It wasn’t the way he touched me, it was the way he talked to me.
It was the way that he looked at me, wanting to connect with me mentally.
It was the questions he asked me in return the time he put in studying me, willing to learn.
It was him repeating what I said to get a better understanding and to clarify.
It was the effort he made to get my attention even though he was shy.
It was the fact that he became my Webster dictionary. I went to him for the meaning of words chile!
It was the one paragraph I would send and he would send three back, voice audio style.
It was him actively, passionately, listening.
Taking off my shoes, opening my doors. Got me wanting to change my last name from Moore.
This was a real man!
I appreciated his presence and whenever I was available, he had time.
The thing about it is, it was never physical, it was always the mind.
I fell in love with him verbally.
The way he challenged me..
I craved the way he made me think.. the way he educated me. The way he made me feel as a woman, mentally.
And that’s what I Love the most.
It was so perfect because he was an intellectual and I’m a sapiosexual.