Little Things That Can Become Quite Large (2008 Repost from Sensual Goodness)

 I really did want to tell him that morning that his pants were unzipped. I really did but then he'd possibly feel uncomfortable and neither of us needed that right then. Maybe when he went to the bathroom earlier in my apartment, he had buttoned but had forgotten to finish the job. It didn't matter. I just told myself that he'd figure it out pretty soon and maybe I could spare him the little embarrassed feelings that we get when intimate things become - well, exposed. (I can't believe I said that, I was thinking it but I shouldn't write it down.) 

 
Journals aren't for that kind of talk. My mother told me time and time again how anyone who picked up my diaries could tell right away what I was thinking and really, isn't that the point? They shouldn't be reading my diary, but then again, maybe I shouldn't be writing about my new boyfriend's pants being unzipped except there was something else. Something kind of sweet and funny at the same time. I'm not good at talking about it so writing helps. 
 
Now I'm only saying this because it was just so cute. Maybe cute isn't the right word. Not cute like a puppy is cute, but cute you know, like silly and possibly sexy too. If it had been anyone else, I swear to God I wouldn't say a word, well I wouldn't write a word but it wasn't someone else it was him. It was Callum, and we're dating. There, I said it. I don't care if anyone knows. I can admit that right? But I didn't think that inviting a man over to help me spruce up my apartment would somehow equate to it being the first time I actually saw his - - his you know, oh hell what do you call it if you can't say the real word? I hate the word cock; I just won't use it. OK for the sake of being flamboyant and fun I'll call it his turtle because that's exactly what it reminded me of; the head of a little turtle just peeking out and looking around trying for the life of him to figure out where the pond was - - no, I shouldn't write it out, I know. 
 
We were just painting my apartment Sunday. I couldn't look at the four beige walls another day. I asked Callum to come by and bring a can of any color he thought might brighten up the place. He and his dad paint military buildings for a living. Not that I thought drab gray or brown would be nice, but maybe when they got around to painting the inside of the children's ward at the hospital there might be something left over, just even a half of a gallon of anything, I really didn't care. He picked a pastel. He brought me something called Chamomile and it was soft. I really liked it. My bedroom would finally be livable and if the turtle had anything to do with it, it would be useful as well. Oh, stop it. I can't do this. Someone is going to think I'm nuts and tell on me. I'm going to catch it for even thinking what I was thinking. 
 
The thought occurred to me that he wasn't, or probably wasn't wearing any underwear if the ever growing (now tortoise) was showing interest in me - I mean Callum, the guy with the smiling face up top was looking pretty interested in my paint-stained overalls, I have to admit I was filling them out a little better than I use to when we had met in high school. Twelve years will do that to a girl - sometimes. This feeling I was having wasn't going away, but I couldn't help myself, I couldn't stop making the subconscious connection between his pants and the den of a reptilian sea monster digging and clawing its way out of the cave to complete devour me as I stood before the only man that could save me and have me all at the same time. I couldn't help myself, I laughed.... and...I guess when I laughed a little I also pointed. I pointed there. 
 
For the first time Callum realized that his shy and somewhat unassuming smile had been deceived by the one eye that sees everything exactly the way he wants to see it - which in this case was probably spread eagle on the floor in the other room, there's no way we could have found a spot on the bed or the even the rug in my room - plastic and paint brushes lay everywhere, no it would have to be the other room - the pond! I was still tickled by the thought of what started out to be such a little thing and had literally grown to all that my imagination could take in. I wanted to see what I could actually take in - and maybe the shy and yet leading man I wanted could feel the heat rising off of the back of my neck. Maybe he could hear the echo in my chest, God knows it was loud enough. 
 
Suffice it to say we found a reason to take a break from painting and no, I can't say I'd write everything down that happened to me but I do have a lot more respect for those armored terrapin warriors in those old cartoons...Kawabunga! 

Photo Credit: Lea Zane