Thursday, July 03, 2003

How To Become An Alpha Male In 18 Easy Lessons: Lesson 17: Love Letter To An Alpha Male

I love you. There -- it's so simple -- easy to say, hard to say, must be said. I'm watching you. From close up, sometimes from far away and I love what I see. You make me grin, secretly, I dare not say how much. Much too much.

In the morning, I love to pretend to be asleep when you have to leave early and I steal a peek at your bare butt heading towards the bathroom. I like to hear the rittley-rattley noise of your showering, your shaving, your general banging and bumping about. You think you're quiet -- you're not -- but it makes me laugh. If I do the same to you, getting up at the crack of dawn and make the slightest noise, you're a grouchy bear, or worse (and better) you take your furry paw stealthily, out of the covers, I never see it coming, as I tiptoe by, seconds from making it out the door -- all dressed, hair done, make-up done -- you grab me, strongarm me right around the waist back into bed, bottoms up, high heels flying, me protesting weakly, all my morning clean-up efforts for naught as you kiss away fake blush and lipstick, leaving real blushing and sexy wet lips in their place. Where the hell did you get that strong body, it surely makes me swoon. We make a battlefield of the bed, my ironed blouse, my smooth skirt, soon a wrinkly pile. You love to make me late.

We pretend it's easy to part. We go off. You have projects. I have things to do. Things to get. People to see. We think we'll talk at day's end, but hardly. We are thirsty for one another within the hour -- but hate to admit, so resist the urge to call. Within two hours there's something I just have to tell you -- something I read, something someone said -- I have to share it. Can't wait to hear what you think. And you, there's that thing you had to tell me, something silly or something serious, but it can't wait until later. People out in public overhear our chatter and they know -- all the while, we pretend there's nothing to it.

There's some strange arithmetic to you, alpha male. Two plus two doesn't necessarily add up. You do the most unexpected, risky, crazy things and they work. You have nerve. You are nuts. You have balls. Bottom line, I like it. I don't even know why. Sometimes I wish I didn't, it would be easier. I could run away. I could escape if I didn't like you so damned much. But I always come back for more.

Evening stirs me ... no matter how miffed you might have made me during the day ... I will turn to see the sunset, my skin fitting just right, my hips remembering you, I sigh and smile to see evening coming. Twilight and I know the warriors must put down their weapons, erect their tents. There is a table for food -- I want to fill it for you. There are candles -- I bend down to light them. I let my hair down, slip off shoes, pad around on the cool floor feet naked. I had a notion to tell you how wrong you were about something in the hot light of mid-day, but it's gone, blown away now by the same evening breeze that lifts the hem of my skirt. I yield to the mystery of the night. Reminds me of the mystery of a man. The mystery of you.