That's what you said to me. And other things that will remain between us.
Boy, are you right.
Just in case you are wondering, I don't kiss and tell. Even if we could right now, I wouldn't. Odd as it may seem, given what I do disclose, I'm careful to protect the identities and hopefully the self-esteem of friends and family.
But I just wanted you to know how much it meant to me that you recognized that.
Because my first responsibility is to my family, and my children as they grow, I can't afford to be impulsive. My close relationship with my kids has a natural cost -- a lack of time for adult companionship.
Perhaps I've been too wary -- although, sadly, I look around and have little reason to question my choices.
As the parent of kids from a split family, I want them, paradoxically, to believe in love that lasts.
Even if mine didn't -- or if it morphed into something closer to friendship and respect.
The past few months, in spite of a fair amount of male attention (which can so easily disappear) I've felt as though I didn't have time to be feminine. Loss can do that, too -- cause women to feel as though they can no longer evoke desire. Sometimes it's hard to find the truth amidst the remorse.
And so it's liberating, in a way, to admit, as I did yesterday, that yes, I do need lots of kissing, holding, and (private) sweet talk.
As perhaps we all do, if we are willing to admit it.
It's wonderful to be seen, and appreciated. Really seen.
I hope that someone does that for you too, readers.
Now where the heck is my mascara?
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