Im Just A Stupid Gay

“look at me.”

“you don’t get quiet when something’s wrong. you use your words. i need to hear you.”

“does this feel good, sweetheart? tell me.”

“i won’t guess. you’ll guide me. that’s how this works.”

“may i touch you here?”

“if you hesitate, i stop. immediately.”

“i want your yes. not your silence.”

“say it clearly for me. green, yellow, or red.”

“good girl. that’s it. always tell me.”

“you trust me because i make it safe to.”

“i’m in control, but you are never powerless.”

“if it stops being good for you, it stops. no questions. no disappointment.”

“your comfort is not optional.”

“you’re mine to guide, not to harm.”

Nightgown #1 - Pen version

(Pen on paper)

"probably not, but I'll make it"

holding any door without being asked. opening the car door and waiting. watching her slide in before i close it behind her. closing it gently after.

knowing her order before she’s finished looking at the menu. knowing exactly how she takes her coffee. having it ready before she’s asked. watching her face when i get it exactly right. knowing that she knows i’ve been paying attention. that i always pay attention.

being the one she looks at when her laces come undone. not because she can’t tie them herself. because she knows i’m already crouching down. already double knotting them. already making sure they won’t come undone again.

being the one she hands a jar to without a word. because she knows i’ll figure it out. because i always figure it out.

holding her coat open so she can slide her arms in. smoothing the collar down after. standing back and just looking at her.

walking on the outside of the sidewalk without thinking about it. every single time. without ever having to be reminded.

pulling her chair out at the restaurant. standing behind it until she’s seated. tucking it in just right.

being the one who spots the uneven ground before she does. hand finding the small of her back. guiding her past it.

remembering that she mentioned wanting to try that place three weeks ago. having a reservation when she’s forgotten she ever said it.

fixing her necklace clasp when it slips to the front. knowing she hates when it does that. already reaching for it before she notices.

holding the umbrella over her side when it rains. not mine. hers. always hers first.

being the one who pumps the gas so she doesn’t have to stand in the cold. bringing her a snack from inside without being asked because i have her gas station order memorized.

carrying every bag. all of them. every time.

knowing when a room is too loud for her before she says so. finding somewhere less overstimulating so she can regulate again.

that’s what i want to be for a femme. not just in the big moments. in all the small invisible ones too. the ones nobody else notices. the ones she notices. the ones that make her feel like someone is always. always paying attention.