Maine Man

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Write!  Write yourself home.

Beth was home.  Coming to a new understanding of the world and herself. In an almost odd sort of way, Tex helped with that.  It wasn't the smell of smoke continuously on him, or the stank of cheap booze.  It was his sleaze.   Raw sleaze if sleaze can be raw.  A life spent medicating with the addictive.  In a way, we all do that.  Degree is what matters here.

But it was Maine who took my breath away.  He got all the elements.  Understood the Illuminati, UFOs, the Rockefeller funded feminist movement, the military industrial complex, the continual news distortions, disinformation.   He understood what men want.  What he wanted.  He even said that what most men want was RESPECT.  Who knew?

He could be raw, too.  Raw honesty.  Beth could handle it.  She admired it.  Admired his Thoreau experience.  That he could be so upfront with his pain.  His foibles.  She knew she had finally met a man her age who would teach her for a change.  Teach her about emotions.  Unfiltered emotions.  But she wasn't sure about the Jesus thing.  Or that he liked the Baptist church so much.  She'd ask him about gun control. 

Maine was a mix of contradictions. Or maybe not.  She wanted to see it played out. Beliefs.  Smarts beyond smarts. 

She liked when he admitted...knew even...that who we are at our core belief is also who we are in a relationship.  He wanted that relationship to discover how he could be.

Beth did, too. 

She wanted...had...to know more.  What would she be like if she could truly be intimate with someone who could truly be intimate with her.  It would be a first. Definitely for her.

Soon.