There is a moment—Oh, just before the first kiss, a whispered word—something that makes it worth while.
No word from Nancy yesterday, I’m thinking she’s ghosted me. Perhaps that is for the best, I think she may have sensed that I was put off a bit by her and she deserves a man that can appreciate her better than I.
I had a time chatting with a girl from Tinder. She’s visiting for spring break and staying with a girlfriend. Turns out she and her girlfriend are bi and looking for a guy to have fun with in a threesome. But, I got turned off when she said I’d need to “earn” her phone number, after that, figured I’d have some fun with the conversation at least. When I asked what she was looking for, she told me she couldn’t tell me that I’d need to be creative, so, of course, I launched into a discussion of arts and crafts.
Probably she is wanting me to make her swoon with details of what I plan to do to her and her friend, but I’m not sure I want to put that effort in to probably have no return. If she was really interested, I’m sure she would have already given me her number. Maybe if I get bored this afternoon I might play around with her a bit more, see where it goes. I’m not particularly interested in having a threesome though I wouldn’t be opposed to it.
There are moments you feel you are the cusp of letting your dreams fly away with you. Is it wisdom to clip their wings and return to the earth? It seems meaning always eludes one’s grasp. As soon as you apprehend it you open your hand to look, only to find it has vanished like a magician’s trick. I can’t decide if having a passionate romance is my strongest desire or my greatest fear. Sometimes I think it is my strongest desire to fall hopelessly in love with someone again, like I did with Sierra, but my greatest fear that this time, they might love me back. Would I turn everything upside down, hurt and destroy those I love now for a taste of that ambrosia? Which path would be courage, which cowardice? I keep going round and round only to come back to myself. I think I’m realizing why I catch feelings so easily now: I am a dreamer. I suppose it should have been obvious, but I fall in love with my own fantasies and desires to the point that I have difficulty separating the external reality from my own internal self. And I let myself do it, I’m a junkie for it, craving the high that comes from indulging the hopeless romantic within me. I often believe romantic love is just our animal nature fooling us, a survival instinct to ensure procreation, perhaps nothing more. I waffle between desiring purely sexual, physical encounters to wanting more, but then I fear what will happen if I fly too close to the sun with these wings made of wax. Maybe romance is only a reflection of yourself and your desires projected onto another person, a positive feedback loop only broken when the harshness of reality gets in the way. Can it last? Or is it doomed as the illusion it is? Does that make it any less worthwhile?