I know I should be working right now, I know I have deadlines that are already passed, I know I’ll be in big trouble if I’m caught doing anything on my computer other than what I should be doing. But I have to send you this quick email because you understand and you won’t judge me and I need to tell someone.
It’s just so much stronger than me.
I spent all yesterday evening talking to him. Well, not really talking, but chatting online. Oh, I wish I had the nerve to suggest we chat by phone. Or Skype. Oh, yes! Then I could see his eyes again. In my mind, every day, I try desperately to recall those eyes. The eyes I saw just that one time, in real life, so many months ago. The way he looked at me. Something about his stare was incredible. He seemed to be laughing at me, as if he knew full well I’d find him impossible to resist, that we’d talk innocently for weeks, probably months, but eventually, he would have me.
Yeah, right! I know I’m reading far, far too much into it. Eyes cannot say that much. Or, maybe they can, but I doubt his were. At least not to me. Why would he find me interesting? We’re not even into the same things, as far as I can tell.
But I can’t stop thinking about him. I say his name in my head over and over again throughout the day when I should be concentrating on other things. He has invaded me. Does he know that he already has me? Our conversations are pleasantly friendly, almost professional, very polite. But if he knocked on my door right now we’d be having sex ten minutes later. At least if he let me, we would.I should just log off. I really should simply shut down Facebook and Twitter and stop staring at his profile pic as though it were a photo he’d sent me personally. But it feels so good to be sort of connected to him, even if he’s not there. Do you know what I mean? Just having the tab open, with the possibility that at any moment he could log on and want to chat. I can’t give that up.
Ah, but when we chat it’s a sweet torture. Sometimes he’s a little more friendly than usual, even a teeny bit flirtatious. Those times I savor and, although I’d never admit this to anyone else, I roll a little back and forth on the exercise ball I use as a desk chair ever since I did my back in last year. That feels so wonderful. So very, very wonderful.
But then, just when I think that maybe things are going somewhere, the smilies and exclamation marks disappear and he ends the conversation with a, “Well, have to go now. Chat again some other time. Bye.” And I’m left staring at my computer screen, re-reading the whole conversation, trying to figure out if I said something offensive, boring or stupid.
Shit. I have to go. I’ll write again soon and who knows, maybe I’ll have something more than just dreamy drizzle to tell you! You never know! Should I be a little more flirtatious and daring with him, do you think? What would you do? I’d just be so embarrassed if he wasn’t interested. Or worse – if he stopped chatting with me! But I suppose at least then I’d know…
Well, bye for now, chat soon,