Divine Timing, Gray Sweatpants, and the Art of Becoming Her
I’m not sure where I was going with this, but chills ran up my spine as I typed it.
The man in my life–the one who, with every coy glance and slow-burning kiss, sends tiny hairs standing up all over my body– came to mind.
I’ve known him most of my life.
Yet, to know him like this? To be the one that learns what makes his breath hitch, to hear the sound he makes right before he spills himself deep into me – fuck.
The level of closeness that we’ve allowed ourselves feels… intimate.
A kind of intimacy I never had before. And I’m not just talking about the physical—though, let’s be honest, I could live in our physical forever.
I’m emphasizing the adulation.
The way he moves.
The way he listens–even when he’s saying “HUH??” because I mumble.
His LAUGH!
This irresistible pull toward him has my whole body humming 24/7.
To touch him, to talk to him, tell him every insignificant detail of my boring day.
His presence, his smile, his kiss–his sweet, handsome face makes me want to both suffocate and kiss it for hours on end.
I prayed for someone who loves to make out just as much as I do. Someone who understands how hot a kiss can be–when pace, stroke, depth, sync perfectly.
That is magic.
Manifesting again?? Maybe.
I light my Boy Smells ‘Hinoki Fantôme’ candle and let the scent mix with his cologne as I write.
HG came back into my life at exactly the right time. Five years ago, I wouldn’t have been ready. I wasn’t secure enough to handle this much emotional voltage.
I would’ve self-sabotaged, scared him away, or tried to control the gray-sweatpants situation entirely.
Because if you think I would have let him leave the house with gray sweats – ehem… sir, you would be sadly mistaken.
But now? I’m at a point in my life where if I get my man hard on purpose in public, I’m okay with women envying what I’m fucking at home. I’m too old for jealousy. I know what I bring to our table, and I know he likes what he sees.
Thank the heavens for Divine Timing.
As much as some think manifesting and divine timing are bullshit, I say - TRY IT!
When you start believing in the unimaginable, when you live as your most authentic self, Divine Timing is there to guide you back to what’s meant for you, no matter how many wrong exits you’ve taken.
But, don’t think for a second you won’t have to work for it.
That’s been the hardest part–not the traumatic relationships, the teen-mom years, the over-drinking years, the agoraphobic years, the post-divorce chaos, COVID, or the rebound situationships.
It’s been the work I’ve done every single day to show up as my real self.
To speak what I want, not what I think someone wants to hear.
I used to quiet myself out of fear–anxiety so heavy it kept me in bed, wishing someone would save me.
But no one was coming.
I had to save myself.
And that meant dragging my lead-heavy legs out of bed, even on the days I thought I’d never make it to the bathroom.
Depression is a brutal mind-fuck. It’s crippling. But doing the work–owning my healing–brought me here.
Here is an emotionally available man who loves to kiss me.
A man who doesn’t pull away when I touch him, and who genuinely enjoys my cooking.
Who believes in, and more importantly supports, my wildest dreams.
SinceI finally showed up for myself, I attracted a person who shows up too. His effort mirrors mine. His presence matches my energy.
And as I watch him invest in us, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude.
I look at him and feel my whole past soften.
All the chaos, the heartbreak, the heavy legs in the dark rooms– it all led me here, to a man whose effort is undeniable.
I’m grateful.
Grateful because I no longer question whether I deserve it.
I do.
WE do.
Until Next time…
Come Close - A Sensual Poem
