~Thursday, January 27, 2011
~Wednesday, January 26, 2011
~Tuesday, January 25, 2011
~Monday, January 24, 2011
~Saturday, January 22, 2011
~Friday, January 21, 2011
~Thursday, January 20, 2011
Want to read about me from someone else's perspective?
Lanie in the City
Love, Sarah at 4:08 PM|
~Wednesday, January 19, 2011
~Tuesday, January 18, 2011
~Monday, January 17, 2011
~Friday, January 14, 2011
I smell of Valdosta.
He has a sweet smell, sweeter than mine. I remember the first time I noticed it, I was in my closet folding clothes and I picked up my gray alma mater t-shirt I had worn to sleep in at his place. I couldn't place the scent originally. Later that day, I pulled my coat out of my front closet and put it on. As I zipped it up, the same sweet scent wafted around me and it hit me that it was him.
I spent last night at his place. We ordered Chinese, drank a bottle of wine and watched that Spartacus show on Starz. I watched the main actor, looking for tell-tale signs of lymphoma, which is the reason he's leaving the show. Valdosta leaned towards me, "That's what I'm going to look like by my 30th birthday."
I chuckled. "I'll look better." I've been quietly going to the gym. Nothing motivates me more than a little competition. Unfortunately, the competition is entirely one-sided. Valdosta's New Year's resolution was to get into shape and I knew I had to follow.
"I can tell, " he said. "You look good." He patted my knee, "Time for bed, baby."
While the city was snowed in, Val utilized his time to decorate his bedroom. His diploma now hung on the wall. So did a gold-framed mirror and an M.C. Escher print. I had left a hair clip on his bedside table a week and a half earlier, and I saw it in its same place. I know him now, and I know when I'm not there, he sleeps with a body pillow. I untangled his sheets and saw the pillow inside the bed. I remade the bed and shivered as I crawled in.
He crawled in behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "I missed this," he whispered. "Cuddling with you." He brushed my hair off my neck and kissed the nape up to the tips of my ears. He squeezed me tight.
"I'm used to sleeping with you now," I whispered back. It's true. I miss his shoulder when I'm sleeping alone. "Are you used to sleeping with me yet?"
"I'm getting there," he said.
He's getting there.
And now I'm sitting at my desk at work and I smell of him. This morning I went home and changed clothes, but I didn't shower, so his smell must be in my hair. I like that I smell of him.
This is why I wrote at the very beginning that I'm toast.