I haven’t written much and so here is the backgound to my next post. My life now a vast departure from the days of sand between my toes and wind flying through my hair as I rode my horse through untouched Puerto Rico. My surroundings now are touched, built up, the concrete schoolyard of New York City. Work is now aligned with my passions, but my soul left elsewhere. I am with A. Our relationship, slow in its intimacy, but intriguing, a long juicy novel that seems never ending. He is my Tiger Woods. Charismatic, successful, funny, and generous. Unfortunately, I, Elin.
He has let me into his life. My dog and I now stay, basically living, in his Tribeca sprawling elegant apartment. He travels and I stay. I am careful to invade. With precision, I strive to keep my belongings unobtrusive. An easy task in grand living.
Our life amazing. However, with the slow progress towards coupledom, our sex life has flailed in the opposing direction. Intimacy issues. The platitude. I care enough to stay. To see my own faults. Take note of my lack of words, the emotions I hold close. Our actions speak loud, but not loud enough. Two salts. I, better with pepper.