View Thinker #f5253f's profile thought 16 years, 7 months ago...

The way he is so concerned with offering his protection is strangely sexy.

It's not overbearing. I don't feel like he is being controlling, though I can see how another person could misconstrue his remarks as commands.

"If you want to drink, stay here, where I can watch out for you."

His concern makes me feel almost warm.

And maybe his advice is good. He can certainly make up for the stupidity caused by own insecurity. I've convinced myself that I don't need anyone to watch over me, that I'm not pretty enough to sexually assaulted.

Once, I said that I wasn't afraid to go to parties alone, because I didn't think that anyone would want me bad enough to try to take advantage of me. The person I was talking to looked at me like maybe he was trying to figure out if I was mentally handicapped.

The more I am around my protector, the more I think that "sexy" is the wrong word. Perhaps it would be right if he hadn't just started dating my good friend. I think instead "endearing" is a better choice, though this is not to imply that his consideration is naive. I'm just saying that I think his protective nature is more "cute" than "sexy." More charming than captivating.

He seems to have quickly turned from a romantic prospect to a "brother"ly figure. I find that I am having trouble describing this relationship. I use the term "brotherly" loosely, mostly to describe a male figure that is a necessary part of my life, who I am not afraid to be open with, who I am not afraid to touch, a person that I can be uncharacteristically comfortable with no matter what the situation.

It has been a long time since I have had someone be a "brother" to me.

But he is different. He plays with my hair in the way that makes me melt, makes me enter the dreamy surreal world right before sleep. He touches my back and I don't shy away cringing (which is much more than I can say for most people) and in fact, I like it when he rubs my back. I like the way he listens intently as I describe to him my experiences with PCOS. I love how he hands me my fourth and fifth ibuprofen and goes to fill a water bottle with me, because I just can't bring myself to stand and do it myself. I love when he walks with me back to my dorm, taking baby steps with me because I am in too much pain to walk a normal speed. And before I lay down to sleep, he hugs me and tells me goodnight.

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