I love men.
I love their arms,
their legs (athletic ones).
I love the way they smile when they like me.
I love the way their hand touches,
attentively, the small of my back,
as they usher me through a door of a restaurant
to a car,
out of some kind of "danger."
I like kissing them too.
Yes, I said THEM.
I like how their breath feels on my face.
Or the roughness of their fingers as they stroke my face.
I like their deep voices.
Their assured walks.
And I like myself with them.
I like how I, at 45, feel confident when I am with them.
I like how I know that I am a "good catch" that includes my kids!
I like how I know what I want.
I like how my kids, my work and myself are more important than any of them.
I like the way I laugh when I like one of them.
I like that I am Kim Hamer,
and no, not your lover.....yet.
I like how I don't think about Art but all of this is because of him.
His love for me oozes out of me and I morph into everything he thought I was.
I like that I don't have to worry if they don't put the toilet seat down.