Page 338 of S is for SEX

I blinked my eyes.

“You’re going with me to my parent’s tomorrow night. That’s that. I’m going to introduce you to them. I’ve told you about the dinners. It’s a cluster fuck, but it’s a big part of who I am. It’s family time, and family is important. So, shorts and Chuck’s will be the attire and we’re taking the Chevelle,” he smiled.

I’m. In. Love. With. This. Man.

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” I smiled, “And thank you.”

“For?” he asked.

“Trusting me not to fuck you over,” I responded.

He smiled and blinked his eyes a few times, “You know, I been thinkin’ about how to describe something, and I can’t get there.”

“What is it?” I asked through tear filled eyes.

I know going to a family dinner to most women would be nothing. But they wouldn’t appreciate and understand the significance of it the way I did and do. As he twisted his mouth in circles and looked at the ceiling in deep thought, I tried to think of other things to keep from allowing a tear to fall down my cheek. I had waited a lifetime for Mike Ripton, and I truly felt I could spend forever with him. On top of the comforter with my head on his chest I would be happy for all of eternity.

“Well, how I feel about you. I don’t know how to tell you what I want to say. You know people feel affection for other people. And people fall in love and such, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Well, the way I feel about you. It’s just. Well, it’s weird. It’s so much more than that. To call it love would be kind of cutting it short. I need a word to describe it, and there isn’t one. One don’t exist. At least not yet,” he tilted his head to the side and smiled.

Until now, the word love had not escaped our mouths. In a sense, he just said it. My eyes began to well up again.

“Well,” I hesitated.

It was all I could say without looking like a fool.

The sex, emotions, exhaustion and the conversation we were having. The word love. It was all simply more than I could take. Sometimes I suppose girls are just girls.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess what I want to say is this. I love you, Vivian. I want you to know that. I love you. But it ain’t enough. It just ain’t. I can’t use a word every other shit-head uses to describe how he feels about a woman. It wouldn’t be fair to you, because you make me feel so much more. More than love. I need my own word,” he smiled.

I’m going to lose it. He’s adorable.

“Pizz,” he said as he nodded his head.

“What?” I choked on my words as I almost began to cry.

“Pizz. That’s it. Understand I love you, Vee. But I pizz you,” he chuckled as he looked down at me.

“Pizz?” I grinned.

“Yep. I just made it up. A new word. It’s like love, only stronger. It’s more,” he said as he pressed his chin to his chest and kissed my forehead.

“Pizz, I like it,” I said as a tear escaped my eyes and ran down my cheek.

When men speak to women in a sweet manner, a part of us typically wonders just how much of it is true and how much is bullshit. I believe subconsciously, all of us wonder. As the tear ran down my cheek, dripped off my chin and onto his chest, he reached over and wiped my face with his finger.

“Vivian Simon, I love you. But always know this,” he paused.

“I pizz you. And no one else on this earth has that, baby,” he whispered.

And a tear ran down his cheek.

And at that moment, I knew.

This wasn’t bullshit.

And.

I pizzed him too.

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