Posts Tagged ‘courting’

I Want To See More Of You

October 10, 2013

I told the Mister tonight.

“But I am not going to chase,” I finished.

No.

I am not.

Because, this woman is worthy of pursuit.

We went to Ebisu tonight and I made the “sushi face”.

This is the face my friend said that I must look like when I have sex, although we had never slept together and we will never as far as I am concerned, it was an apt observation.

The sushi was good tonight.

I couldn’t help making the sushi face and rubbing my knee when I got happy.

I have no idea where this comes from, I’ve mentioned it before in previous blogs, but yeah, when extremely happy eating something I have noticed myself rubbing my leg, usually my upper thigh, in small concentric circles, a soothing self-caress of luxuriousness.

It’s like eating velvet, good sushi, and my hand wants to pet something.

When I think of good sushi I do as well think of textures, soft, creamy, lush, rich, succulent, there’s a transportation that occurs.

Good sex is like that too.

“What do you want?” I asked him over the second course of the meal.

It all came out at different little moments, orchestrated it seemed to just pique the appetite onto the next place.

I had closed my menu, I was too distracted to eat, I had been thinking and talking about this conversation with myself and a couple of my good girl friends, for a day or two.

Or week.

Shhh.

I realized that I just had to bite it today or be in that ambivalent space and I am sick of the vagueness.  I have so much clarity around other things, my job, where I am living, being back in San Francisco, that I don’t want to be vague about my dating life right now.

I know what I want.

I want a committed relationship.

“I want freedom,” he said, “to work, to play, to hear music and go out to see art, to eat good food, to do yoga, to be of service and help out in my community, to spend time with beautiful attractive women,” he paused.

The crab rolls had arrived.

Crab hand rolls in nori with roe.

So good.

I mixed my wasabi in my soy sauce and watched how he ate the roll, it was not something I had experience with, not a traditional roll that I could eat with chop sticks.

I picked it up, dipped it in the wasabi spiked soy sauce and revelled in the juicy sweet crab and the pop of roe in my mouth, the nori a delicate delivery device, almost more so than the seaweed taste, a crumbling sheet that melted across my tongue just as it was subsumed by rich, savory crab meat.

Divine.

“Like this, now,” he finished, gesturing across to the restaurant and to me.

Ok.

Well, you are not looking for commitment or a girlfriend.

Gotcha.

But you are looking to spend more time with me.

That was obvious.

We walked around the Inner Sunset chatting and catching up before going to sushi and so much of the conversation had to do with things that were upcoming and finding time to see more of each other.

He paid attention, ordered me food he knew I liked, I just put down the menu and acquiesced to be taken care of, it’s a nice feeling to let go of trying to figure out what to eat at a new restaurant.  And he knows my dietary restrictions, and has always been conscious of it, which I find utterly endearing.

Besides, when you are out with someone who is as grounded in the San Francisco food scene as he is, there is no need to worry.

He has never taken me out to a bad restaurant.

I have never had a bad dining experience with him.

I just have not had as much time with him as I would like.

“What would spending more time with you look like?”  I asked him.

“Well, like this, except you would call me, ____________(his nickname amongst friends), and you would probably carry a tissue on you, everyone who I spend time with does (he has allergies and what he doesn’t know is that I bought a fancy box of kleenex last week when I thought he was going to have some time to see me and stashed it in my bathroom. ), he laughed and gently blew his nose to the side.

“I can do that,” I smiled and we continued enjoying the sushi, the company, and the green tea.

After the meal we walked over to 7th and Irving and spent a little time in those environs.  Then homeward toward the ocean.

“You were really brave,” he said as we crossed back over to the car after our time in the Inner Sunset concluded.

He was referring to when I went to Paris.

“I really admired that you did it, it really took a lot of balls, you have to respect that,” he said and looked at me as I stepped off the curb to cross the street.

“Thank you,” I said and smiled, “I am really proud of myself, for going, for trying, I don’t regret it, I never will, and I don’t know that I am moving back, but I will be going back.”

I can continue to be brave and ask for what I want, I thought to myself as we drove through the bustling early evening traffic.

We drove back along the crowded Irving Avenue blocks, past the busy pho shops and tea houses, the Asian five and dimes, and lotto stores, past the Giant Super Market at Irving and 22nd, over the Sunset Avenue, toward the ocean, the crescent moon a beacon over the water.

“Friday, I want to go,” I said.

Some mutual friends are having a bonfire down at Ocean Beach.

“Yeah, and I want to go see the Bulgari exhibit at the DeYoung, maybe I’ll get us tickets,” he said as he pulled up in front of the house.

My little house, all decorated with Halloween ghosties and cackling witches, spider webs and pumpkins–my housemates daughter is 7–and I giggled a little as he took my hand, without meaning too, thinking about how startled I had been coming home the night before and the ghost in the door way “boo’ed” at me.

“We’ll figure out time,” he said and kissed the side of my cheek.

Then my mouth.

The kisses soft, sweet, firm, ardent.

“Good,” I said after, smiling at him, “I want to see more of you, but I am not going to chase you.”

“I know, I have a responsibility here,” he said smiling.

“I like your tights,” he said out of nowhere.

(Good, I wore them with you in mind)

“I like you, _____________” I said, using his nickname.

“Hey!” He smiled at me as I climbed out of the car.

“Call me when you want to see more of me,” I finished and waved as I pulled the gate shut behind me.

I want you, but you have to want me too.

I am worth it, Mister.

But I won’t chase you.

I am the ball.

The man who wants me will come for me.

Until that time, I am free, available for dating, and oh yeah.

Surfing.

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