13.08.2015

On some Faces of Intimacy

Intimacy stays. Always. Sometimes.
Today after not seeing him for some year and a half I happened to come across My Mirror Man . Well, we are constantly communicating on phone and skype, but seeing him face to face was still sort of a shock to us both. The interesting feeling was that of safety and comfort I do believe we both had, especially after seeing off the people accompanying us. Intimacy is when we look into each other's eyes for quite a long time and still feel so comfortable. Through all said and unsaid, we managed to keep it, yet none of us paying some attention to it. The look of endless devotion and straightforwardness was in our eyes. I just felt so intimate for a moment. It even scared me. His hugs so tight, and smile so only mine. For a moment it seemed to me we were back in time. Yet, it is gone.  The conclusion is that two people manage to keep intimacy of being absolutely themselves with each other, even when they break up. Probably, this gives me hope our relationship was and is based on honesty and true love.
Another moment of endless intimacy pampered me when I caught myself on sparing naughty jokes and personal care issue talks with my best friend of opposite gender. The fact we are not the same sex does make our relationship quite complicated and difficult to keep stressless, still I feel there is an ocean of intimacy between us which allows us being what we are. The conclusion is once two people commit to cherish a normal, devoted and supportive friendship, even with some skeletons in both cupboards, it is manageable to reach a very high level of intimacy.
Some unexpected intimacy stroke my father and me last evening, when ending up the second bottle of super expensive and highly appreciated wine he decided I am the only one to know all his life secrets. Not having a properly settled relationship we managed to set up the ultimate level of intimacy a father and a daughter are capable of achieving. Conclusion is blood line and genetic information push intimacy set up far better than millions of shared days.
Some intimate relationships also end up. Like the one I had with my former life and not only life teacher, with who we technically went through shitty stuff, and then, one day I found myself feeling nothing towards this person. Intimacy was not just shattered, it vanished. Conclusion is that intimacy can disappear once the relationship is endangered, not looked after and left to the fate's will.
Intimacy has many faces. Whoever gives us the chills and safety and love and tears, the important thing is
to seize the moment and enjoy the true connection with the person who has opened the door for you to appreciate, and never spare his or her valuable intimacy.

OnAir InAir



I adore how the plane takes off. Right now: it is happening. Trembling legs, ears get stuffed and heart goes up to the sky. I am an absolutely air zodiac sign (#proudtobegemini)- how I love the air and wind and planes and flights and even the turbulence zones. Do I need to mention the two-hour love affairs with occasional handsomeness!?
Taking an average of 6 planes per year is sort of a habit now. And I absolutely love this habit. I even sort of anticipate them.
It makes me reboot. It helps me get on with all.
This amazing smell of fresh sandwiches and soap. This perfect lonesomeness of a whole 200 people in the air- and yes, the nice view. People trying to get busy so that the flight passes unnoticeably boring. The beautiful flight attendants trying to please us and make us buy the expensive stuff with their charming smiles.
I always read in the plane. I always read.
Gone to read. Get some flights.
Ok. I lied. I am in my thoughts still. I have always cherished the fantasy to make an acquaintance with #myman on the plane. So that we could talk and talk (that is all about me). Well, hopefully this will happen.
Some important events in my life are connected with planes and airports. I need to overcome them all. All the truth and my fantasy. All the love and break ups ever had.Every travel had a different man I missed. This does not necessarily imply I have had , oh my God, about ten men. They did not need to be boyfriends to be missed and loved. They were and are just my muses. This one is not an exception.
 With years I have become more sensitive- more lovable, more appreciative, more caring, more bitchy( though I quite professionally conceal this). Loving less, caring more. Better said, less theory, more practice (hope, this does not sound too pervert).
I also love watching the people-the sleepers and the frightened, the tired and the readers. The readers, like my mom, well, yeah, and me.