You

I am committing this little fantasy I have been nursing over the last two days to memory. So it stays here, in this twisted, public, private space because feelings are exactly that - private possessions of one's own that are actually insidiously publicly displayed by your tone of voice, twinkle of eye or sway of hips.

I like you. I liked you immediately. Even before we met, I saw your photographs, I read between the lines of your Facebook entries and got to know you. The only thing I didn't expect was that you were shorter than imagined.

But you were every bit the creature I had conjured in my head. This loving, and that's not a word I often use, intense, at times boisterous, thoughtful, eager boy. In a different universe, one where I am not attached, I would probably even care to venture further and make you curious.

Of course, even in that universe, you could not respond. But that's someone else's story.

In mine, we are at one time, curled up in bed, the dog next to us, sharing secrets and dreams and futures of our own with one another. We lead a full life, full of lvoe and hand-holding, kissing and little surprises at the dinner table. And a gorgeous little wedding.

It must be the strain of the last few days that have led me down this overgrown path in my garden.

Thing is, when I think about you, and you have been the favourite subjecto f my mental wanderings lately, I can imagine nice things. Affection, but not passion.

And no, I wouldn't leave the person in this life for you. Despite her weaknesses and her seeming lack of affection.

But it's nice to think about. And nice to realise that somewhere out there, there are people I am attracted to at some level. I thought they didn't exist anymore.

They do. You do.

And that is enough for me.