Sent e-mail message
Dear Tease,
AH! but this is the POINT, my fuzzy wonder: it's NOT July 3rd!
And that's a GOOD thing! See all this ambivilance and self doubting and
second guessing and tidying and straightening (you should pardon the
expression) you're doing?
Do you think I'm not doing that, too, in my own context?
Them old timers were wise, creating a time of betrothal, engagement,
courtship.
Isn't it better to consciously perceive each other as potential, rather
than actual, lovers while we go through these growing pains? Isn't it
better that nobody makes sincere commitments to anybody while under the
influence of limerance? Isn't it better we just feel what we feel, know
what we know and learn what we learn while we keep each other in mind
for a future date when All Will Be Revealed?
If we joined bodies now, we'd have that Sexuality to look at, to
distract ourselves with, to commit to (rather than to our individual and
collective processes and projects). And sexuality is powerful stuff;
it's easy to lose one's way, if one doesn't have good navigational
tools.
Neither of us was provided these navigational tools. We've had to learn
them and build them for ourselves as we went. Both of us have spent a
lot of energy on dog paddling, just to avoid drowning. And neither of us
wants to just float without direction.
So, here we are, building a vessel to carry us. We're charting the
stars, guaging the currents, testing the winds.
We're learning synchronized rowing. I figured that out the other night
when I walked you back and we had our arms around each other. Your legs
come up to my chin, yet we kept pace gracefully. I found it most
satisfying.
We're preparing for what looks like a very long journey of exploration
to uncharted waters and exotic destinations.
You can't do that in a rubber dingy with a bucket of fried chicken.
We're stocking provisions. We're lashing sails. We're testing the
riggings. We're providing for our journey.
The fact that you can say you wish it were July 3rd makes me hopeful for
what I want: a sexual partnership with you. But I'm not counting on
that. I'm not expecting that. I'm not planning on that.
Even though I absolutely know how I want to first kiss you. Even though
I know how I'd like to first lay with you.
It's one of the provisions I'm packing for the journey, in case we find
we need it.
But, if rough seas and pirate attacks find us in peril, it's one of the
first things I'll throw overboard: it takes up a lot of room and it's a
lot of weight.
So, we're still at the docks, polishing brass and reading maps that say,
"here, there be seamonsters." Nobody can tell us where we're going,
because few have travelled so far. I fear many of those perished in the
attempt. Fewer still, I suspect, have bothered to even try to return to
tell their adventures; I think it must be too beautiful out there to
leave.
A year is a good amount of time to prepare to set sail.
And we're learning how to work as a crew.
So, by the time we're out there in our tiny boat on that big ocean under
that bigger sky, we can depend on each other in healthy ways. And we've
increased dramatically our odds of survival. We have no idea what's out
there; we're going to need to trust each other in a storm.
You can't call 911 from where we're going; we'll need to rescue
ourselves.
The fact that you sometimes wish it was already July 3rd means July 3rd
might turn out to be a hell of a party.
We only have eleven months and a few days left to wait. And that's not
much time, for an adventure like ours. We need to be ship shape.
