u/Ill-Cod8133

I’m obsessed with you.

You have a hold unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

I wish I could just get over you.

And at the same time I’m so grateful for the excitement you bring to my life and can’t let you go.

I’m too self aware to know the underlying reasons for this. You feed my wounds.

It’s complicated and many would say fucked up.

Marriage and life is just so complex that I try not to judge myself.

Hell with all the incredibly difficult unforeseen challenges in my life, can’t I have some enjoyment?

Why can’t I have something delicious and exciting.

I do judge myself in the cycle of limerence I find myself in with you at its center.

I pine for you daily.

I dream about you all day.

I want to get over you badly.

But you are the most exciting part of my life so I can’t let you go.

Even if you mostly exist in my brain.

Feeling your body inside mine is the most orgasmic feeling I've ever known, and I've lived a lifetime hoping for this.

The delicious ache of being near you, the way you fit like you were carved for me. Your weight pressing me down, your breath hot against my neck, that moment when you first push inside and my whole body sighs yes.

You feel good in all the ways that matter your quiet, stable presence that's really just emotional distance dressed up nice, skin on skin that says everything your mouth won't, the salt taste of your shoulder, the sound you make when you're close, when your guard drops and I get the real you.

An escape from my life, from all the grinding pressures, from being everyone's everything. With you, I feel loved and desired just for being. No performance, no expectations, no armor. Just this. Just us tangled in sheets.

But I can finally see beyond the rose colored glasses now, and god, I better understand your avoidant style, that careful distance you maintain. The way you can't give me what I need. I made it so easy for you. Met you exactly where you are, asked for breadcrumbs when I'm starving. But I need more, and I hate myself for needing it. My wounds and yours they're the perfect lock and key, the perfect poison.

We fit because we're both broken in compatible ways. And your dick feels amazing. There. I said it. Forty years and no one has ever made my body feel like this.
So now I'm at this crossroads and it hurts to see this clearly.

Do I give up this body that knows mine better than anyone ever has, these feelings that flood through me, because my head knows you aren't for me? Or do I keep you close, keep taking these scraps, because I don't want anyone else? Because no one else will feel this good, and god, the thought of starting over makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

Forty years to find this. The thought of trying with someone new, of fumbling through awkward first times, of never feeling you again devastes me.

Any healthy person would tell me this is toxic. That I'm sacrificing myself on the altar of good sex, familiarity and the addictiveness of avoidant attachment.

But do I walk away now, give up the best my body has ever felt, for the slim, terrifying chance I'll find someone better? Someone who feels even half as electric but actually stays? Who doesn't leave me gutted and wanting more?

I really don't want to let you go.

But I'm dying holding on