I recently added a section under “Recent Experiences” on my blog for all of my posts which mention Mr. Casual Friday; in making these changes, I re-read all of these posts. I think about MCF every day, without exception. As I’ve described, I find myself seeking him out when I’m struggling. What I perhaps haven’t yet mentioned is how I also seek him out when I’m happy, excited, have good news and even when there’s absolutely nothing going on good, bad or otherwise. There’s this pull I feel so strongly I have to physically fight it to keep myself from going to him in all of these situations. When I’m happy, I want to share it with him; when I’m struggling, I want to lean on him; when things are calm and I have nothing of importance to say at all, in MCF’s presence is where I want to be.
Having re-read all of my posts in which he is featured, through good times and bad, I’ve been recalling all the the moments I haven’t recorded in writing. Yesterday when I shared my revised mission statement with MCF, the first thing he said in response was “It makes the reader think you are talking about your personal life.” This makes sense as the second draft was created with the focus on being personally meaningful to me rather than being written for an audience. Still, the shock of realizing that he understands at least somewhat how intimate sharing this information is for me was unexpected…I had to consciously remind myself to breathe after he said this.
When I described my masturbation epiphany about MCF, I thought I had it all figured out; that I’d finally managed to wrangle some type of sense out of our relationship. Boy was I off! What occurred to me late last night, somewhere between wakefulness and the land of dreams, is that the reason I want so viscerally to submit to MCF, the reason I would cut off my right arm just for the chance to be his friend, the reason it is physically difficult for me to force myself not to spend every possible moment in his presence, is both simple and embarrassingly obvious: I’m in love with him.
Of course I want to bare my soul to him; of course I want desperately to tell him everything about me, to answer all of his questions openly, honestly and fully; of course I fiercely desire to submit to him. I am in love with MCF. I don’t know that this realization will be in any way helpful; however, I find I hope it might assist me in controlling myself now that I am aware of exactly what I am fighting which is so seemingly impossible to overcome. Perhaps imagining him laying beside me with his arms around me when I’m having trouble falling asleep should’ve clued me in! I’m not sure what this means – if, in fact, it even means anything at all. What I do know is his presence is always there, in the back of my mind. I’m constantly thinking about telling him this or that, contriving excuses to see him, feeling my pulse race and a blush spread as that tightly wound inner core of me loosens and sighs in relief when I merely lay eyes on him. This is so much more than sexual attraction, a crush or even an inappropriate phase; so much more than any of the many ways in which I’ve tried to write off these all-consuming feelings for MCF. This. Is. LOVE. Wish me luck!