One Night Turned Into Three Nights

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*I should have posted this last night. 

Do you remember I said a while back, probably in one of my last relationships, about a moment in the early stages of a relationship when something just “clicks” into place? Like all of a sudden you’re no longer dating … you’re in a relationship. Things just “click” into place and you find yourself doing “normal” things together, rather than just the date-stuff you’d usually do to try and impress your potential new other half. Well, that moment happened in the last few days with my beautiful Bear. Because I’m starting to think that he might be truly something.

One night turned into two nights. Two nights turned into three nights. And that’s where we are right now. Night three. Thursday night. He’s laying on my bed watching Friends, and I’m sat to the side of him with my laptop on the top of his legs, tapping away. Not so that he can see obviously. He thinks I’m working.


Every now and then I sneak a cheeky peek at him. He laughs at Joey the most, in Friends I mean. I love watching him giggling to himself when he doesn’t think I’m paying him any attention. He’s really not quite the big gruff psycho he made himself out to be. I haven’t seen that side of him at all. Still.

The sides I have seen have been beautiful. He laughs a lot. We laugh a lot. He lets rip too, head thrown back, mouth wide open, a real deep gruff laugh that starts in his belly and gurgles its way to the surface. I love making him laugh, and I’ve found myself doing things that I’ve never done with other people just to see him laugh. The kind of things I would only do with Bestie – the man I’ve known and trusted for 15 years. (Well, until everything happened recently, but that’s a different story.)

I’m 100% myself around Bear. That’s it. That’s what happened. That’s what clicked between us. He made me feel comfortable, safe, totally at ease. The fact that we were in MY space just made it even easier. I danced around. I sung at the top of my very bad singing voice. I laughed with him at my camel toe in my new butt-lifting yoga pants instead of being totally embarrassed, and I sat there for three and a half hours while he let his artistic streak rip on my face. And no, I’m not talking about cum. (Although that did happen later on …)

He painted my face. He’s an artist, and a tattoo artist, so we bought some cheap Halloween makeup and he got creative. Amazing artwork aside (and he really is quite talented), it was insane. Totally nuts. How? Because it just was. I don’t know how to explain it. He was so close to me at times, and so focused on me – my face. I actually felt a sizzle. The chemistry between us was (is) undeniable, and now we can do it. Sex, I mean. He got the all-clear. So we did.

I was wearing sweat pants. Not just any sweat pants, but the ones I dye my hair in. If we were getting crazy with makeup and fake blood, I didn’t want to do it in my jeans. That’s my defence for wearing my skanky pants around him anyway. I was also sporting the white vest-top that I dye my hair in. See reasons above. Hair tied back, no makeup on (because he was just about to do it all for me), I was hardly at my sexiest. But there was something about it – us being that close for so long perhaps? Or the fact that we COULD have sex all of a sudden? Fuck, I need to tell you about his penis problem too …

I’m trying to put all my thoughts in a row here but there’s simply too many things I need to tell you. It’s hard work trying to put three days’ worth of hardcore relationship-evolution into one blog post. I’m going to need to break this down over a couple of blog posts. Not a bad thing considering we’re probably not going to see each other for a couple of weeks now. It’ll give me something to do. Or reminisce over? He’s moving and working, I have a ton of work coming up, his kids, life, you know? I’m going to miss him so much.

*Fast forward to the next day because I’m a bad blogger who can’t finish a post / we got frisky so it’s kinda allowed … 

He’s only been gone an hour and a half and I’m already pining. If Mother Nature hadn’t reared her ugly head, there’s a good chance he wouldn’t have been going home at all. I just felt it was a touch too soon to be introducing him to Auntie Flo and her ugly mood-swings. Even if he did (rather romantically) say that he’d “still do it anyway” because he “still can’t get enough” of me. Although to be fair, I did (rather romantically) tell him, “Hey, you gotta go home today. It’s bitch week and we’ll break up otherwise. It’s only for our safety though. You’re still my Bear!” 

Trust me when I say I have SO MUCH STUFF TO TELL YOU, but for right now I just need to flump around my house and sigh loudly for a while.

The good news is – there’s loads of good news.

The bad news is – there’s no bad news. Well, there’s no bad news yet. I don’t think? So that’s like a double helping of good news!

And yes, we did have sex. And it was fucking fabulous.


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