I admit it, I was needy. It had been a daunting experience, stretching my faith to its limits, and I was looking for an opening, a solution–anything to draw me into the light. It wasn’t as if my actions were dangerous, and honestly, I didn’t really care at the time. As I said, I was needy.
It started innocently enough, a phrase here and there, often with an expectant innuendo. I knew what I was doing, at least I thought I did. Loneliness can masquerade itself, and in my case, as bravado. I told myself, it’s okay to flirt with him, pushing the envelope into a desperate twist of affection.
Of course, as all things of dreams and fantasy, it lasted a short while, and ended with some sadness, although no regrets. I often think of him, the rare smile, the wanton look in his eyes, and the words. . .it was the words–whispers in that beloved accent, that entangled me.