late late last night i was tucked under blankets snuggled with soul friend who is the snuggliest person i know. i’m a seasonal snuggler, reserving all snuggling for the wintertime. in the summer i prefer not to be touched while i sleep. in the summer i prefer to be in the southern hemisphere where it is winter and i want to snuggle. i’m snugglier than i admit. i’m mushier than i admit, too. i don’t know why i defend against it, why i don’t want to admit to snuggling mushy-sweet-talk and all that crap. i pretend to be much tougher than i am. i’m resilient. i’m a survivor. in a physical confrontation, i’ll inflict permanent damage. but i’m soft and vulnerable and any pretense of toughness is only a front.
i had a brief discussion about “image” with soul twin earlier this week. we all project and protect an image of ourselves in public. what if i dropped that image? what if i was as vulnerably snuggly and mushy in public as i am when i’m tucked beneath the covers at 3 a.m. in wintertime? what harm could possibly come to me for being more authentic and less defended?
i’ll tell you what i’m afraid of: people who want to fuck me. i’m half-kidding and totally serious. i’ve been told that i’m “sex on legs” which has the unfortunate consequence of garnering unwanted lechery. i don’t want to be fucked by any i’m not already fucking, therefore any measure of “i want to fuck you” energy is unwelcome. i defend against it. my guard is always up. i have a well-practiced cold haughty bitch vibe that i wear as armor when i’m out, especially when i’m out alone. last night it was easier to skip the going out part and snuggle under blankets with soul friend. it is easier to do that any winter night, because i’m authentically snuggly and the bitch image masks the sweet-talking mushy lump of secret angel that i am.