I have considered, now and again, over the last three months or so, what influence the familiarities of the past would have on the future (or, currently, the present). Over time, things become ingrained, elements of another body familiar enough to you to have become your own. Movement, taste, touch, smell, imprint. I was expecting some strangeness. Some divided perception; involuntary, unwelcome comparisons. Well. Let us back up. I wasn’t expecting that at all. And then there is that nanosecond of recognition of your own delusion and the realization: Of course this was going to happen. And you realize that you’re not the one in control. And for the first time in a very long time, that’s exactly what you want.

Funny how that didn’t happen – the strangeness. The exhumation of familiarity. There was simply nothing beyond him. At any point from the moment of arrival to wandering out into the near-dawn fog. Handy, I guess, to have a man smart enough to know when not to listen to you. (Or perhaps he was just indulging his own hedonism at my expense. I hardly care…) Intoxicating to have someone whose body speaks to you in absolutes. This is what I want. This is what I will have. A little unnerving when someone knows, without knowing you yet, what you crave. When what one wants meshes with what the other craves, it makes acquiescence seem inevitable in a way that can only bring a smile to your face and send your mind off into territory that felt almost dead for far too long, but that is where, you now realize, some of the most alive parts of yourself thrive.

Of course, there is a price to be paid. Certain appetites no longer in hibernation. Intermittent hyperfocus. Questions.

Patience has never been my strong suit.

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