Hoo boy!

I look back at what I've written and can't help but think, What the hell was all that clap-trap about my younger man??? We didn't talk again after he returned home, which was fine. It was really telling to me that my favorite part of the whole week was dropping him off at the airport (in the wet and cold), then going back home to crawl in between the nice warm sheets and falling back to sleep.

Don't get me wrong. He's a nice guy and quite attractive, but I guess I just prefer poets and writers to fighters. I prefer my guys to show me they have souls. It's a little thing. Give me a good intellectual discussion on politics, religion, the economy or life in general. Share with me what's going on in your world and listen as I share mine with you. Show me your heart, and thank you for fostering an atmosphere that lets me trust you enough to show you mine.

A kiss (soft kisses, hard I-need-you-now kisses, brief kisses hello, kisses that go on forever, or all of the above), a compliment, a sexy voice (whether deep and Southern or deep and Northern), humor that still makes me laugh when I think of it three years later (flatulent warthog from the Dark Side) and humor from more recently ($20 words and a wildly fun piano bar). And a good ol' boy's ability to shoot a gun, with the soul that'd hurt if he had to hurt or kill someone in doing his duty.