Chapter 3 | Entry Thirty-Three

"What will it feel like when someone can actually hold this?"

I've been imagining him.

Not his face or his job or where we'll meet. But how my body will respond when he's near.

I close my eyes and feel it: my shoulders resting. My breath deepening. That hum in my chest that says YES before my mind even catches up.

He'll be steady. Not in a boring way, in a way that makes my nervous system exhale. The kind of man who doesn't need to prove anything, who's done his own work, who knows how to be present without performing.

When he touches me, it won't be tentative. It'll be certain. Like he knows exactly who I am and isn't afraid of any of it.

And I'll feel safe enough to be soft. To let my guard down. To stop scanning for danger or disappointment.

But here's what matters most: I'll feel alive with him.

Not just safe. Not just comfortable. But lit up. Curious. Like there's always more to discover, more to feel, more to explore together.

He'll ask me questions that make me think. He'll listen without needing to fix. He'll meet my intensity with his own, not matching it, but not shrinking from it either.

And when I imagine sharing this beauty with him, this radiance I've been tending so carefully, my whole body softens.

Because he won't need me to explain it or prove it or hand it to him carefully.

He'll just see it. And he'll know it's rare.

He'll treat it like something sacred. Not because I'm fragile, but because he understands what it means that I'm offering it at all.

That I'm choosing him.

And that will be the difference.

Not someone who takes what I give because it's there. But someone who receives it knowing what it cost me to stay this open. What it took to get here.

Someone who says, I see you. All of you. And I'm not going anywhere.

My body knows the difference now.

Between someone who wants access and someone who wants to stay.

Between someone who's curious and someone who's committed.

Between someone who sees my beauty and someone who honors it.

And I'm ready for that now.

For someone who looks at all of this, the depth, the fire, the tenderness, the intensity, and doesn't flinch.

Someone who just says, Yes. You. I'm here.

—Still here, still imagining, still open