I could spend every moment of the day with him. We talk, laugh, share very personal things. I desire him in a sexual way. However, I don’t love him. The sum total of my emotions only add up to liking him. He is not for me and I’m not for him. He could never make me happy. He is emotionally unavailable and I lack any real emotion for him. He is a sort of placeholder in life. Maybe I serve the same purpose to him.
We are sexually incompatible yet we talk about sex quiet often. I tell him the things I want to do to him and tells me it will never happen. He likes women. He has described to me his sexual proclivities. I know his body although I’ve never seen him with out clothes. He has been freely open with me as I with him. It turns me on to know these intimate details of his sex life. When I suggest to him that I get off on the things he tells me; it’s a joke to him. This comfort level with this notion make me wonder if he is the one getting off.
He proclaims his macho heterosexual status but the signal he puts out seems crossed. At times, his speech can be very effeminate. His walk, his gestures all soft. He is sweet like cotton candy. I like cotton candy. He’ll deny his emotions but he clearly wears them on his sleeve. I like how he shows his concern for me. Its always masked under veiled machismo. I know he likes me and it is apparent that its more than he thinks he should. That makes me his little secret. That’s why I don’t love him and he is not for me.