What does it take?

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To be with me . . .

There is no simple answer.  No recipe, no formula.  No cookie cutter.  No outline.

But there are requirements.




The first of which is this:  If you are looking for yourself here, look elsewhere.  That ghost haunts another space.  I am not for searching; I am for seeking.

When I seek you out, do not hide from me.

Lay your secrets bare and know that I can bear it.  The strength of a thousand armies fortifies my heart, but if you can do this, I will lay my weapons down.  You can burn down the fortress walls with a word and build a castle from the ashes.

Words have power.

So does silence.

If you want to be with me, you must accept that either can be your undoing.  And that both, and the sides of me they represent, will (re)create Who We Are, and Who We Become.

To become, you must first know where you come from.

Know yourself.

Beyond the surface.

I don’t care how many streaks of silver shine through whatever hairs you have left, or how many lines you wear on your face.  I want to know, when you see your reflection in the mirror, if you can look yourself in the eye.  I want to hear the stories behind each crease, whether they came from smiles or frowns.  I want your laughter and your tears, and the unvarnished truth about your past so we can walk honestly into our future.

I value honesty.

Do not lie to me.

Not even in the little things.

Especially not in the little things.

And understand that your words, once given, are binding.  Failure to keep your word is the worst kind of lie.

Words have power.

Choose them wisely.

If you say you will do something, do it.  Of course there will be times you forget to pick up a gallon of milk, even though that’s the primary reason you went to the grocery store to begin with.  Of course.  You are human.  So am I.  We will make mistakes.  Remedying them means recognizing them.  Recognize this:  Failure to keep your word means your “I will” becomes “I don’t.”  Do what you say you will do.  Failure to follow through will only lead to loss of faith.  Without faith, there is no trust.  Without trust, there is no Us.

Trust is the steel beam construction around which this house is built.  Without it, we are but crumbling turrets on dried out sandcastles at high tide.

Recognize the oceanic force in me.  My undercurrents are strong.  Wading into these waters is a conscious choice.  The push and pull, the swell, the power…  It can be intoxicating.  Take care that you do not get drunk on me.  Make your decision(s) with sobriety.  Check your addictions at the door.  Unload your steamer trunk of baggage.  Give me your nakedness – in body, yes, but if that’s all you have to offer, it is not enough. Go play in the kiddie pool.  I want more than your skin.  Swim at your own risk.

Embrace the risk.

Nothing worth having ever comes easy.

I will not be easy.  We will not be easy.

And if you think those words are a dare, that you can prove me wrong, that you are different somehow, that you are not difficult, that we will not be hard work…  Walk away now.  Walk away before I push you away and trample your ego to dust in my haste to exit your presence.  This is not a game.  I am not a game.  I am nothing you can win, and everything you will lose.

But if you realize that those words are a reflection of the challenge ahead, of the precarious and exhilarating climb we will make – out of the depths, into the beyond – take my hand.  Tame the wilds – within and without – alongside me.

Be with me.

In every way.

Take your space, as you need it.  But no matter how far apart we stretch, maintain a fingertip hold.  There is a fine line between a bend and a break, between a break and a shatter; the latter you may never have the opportunity to mend.  This is not a threat, it is a fact.  It is a hard line.  Be wise enough not to cross it.

Accept my limitations.

Do not define yourself by yours.

Create new boundaries together with me that define the country of Us.

Be my friend.

Be my lover.

Kiss me like you mean it.

Hold me like you won’t let go.

Love me like the air you breathe.

Be.  Just…  Be.

With me.

Be yourself.  I don’t want an edited version of who you think you are supposed to be.  A mask is a lie and I am enamored with the truth.

Be aware.

Be aware of your words and your deeds, of what you have said and not said, of what you have done and left undone, and the ramifications of all.

Be aware that an offhanded “compliment” can be more of a slap in the face than words intended to hurt.

Pay attention.  Learn.

To know my responses is to know me.  To anticipate them based on your acquired knowledge from others is to insult me.  The collective “they” are behind you.  Look at who is in front of you and choose to see.

Be aware.

Be aware that my beauty is in my strength.  Failure to see that, or repeated refusal to accept that it is not the other way around, will result in an ending before we start.  Physical beauty is subjective and it is fleeting.  I am more than hips and hair and breasts and bones.  I am more.  If you cannot see the more, it is not me you see.  It is the more that matters.  “You are beautiful” means nothing to me if you cannot tell me why.

And you have to tell me why.  Why you want this.  Me.  Us.

Tell me what you want.  From this.  Me.  Us.

You asked me what it takes.  To belong to me.  To be mine.

You asked me, “What do you want?”

The answer is in all these words, and a thousand more.

But what it all boils down to is this:  You must be willing to give if you are to receive.  You must be ready.  For anything.  For everything.

For always.

Because the simple fact of the matter is:  I want it all.

Or nothing at all.

0 thoughts on “What does it take?

  1. wildoats1962

    Wow. It used to bug me when people told me I think too much. I fret about this and worry about that. I psychoanalyze my feelings in an effort to pin down exactly what they are. I piss off people by trying to get them to figure out what they feel and why. Sometimes I miss Buster, a malamute who wore his heart on a sleeve {Well all dogs have a coat don’t they}. There was no analysis of why, it just was.

    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      Winnie the Pooh just *is* ~ yet there is a ‘why’ to the what, even if he doesn’t realize it.

      I don’t expect anyone to think they know everything.

      I just expect everyone to think. Period.

      Apparenty I have high expectations.

  2. Fatal

    Reading through this a third time today. I’ve really wanted to comment and say YES YES YES. But I think the only sufficient thing to say to you, my love, is: I grok. Fully.


  3. Jayne

    I’m backtracking and I’m so glad I got to read this Feve.
    There’s such a draw to this and such a razor’s edge. I loved it. I think that only those who are comfortable with the danger of winning greatly, able to live alongside the risk are the ones who know it’s all worth it. It is and always has been a challenge to find such delicious men. I do know a couple of them though. They’re gorgeous and they’re kinda like unicorns.

    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      Thanks, Jayne.

      Life is short.

      And love is much too precious to waste.

      I don’t have time or energy for anybody who doesn’t understand that.

        1. Tony Conrad

          I wouldn’t call it a crown of thorns. The high standards bring a myriad of blessings in my view.

          Beautiful piece Mrs F.

          1. Jayne

            You’re right. In re-reading my comment, I must have been thinking of something else, like the work and the failures – not the benefits and blessings of when it just works. Thank you for reminder.

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