You Make My Tummy Funny

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‘If you can love your partner the way she is, if you can open your heart completely to your partner, you can reach heaven through your love’

Don Miguel Ruiz
The Mastery of Love – A Practical Guide to the Art of Relationship, A Toltec Wisdom book

In days gone by, we would have been sending ever more explicit text messages to each other.

Ramping up the excitement and the anticipation of our next meeting with words. Feeding our lust and building our desire to the point where the conflagration would be hot and sweaty and rampant, culminating with him inside me within 20 minutes of me walking through the door.

But now it’s different. No less sublime. Certainly no less steamy. But the build-up is different.

We still count down the days and the hours but there are far less texts and their content is nowhere near the same.

Because we no longer need the words. The pictures are all in our heads.

Sounds, scents, tactile explosions of previous pleasures. Like some hedonistic archive upon which to draw.

No need for imagination or scene setting.

His body and its effect upon it are well-known to me and mine. And vice versa.

I can sense his proximity. Feel the ache as the miles between us decrease with every hour on the day.

He needs only to write the words ‘You make my tummy funny’ and I know exactly what he means. That fluttering excitement at the thought of being together again. A physical manifestation of the chemical reaction in our brains.

The first time he visited, I walked down to the cafe where he went to wait for me to finish work.

Stood and watched him through the window and appreciated how cute he looked and that his face looked thinner where he’d lost weight from extra working out. I remember how he looked up and noticed me… and smiled.

And everything that I had been through to get to that moment was worth it.

Now, he has a key and will be waiting for me.

As I open the door, his voice will greet me as his body moves swiftly from the sofa to hold me.

And he will envelop me in him. Pushing his tongue inside mine to take possession of me, both internally and externally. Surrounding and filling me so that we forget where we each begin and end. There is only us, one body divesting itself of surplus material as each set of skin moulds itself to the other, our contours fitting neatly together as he achieves the final penetration and we are totally as one.

To know that someone is the other half of you is a truly extraordinary thing.