When I became a proper Christian it was with wonder and fear. Of my totality of connection to Creation and all therein. And what the fuck I was supposed to do now (including the fear of STILL thinking/saying “fuck”).
Wonder of God – yes. Fear of God – no!
(that was reserved for my fellow Christians)
It was a similar cocktail when Mrs (to-be) Paul and I agreed we were an item. Wonder of someone I fancied! Instant fear of farting … speaking in my sleep … eating too much … doing the wrong things!
And then time kicks in.
The first fart (and then farting together). The first constricted silent poo (and then the pooing together). That inevitable drift from “holding it all in” to letting it all out – to “being ourselves”.
Which still wasn’t.
Because along the way we found each other’s “hot buttons”. And…
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