Journal 27th Sept

27th

"He's got the holy spirit about him you can tell that by looking a him - Some hairy guy in a documentary about Bob Dylan.

That blind fiddler had the holy spirit about him too.
I saw it.

It's important to remember moments like that when dealing with men who do not have the holy spirit quite so apparently about their person.

Green eyes wrote back.

More Manspeak.

Although, from the flow and tone, I can see quite clearly he's over the moon and that this email flowed out of him a hell of a lot more smoothly than the one the night before. There is still not one word about how he feels in either direction.
How the scales do fall away when you admit to being in love. I prefer the old way when I was afraid to tell them and saw them as Prince Charming.

The truth is, I see him. I recognise the street he lives on. I've lived there for years myself. I love that about him. Kindred spirit.
But what does that mean really?

LB says some men are just not good at getting in touch with or talking about their feelings.

Or is he just coming out of his cave like I was last year with gardener?
Is he just as scared and gormless at this as I am?

He's just like me. I see him. That's what falling in love is. Seeing the person, really through and through. Mirror mirror. The warrior, the child, the insecurity, the sweetness of a gentle man who's just confused as fuck and terrified of making a mistake and being rejected.
So I cut him some slack.
But I don't reply.
There's nothing to say really.