I am so proud of myself. So So proud of myself. Five gold stars and a little trophy for me! I did it. I shared a part of myself! My truth with a man I care deeply about. Now, maybe for some this is no big deal. After all, I am a grown ass woman. But still… that little girl lives in me. The one that promised herself at 11 years old she would never feel as bad as she did the night she said goodbye to her Dad. The night she stood in the drive way and watched him drive away. The night she knew he would not return to their home. The night she zipped up a huge part of her heart.

God it was fun reading my story to Mike.

“I’ve gotten chubby” Mike said as he slapped his belly.

We were standing in his bedroom. Mike was on the left side of the bed and I was on the right. He was naked. Just the way I like him. Handsome. Rugged. Think Burt Reynolds (Cosmo centerfold 1972 for reference) mixed with modern day George Clooney. Throw some Andy Garcia swag in the mix, add a cuddly Bear and we have a Mike!

His salt and pepper hair, more pepper than salt was longer than normal but freshly cut. It matched his neatly trimmed beard and mustache. I figured he was in divorce court the day before, hence the hair cut.

I wore a black top and white shorts. My legs smooth and tan from my recent stay in Hawaii. I didn’t see much chub on Mike. Okay, Maybe a few extra pounds, but it didn’t matter to me. All I saw in front of me was sexy Mike. Plus, if you did a line up of my past boyfriends, that would confirm my attraction to a little chub.

Like Mike, the bedroom is classic yet modern. Vaulted ceilings and high windows that show the tall maple trees outside his window. The temperature was cool and crisp, just the way I like it. The lighting soft and dim, but not too dim.

I noticed a bottle cap on the oak floor not far from Mike’s senior dog Desi, a Papilion (French for Butterfly ears). Desi slept on his doggy bed in the corner of the room and I could hear the slightest snore coming from Desi.

“It’s time to tuck you in and read you a story” I said.

Mike jumped into bed, laid on his back, and pulled the cool crisp sheets past his belly but below his foxy BR chest (BR standing for Burt Reynolds.) He laid his head on the fluffy pillow, smiled and said “I’m ready.”

I climbed onto the bed and sat on my knees next to him. I held my phone and scrolled through my blog. The blog he’s never seen, the blog only my closet friends know about, the blog that tells my truth, the blog that sets me free.

I replied “Hmmmmmmmm which one should I read you?” “It’s a date,” “Oh my Mikey,” “Coyote Chronicles” Oh! Here is the one I’ll read you. “Coyote Chronicles… The Beginning.” Of course that’s the one I already knew I’d read to him.

I began reading my story to Mike. My non-fiction story. My story that he had a starring role in, my story that compared me to my rescue dog Dixie who had been abandoned and craved love as much as she feared it. My story that is a vulnerable sandwich wrapped up in humor and the truth.

We were in the moment. There was no past, no “I should haves” no future or “Should I” It was just me and Mikey in the moment. The present. He paid attention to my every word. Similar to a child hearing “Little Red Riding Hood” for the first time.

Mike started laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing. He’d slap his hands on the bed, his laugh would turn into a cough, he’d roll to his side, get his composure and roll back. I’d pause, waiting for him to pull it together, and then continue where I left off, Then he would laugh some more, it would turn into a cough, he’d roll to his side, get it together and I’d resume the story. Like a little dance. Laugh, cough, roll.

To watch him laugh filled me up! My story that explained why I would have to leave his home when we were getting to know each other. The one that explained why I would freeze. The one where I referred to my fear being larger than my fire for him, and that fire is an inferno.

I finished the story with a “The End.”

“Oh, I haven’t laughed that hard in years” Mike said

“You read that to your class?”

“Did the ladies panties get wet?

“I was so naughty. Your writing is scintilating, you make people want to listen. Sensuous.”

“Can I have a copy?”

“Can you read me another?”

I responded:

“One at a time. With each tuck in I will read you a story.”

Mike replied” Then come scooch Dixie style next to me and give me a kiss.”

With that I leaned over and pressed my lips to his…

The End