It’s never the sex I miss the most. The sex fills a void, and brings life into sharp
It’s never the sex I miss the most. The sex fills a void, and brings life into sharp relief. It creates those transcendental, world shattering moments where you literally stop thinking for the first time in your fucking life, and are finally able to think clearly, to actually know what clarity means. It’s the time of our lives, truly, and it can get as kinky as all hell. The sex is good. The sex is great. But it’s never what I miss the most. It’s amazing, it really is, but it’s not what I feel most keenly when you’re gone, or when you’re not here yet. It’s not about me wanting to fill you with me, to be in you, and to enjoy that feeling more than anything I’ve hitherto experienced. It’s about all the other moments, the bits in between, the filler before the killer. It’s about cuddling in front of the television, and watching something god awful but laughing along to it anyway. It’s about cooking food together, or even alone, so long as we do the eating across from one another at the table. It’s about the time that we get lost in Covent Garden looking for that one Sushi place that you absolutely must watch me try. It’s those moments, the in betweeners, that matter the most. They’re the ones I miss most keenly, the ones I pine for. Because they’re the ones that form the relationship. That’s life, in the little things. Our sex is there too, but it’s too primal to properly give us the opportunity to breathe, and to breathe one another in. You fuck, and then you live. The sex is a pause on life, while the rest of the time you live it. -- source link
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