Quédate...

Te pedí que te quedaras, para que las lagrimas no pudiesen llegar.

It's the little things that matter.

It's the little things, a gentle touch, a calm kiss, him just grabbing your hand and holding it, and don't get me started on the cuddling... those small details are the ones that really, really let you know... how much in love you really are. For me, holding hands can, and has had as much, effect on my emotions as a kiss. I'm a romantic, can't help myself.

Remember the chocolate guy ? It all started because he didn't mind holding my hand in public. It may sound (it totally is) pathetic, but living in a small town has had it's effects, and finding a guy willing to hold my hand while walking in a park, a hell of a highlight in my life. A straight guy, small detail I didn't want to understand until he started dating a really good girl-friend of mine.

People have always told me that I'm a really loud fag, and that I don't care about what other "normal" people think. Which is totally true, I don't give a flying fuck what people think about who I am as a sexual being; but that doesn't mean I'm having hot-n-steamy gay sex in public, (not that I wouldn't want some hot-n-steamy gay sex, mind you) it means that if I want to hold hands with the guy I love, I will freaking do it no matter who is watching. That's all I ask, you know? I don't find it fair that every time I go out I see at least 2 or 3 straight couples almost having sex in a park (in broad daylight, no less), but two guys holding hands ? NO FREAKING WAY, the outrage! The shame!

WTF?

Being side-tracked, and not in the good way.

Note: This took place over a year ago.
He was almost leaving, he already had his seatbelt on, his door open, I was just outside, my mind made up - It's today, I'm going to tell him right now! - and the moment I was about to say it... he offered me a piece of chocolate.

I was completely side-tracked, without knowing what else to do, I accepted. So he took my hand, and gave me a small piece. I couldn't do anything else.

Fag: *hugs* I... I... (have a freaking chocolate in my freaking hand ! God dammit) I... just leave ! BYE !

I was already inside my house before he was even gone.

Stupid chocolate, disappeared a moment after.

So THAT is what it takes...

It's in situations like this that I know why I love my friends.

Me on the phone with one of my besties:

Fag: I... I went to the mall yesterday... and I bought something...
Her: ... what?
Fag: A... white hemp belt.
Her: OMG, you know what that means? You are officially out of the closet!

Like I said, I love my friends.

I'm a cuddler.

I'm a cuddler, and if there's one thing I love to do with the people I like is cuddling, with my boyfriends and best friends is no exception.

Except that... I don't have a boyfriend to cuddle with, that the only real friend I have left that would help, can't. And that the person I really, really, want (need) to cuddle with... hasn't talked to me in over a month.

But I need the cuddling, the warmth it gives... I needed it so much that I did the last thing I thought I'd ever do for it.

I called an ex.

Not just any ex, my first official boyfriend. The one who broke it off because I didn't want to have sex with. The one who's only real attribute (besides his really gorgeous ass) was that he liked me. No chemistry, no real connection, just him wanting to be sexually intimate with me and me wanting to be with him emotionally. Neither of us got what we wanted.

Last week, almost two years after we had broken up, He logged on and we chatted a bit, he told me he was back in town for the rest of the month. "How about you, coming over to my place?" he said.

And I, against all the warning signs popping in my head, accepted.

....

Fast-forward >> I'm at his place, he's taking a shower... and I feel like shit.

Just because I needed someone to cuddle.