You know those random romantic/sexy moments that make you grin like a fool?  Your heart flutters and your breathing quickens and you get the urge to squeal, even if you’re in public?

I had one of those the other day…  It was a long day that included a 22-hour shift and I was generally just trying to suck it up and make it through the lameness of work.  And I got this email, completely out of the blue:

You know what I miss? You cleaning off my cock after I piss.

Rawr!  *squeal-wiggle-grin*

I miss it too.

Kinks?  I haz them.

But what I really miss is not just the act…  It’s the feelings that go with proof-positive displays of intimacy and slavery (yeah, yeah, even though I’m *not* a slave, blah).

I experience a depth of emotion that is, simply put, different, when I actually DO something I say I want/will do.  Before I ever cleaned him off after he pissed, I promised him (in so many words) “I will kneel beside you while you’re pissing, and wait until you’re done, wait until you take my hair in your hands and yank my face toward you.  I’ll lick and suck the bitter, foul drops of urine until all I can taste is you.”

And I meant it.   I really did.   It was a rush to think about, to imagine, to say, to promise, to *know* it was true. But if it was a rush to say it, it was a fucking tidal wave to DO it.

And that is such a teeny tiny act in the scope of things.

It got me thinking about the bigger acts.  Antonio always, ALWAYS says: “Actions speak louder than words.”  He is right, of course, without a single doubt in my mind.  Words are beautiful and emotions intense. Promises and avowals are powerful and deep.  But actions?  Well, hell, they’re just better.

I have seen things that have given me unshakable faith in that fact.

People use so many words.  And they think they mean them.  They swear they do.  People stand in churches before their families, friends, their partner and their God and swear eternal devotion. And weddings are beautiful things, don’t get me wrong.  Those verbal commitments, the love, the promises, are all fab-u-lous.

But I’ve seen something better.

I’ve watched a woman drag cushions off a couch in a hospice and place them on the floor beside her dying husband …  I’ve watched her lower his hospital bed all the way and curl up on those cushions so she could sleep  while holding his hand through the night, every night, during his final weeks …   I watched weight fall off her because she couldn’t bear to eat when he couldn’t … I watched her fight unimaginable emotions as he broke out of his unconsciousness in the middle of the night from pain so intense  they didn’t have pain killers that could even take the edge off …  I watched her stay strong by his side as cancer ate his bones and lungs and brain and stomach until he was a shell of a human being, struggling past endurance for every single breath …  I watched her gently shake her husband every time his breathing slowed in those last few days, desperate not to lose him …  I watched the pain and resolve in her face when, one day, she started to reach out to shake him and pulled her hand back at the last minute because she knew it was kinder to let him go …  I took the call from her at 11:30pm the next night, telling me he had died …  After I hung up, I crawled back into bed with her (and his) two little girls, six and ten years old, my Godsisters and watched them sleep, fatherless …  I held the younger one in my arms the next morning, while the older one sat on her mother’s lap, as this amazing woman told them their daddy went to heaven and promised them he wasn’t hurting anymore.

…

A decade and a half ago I watched her stand in church beside that man and  say, “’Til death do us part.”

And three years ago I watched her lie on the cold, hard floor beside that same man and live it.

…

When you’ve seen something like that?  You know with a certainty beyond reproach that actions speak louder than words.