jelly in my hands? how did I never notice the kink factor?

[impy]

There is something quite disconcerting about kissing someone [being kissed by? I suspect there's a difference] and having your brain try and sort through such things as what you're going to do after work [this would be fine if the options included kidnapping and tying someone to the bed. Those thoughts are probably more in keeping with the whole kissing gig], wondering if they know their breath smells kinda funky, wondering if yours does, and all sorts of other things. I was always under the impression your brain was at least supposed to keep along the same lines of thinking when you were swapping spit with someone, not thinking of other things.

Now, if it were just that, I'd go with the assumption that whatever spark I thought was there most certainly doesn't translate well into anything physical. Except... it's not that. :p It's just my brain won't shut up about anything. I think the brain was expecting to get it's own fireworks and no such luck. So instead it's prattling off random lists that just confuse the hell out of me. :/

I don't think I've ever wanted to feel normal as much as I did this past week when he was around, after we got past the whole "Kiss? What kiss? Surely you're not waiting around to kiss me. No, we can't go down that road again..." part. You know, when your heart is beating so fast you're fairly sure that your chest will explode if you're lucky. But at least then, with the whole thought looming overhead, I felt normal. But then we did and it was like before, only.. not. Because my head went right on wondering if there's a lie Hollywood sends out and no one tells you that you continue on thinking, and not just about moving past the kissing. Because that thinking is taking place elsewhere as parts of you dissolve into jelly [sorry, but that song is stuck in my head] but my brain WON'T SHUT UP.

That needed to be screamed because, honestly, it's bugging me.

Normal? Or is this all just a giant neon sign that says go on with the fuck & run plot? Honestly, I never thought I'd be one of those people who seriously considered it, but... I'm thinking I might be. With him anyway.

ETA: Because the fuck&run comment can be taken the wrong way, I figure I'd best clarify. I'm not entirely sure of my ability to sustain any kind of relationship beyond three months. Three months is how long it takes for all my fears and annoyances to amplify to such a degree I go nuts and just burn [but not literally] anything and start over. It's also how long it takes for people to truly figure out that I'm nuts and the average shelf life for any relationship I have. Except with the ex, but that was more about us being entirely too stubborn to run screaming, denial, and a whole bunch of other things. Anyway, it's not so much having sex with him that's the problem [at least not in theory, as I wouldn't know about in practice], it's the fact that he's the one sitting there saying, "I love you" and waxing poetic and I'm not really able to come back with anything other than a mental ditto. And I don't need someone mooning around after me if I don't want them to. And until I do, I think I should avoid the whole sleeping with him bit. Cuz, you know, if it's bad, then that'd just suck, and if he doesn't run screaming, I might. Complicated.

So. TMI will end. Now.