is.

I love that he works with his hands.

Oh my god his hands!

They’re huge, and somehow so strong and so tender all once.

When he touched me I just melted.

I can’t express the kind of passion I felt that first night.

And every night since.

The wanting.

The needing.

It was exhilarating yet safe.

He is both.

I met a new part of me in bed with him.

It’s like she’d been there all along, just waiting to be unlocked.

And he is the key.

I’d been hoping, searching, longing for something on this journey.

Never knowing exactly what it was, but promising myself I’d be brave and patient and keep my faith.

It was blurry, mysterious, unknown.

Yet I held my heart open, trusting I’d recognize it when it appeared.

When I look into his eyes…

I know I’ve found it.

When I look into my own eyes after I’ve been with him…

I know I’ve found me.