I dreamt about us yesterday morning...that it was a few months into our unlikely pairing. And you whisked me away to Barcelona because you knew I fell in love with Spain when I visited Malaga, Picasso's birth town, a while back. Our first night in Barcelona, you took me to the cutest, almost-secret little tapas bar in Las Ramblas that only the locals know about. They sat us at an intimate table and we laughed all night...drinking Tempranillo, my favorite Spanish wine. And Spanish wine has a thing about making me feel so happy and in love...Like you.
Yes you...let's get to you. You had never looked so dorky until that night. With your glasses. And you somehow thought it would be "neat" to grow out your sideburns. You said you were in disguise. But every time you looked at me or touched my knees - I wanted to pull you by the neck into my lips. It was a hot May night in Barcelona and all I had on was a black tank top and high-waisted pants, a little bit of blush and you had already kissed away all of my red lip stain. But you said I looked like a goddess. I thought you were crazy, but you made me feel what you felt about me. I saw myself the way you saw me. And it was intoxicating as hell...
And then, the dream ended...
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