Text messages from this evening:

Phil: Long time no see

Me: Indeed.

Me:  I think I am falling for Seabiscuit.

Phil: Huh? 

Phil: Who dat? Specs. You date so much I can’t keep track.

Me: Lol, you have heard about him. The older guy, photographer.

Me: We have exchanged 90 emails now in 33 days.

Phil:Your metric for intimacy is rate of text/email exchange. I’ve always found that interesting. Not in a bad way mind you. Just interesting.

Me: I’M REALLY INTO WRITING.

He is right though. I do seem to think of intimacy in words exchanged. With Caleb it was texts. With all these men from Craigslist, it is by emails (and soon recordings–Lord, I can’t wait to hear Seabiscuit’s voice! But Lord Byron may particularly make me swoon with that special fondness I have of British accents and their effects on me.)

Despite Patrick being an idiot, he did get a few things right. He said once about me having an ethereal mind: “For you, words are real.” It is very true. They mean very much to me; it was always disappointing when I would ask J to write something for me and he never would. So it goes.

Now I’m just measuring intimacy in words–and how much variation there is in the quality I receive!

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