Shedding a tear is intimate.
Thomas (aka Vincent) and I dined, drank, and smoked cigars last night. It was our second date, and consequently our most intimate one.
The first one (please see the post “Loving Men-Vincent”) was about bodies. How they reacted to others. The growling of physical passions; the mountaneous peaks rising, then edging back to quiet valleys; the launch of lust erupting; and finally gooseflesh and bedspeak.
But last night and early this morning was different, intimate. We listened and sang to Janis Joplin, Fleetwood Mac, Collabro, and Kristin Chenowith. And we cried to some; intimate.
Any two people can have sex. But intimacy is rooted in a trust discovered by lovers and blessed by heaven.