V is for...

Sometimes, we all need that someone who will nudge us, push us, and move us to go to places where everything won't hurt until you wake up the next day in someone else's room, in your undies, telling yourself that you shouldn't have gone out, while you try to remember what exactly happened the night before. And everything will be alright.

As the days pass, what little push I can get from Doormat seem to dwindle down to smaller more minuscule servings. And though he often reemphasizes that he is single, the smile that appears when he says that word grows shorter. Maybe this is it - the moment when the Doormat is finally brought in after patiently waiting it out under all the seasons, weather, and dirty steps, to be laundered, cleaned, and ever so lovingly placed deep inside the warmer walls of someone's fancy. The moment where the doormat stops being a doormat and becomes the centerpiece of the living room, full-sized rug, expensive, and rare, a centerpiece of someone's attention and comfort.

The relationship Doormat has with the guy he's been seeing for sometime now will take a turn for the yes. For crying out loud, they're even moving in together soon. And before we know it, they're official. And unless they'll open the guestroom for a hot threesome (I hear that bottom is the type who seems open to such frivolous fanfare), my house will stand cold, under the humid climate, nearly empty, save for the internet connection and the memories I think of when I touch myself.

Do not be fooled by then seemingly bickering that the prior sentences seem to put on, I am in no way lonely, decrepit, and jealous. Well, maybe a little.

What saddens me really is not the loss of a come-on lust pal (surprised?), but the loss of having a sounding-board (attraction short of being a boyfriend) ready to hear me out, ready to listen to my whimpering, and admission of weakness. And most of all, the loss of having that special friend who can give me that nice little innocent push on nights when the rain taps on your roof, incessantly reminding you if how pathetic you are, who will tell you with a whole heart that you're fine. Because now, that answer that will make all of those bad feelings go away, is exclusively reserved for that guy who took the doormat in.

I may be a vixen, but I am vulnerable too.

Very vulnerable.