I Want You to Want Me.

I need you to need me. I’d love you to love me. I’m begging you to beg me.

I wanted to say something deep about love, because I’ve been reading stuff about it in the blogs I haunt and, hey, I wanted to join in, but I feel like it’s all been said more clearly, more poetically, more philosophically and even more cynically than I can say it. I’ve tried to think of some new twist I can use to pin a definition once and for all on this crazy thing we call love, but none come to mind. Or maybe I just don’t care. Nah, that can’t be it. We’re all looking for love, aren’t we? Certainly they are in books and movies, and finding it, too, although it don’t always come easy, even for the ruggedly handsome and the terminally pretty.

So maybe I do care. You know, about love. Just not about defining love. It’s a powerful force, I won’t argue, but when you get all over it and try to explain it, maybe it’s possible to break it, or spoil it or something. If you could define it, maybe the familiarity would breed contempt. Wouldn’t want that. Anyway, I’m not an expert, but I think I know how it feels, and that’s good enough for me.

Not an expert? Get a load of this: It turns out that the greatest love of my life didn’t know I had the hots for her for three years. How stupid was I? What the hell was I thinking? Did I expect her to send me an engraved invitation?

You are cordially invited to put your arms around me
at your earliest convenience,
to slide your hands under my waistband in the back,
to caress my butt and reach down slowly
along the crack of my ass
until you can feel the wet between my legs.
A reception will be held between those legs
immediately following the deep soul-kissing,
the hot breath on my neck,
the biting of my nipples,
the licking of my belly
and the sensuous, deep tonguing of my pussy.
Festivities will include
cunt licking,
hard pumping,
laughing and crying.

Not approaching her at a party could be put down to shyness. Letting it go on for three years — well, somebody must have been one taco short of a combination plate. Luckily the curse was removed, finally, when I got her into my apartment one night, made charming conversation for, oh, I don’t know, way too long, and finally led her to the bedroom. To my surprise, she came along readily, and I had my way with her for what was left of that holy night.Must have been love.
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15 Replies to “I Want You to Want Me.”

  1. Whew! What a relief to know that you finally got there.

    I love men who freely use the word “cunt” properly.

    Hey, can I borrow your invitation? I know a printer in town who will give me a super-sweet discount on large quantity orders. Would you go with embossed or regular print?

  2. Uncle Larry sez:
    Take the invitation. Print as many of them as you can afford. Give them to every woman you know. Make sure they issue them early and often. This would be an important pubic service.
    If I were sending one out, I’d add “RSVP. Like, RIGHT NOW!”
    Embossed is nice, unless you can get more of them in regular print…

  3. L_
    You seem to have no idea how badly we want you, and how difficult it is to read you, and how fearful we can be. Don’t “pass out” invitations like these to fifty strangers, but if you’ve known someone for a while (you decide how long), and he’s moving a little slow, and you like what it says in the invite, give it a try.
    Or send one to me…

  4. Knowing how long “A while” should be and how to get the point across once that time has passed can sometimes be a challenge. I usually know within the first 10 to 20 minutes if I want to shag a guy. After that, its a matter of waiting to figure out whether the feeling is mutual, or if he’s going to blow the deal by saying something stupid.

  5. Theresa — Thank you for that thoughtful comment, which significantly raises the maturity level of my post. The subtext of that post was my realization that I really waited too long, trying waaay too carefully to make sure that conditions were right before I tried anything. I should have gone for it, and if I could do it over I would have. She might have shot me down, but now I see –that’s life and love.

    Kung Pow Pigâ„¢ — More maturity. But thanks!

  6. Larry – 1st, I need to print this screen because I’m pretty sure this is the first time the word “mature” has been used in reference to me without the prefix “im”. Well, I suppose, I’m getting to the age when polite society uses the word “Mature Woman” instead of “Old Broad”. However, I think you meant it in a nice way. Thank you very much.

    2nd – You should give yourself some credit. In your romantic scenario, YOU were the brave one who actually made the first move, afterall. And, despite your cautiousness, you were very persistent. You also kept her attention without saying something so stupid that it completely turned her off.

  7. Thank you AGAIN, Theresa. And far be it from me to suggest anyone is old. I think I am the oldest person blogging. Chronologically, that is.
    But I can’t give myself much credit for making the first move. The 21st Century Jones spits in the general direction of such timidity. I have no time to waste. I didn’t then, either, but I thought I did.
    And I often say stupid things, but in such a charming way that you like me anyway. Or pity me, I’m not sure.

  8. How familiar I am with the chilling moment of awareness, when my foot has once again become firmly lodged in my mouth.

    Somehow I also still have friends. Perhaps this is why I continue to believe that humans are essentially good, despite an abundance of global data supporting a contrasting notion.

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