In a post about true love last week, I mentioned that MC finds me the most glamorous when I'm at my most human. This is true in a deeply animalistic sense -- he is more adoring, protective, and turned on by me than ever when I'm completely at the mercy of my corporeal self, like when I'm screaming with giggles, sick on the couch, over full from dinner, or exhausted and asleep. This aspect of our relationship might be unexpected, since MC so consumingly loves and appreciates the sexiness of ornamental trappings. MC lights up for my smokey eye makeup, stylish clothes and sky-high heels; he is, after all, my own personal glamor photographer. And yet, despite being the dude who is so viscerally and creatively aroused by these decorations, he is even more moved when all of the embellishments, as well as the control that goes with them, are stripped away.
So it's actually not that surprising that MC always loves it when I switch into flats.He loves it even more when I'm barefoot. :)
I've said it before but it bares repeating: I didn't think love was like this before I met MC. I thought that love, like most things in life, was a slog through mediocrity. Then I was in the wedding of two kickass friends, who were in love in the kind of way I thought only existed in poisonous fiction, and my head exploded. It totally made me open up to what was out there for me.I consequently like seeing reflections of true love in life (or on the internet), and I hope I can provide something similar to anybody who's similarly inclined.
My middle school didn't have dance-a-thons, but MC's did, and I would give my right boob to have been there slow dancing with him to "Lady in Red" by Chris De Burgh (at the age of...five?) but at least I can wear his t-shirt. And entertain ridiculous fantasies (in which I am magically not five). collars ltd