My Men

I'm obsessed with my men.
I find myself dreaming of awkward combinations of my men.
Every free moment I wish for creative ways to snare my men into my space.
I constantly want one or all of them next to me, on my phone, texting me, emailing me.

It's a sickness. I understand that. I'm avoiding getting a real man of my own, a boyfriend, because I know I'm not ready to keep myself with the opportunity that I could actually constantly be around my man.

Somehow, I am assured the healing will continue as this evolution of my life unfolds before me.
My new job is a sharp contrast from my last environment. Perhaps it is only in comparison that my heart soars with joyous delight, I can't know for sure, but it was absolutely the hardest part of my first day to not squeal with giddiness that my manager is a man, his manager is a man, if I go the other direction up the chain of command, I'm reporting to 6 men and two women, the managers of both departments I support being men. Even to hear the chatter in a different octave nearly brought a tear to my eye. OK, so I'd been up since 5am, forgot to eat 3 of my meals, and started my period midday, and every window I looked out was another view of NYC, but still.

We'll see how it goes, but with the overwhelming excitement over my first day still with me a full day later, I'm sure it will be a while before I bitch about the day job.
The house on the other hand...