We went to MoMA yesterday and it was hard. I followed him wordlessly. I couldn't tell if he was running from me or to paintings. He moved very quickly. He got itchy and wouldn't let me help him scratch it. I feel like he is so closed off. He made time, though, and afterwards thanked me. Later on I texted him that I'd been getting hard-ons all day thinking about how he looked. He reminded me that I had once, in anger, referred to him as an overweight, aging porn star. When I tried to explain the anger that caused those words there was no response. Most of the time now I feel like I'm talking to a wall.
I sent him this message first thing this morning:
"I hope that you had a great sleep last night after a wonderful day of productivity and inspiration. You are loved. You are a very special, SEXY, caring man with many wonderful talents. You are loved for those parts of you as well as for the parts you are working on improving. You are loved for everything you are, with no conditions. There is so much to love about you. There is so much to respect about you. While you continue to build an even more deep and meaningful life this love will be there for you, unceasingly. You never have to doubt it, you never have to fear losing it. You only need to accept it and be peaceful.
You know that there's nobody more sexy than you in the entire world. I love your face, with your angled brown eyes that crinkle when you laugh and your soft pink lips that smile so sweetly. I love your tongue and the way it feels in my mouth, licking my ass, or teasing my ear while you fuck me from behind. I love your ears, they are so cute and perfectly shaped. I love your hair, that delightful dark brown on top with the signs of maturity on the sides is incredibly sexy. I love that scar on the back of your head. I love your neck and how soft your skin is leading down into a hard muscular body. I love your chest, with all that sexy chest hair and soft pink nipples. I love your stomach and your tasty belly button. I love your ass, so round and firm and wonderful to bury my face in. I love your legs, with great calves and sexy knees. I love your feet, the way the skin is always soft and none of the toes are misshapen. I love your balls. I love how they hang and are so velvety and full. I love how you always shoot big loads of hot juicy cum. I love your dick. I love how long long it is and how it gets so hard. I love how smooth and how it curves up. I love how you use it. I love how you use your whole body. I wish you were using your whole body on me now. I'm dripping pre-cum from my morning wood while I think about all of the parts of your body.
This is the longest I have gone without sex since before I moved to NYC. I have had opportunities, and offers, but I do not want to have sex with anybody but you. I never did. Even when I thought I did, it was because I missed you, because I needed you, and I was so hopeless. Nobody compares to you. Nothing compares to you. There is only you. When I masturbate, I either stare at photos of you or close my eyes and imagine your body pressed up against me from behind. I think about all of those parts of your body that I love so much. I wish I had been a better lover for you. I wish I had been the best lover you ever had. All of this is meant to show you how sexy you are. All of this is meant to heal the wound I caused with stupid callous words.
I love you. I love everything about you. Clothed or naked, speaking or silent, sleeping or awake, I send you love with my whole heart. I am sending you love now. I am sending you soft lover's kisses and a man's strong hug. I know you may never again find me attractive or compliment-worthy, but for me there is only you. There is nobody but you. You rise above every other man in sexiness. You rise above every other man in talent. You rise above every other man in kindness. You rise above every other man in my esteem. If you took a picture of my heart's desires you would see yourself clearly, and you would never doubt how special you are. You would never doubt how wonderful you are. You would know that you are loved completely."
He responded by thanking me, telling me I should have sex with other people, and that he was going to be turning off his phone today to astral project. I need so much and all he is doing is allowing me to give. That's progress, but I'm damned impatient. I keep hinting that I need a compliment. He told me he feels ugly and I spent a lot of effort proving he wasn't. I don't tell him I feel ugly. I do, though. What he's not seeing is that I need him to be there for me, too. He won't. I wonder if he ever will.
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