This could sound so terribly wrong, but I need to say it. I’m sometimes an overly passionate lover. And all I’m looking for is someone who is the same. I need a lifetime with a lover who realizes that sex isn’t all about an orgasm. And that if anyone should orgasm first, it should be me. I need someone, as cliche as this sounds, who gets jealous at the thought of someone else kissing my lips or hearing my moans. That the way I squirm or shudder beneath him becomes his signature carved into the curves of my skin. I need someone who can have sex when he’s angry or frustrated or jealous; because sex isn’t always about love, or at least, it shouldn’t. I need him to know how to set the pace. If it should be fast or slow or both. I need him to know that the bedroom isn’t the only option. I need him to kiss me so deeply that my pores close up, my heart races and my toes arch. I need him to realize that I am human and inevitably I will flirt with someone else. And the jealousy he feels keeps us alive with his fury when we go to bed that night. I need us to cherish each other in the most raw form. And that no matter what, we always tell each other the truth. I need us to spend a lot of time away from each other; because that makes us long for togetherness. I need him to need this too. Because if he doesn’t, I don’t know how much I can take of lying lifeless beneath a man for a lifetime.