Turn the lights down low
Take it off, let me show
My love for you insatiable
Turn me on, never stop
Wanna taste every drop
My love for you insatiable
This is kind of a cheesy song, I suppose, but it's also both ridiculously romantic and ridiculously sexy and it keeps playing in my head over and over and over and over today. "Anniversary part 2" last night, with fancy takeout and flowers and the most gorgeous pair of earrings (with symbolism even!) and then *hours* of stoned sex.
(I am actively not exaggerating - if anything the time dilation effect was in full swing so it was something like 3 hours but felt like 6 or more, I kept looking at the time and being surprised it wasn't later.)
It's so funny that OKC used to ask - maybe still does, I don't even remember whether my account is turned on at the moment, I certainly haven't logged in for over a year - "Do you think drug use with your partner can be a romantic activity?" It was always a weird question to try to answer, as it's such a situational thing. There are times in which getting drunk or stoned is the farthest possible thing from romance, just straight up hedonism at best. But there are also times that it's... jeez. Describing something trippy is always so clichéd, like I think I've experienced something profound when it's really just chemicals... and yet aren't all thoughts, and really all experiences, just chemicals in your brain?
So when I say that there were moments in which I was inside an amethyst kaleidoscope, or moments when my body WAS the kaleidoscope and the colors and the light were bouncing around inside my skin, following his hands, that was at the very least real to me. When I say there were moments when his eyes were the green blue ocean I was drowning in as waves of sensation flooded me, when I say that there were moments when I thought every nerve in my body had somehow been short circuited together so I felt every touch through my whole body, when I say I came so hard and for so long it was like one long orgasm with peaks that just kept hitting over and over and over, when I say that there were moments in which it almost seemed I was feeling exactly what Artist was, and vice versa (we've always had near Tantric connection somehow, where somehow I can feel his pleasure in my body, but this was much much more than that).... when I say there were moments between the sex where I was almost crying because my body couldn't hold the amount of love I was feeling... All those things were real, in some sense, whether or not there's any objective reality behind these descriptions.
And I write this to remember, write this because I'm still shaken to the core the next day by the intensity of all of this, of him, of us.