the life and musings of a kinky slut

How Will I Meet You?

Will you be a fellow classmate, concentrated on learning, career oriented, yet we make a connection that lasts beyond school?

Will we pass each other at an event, a play party?  Maybe a happy hour or a munch?  Will we get to talking, flirting, and then our lives grow from there?

Will it be random?  A Metro ride?  A work encounter?  The grocery store?

As I drove back from Atlanta this past Sunday, I was sad.  This happens at the end of all my adventures.  Once it is all over, I have to actively pull myself away from a place of caring and acceptance of who I am.

But, during my car ride, I realized another truth.  Part of the reason it hurt so bad to leave Atlanta was because I wasn’t going home to someone.

No one warms my bed at night.  I don’t have a lap to curl into, a person who listens to me bitch about my day.  I don’t have a cheerleader, a co-conspirator, a life partner.

As I drove, staying awake through six hundred miles of road, I screamed out my frustration.

I want to meet my husband.  I want to have him in my life.  I want the arms to fall into, the breath on my neck, the eyes I call home.

So when is it going to happen, life?  Have I already met him?  Maybe someone I haven’t noticed yet?

When will I meet my husband?  When will we start our lives together?  Because this waiting shit sucks.

Categorised as: Emotional | Random

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