I’m still doing it.

This biding my time with guys who can’t commit (for whatever reason) because I’m too afraid to commit. Or at least, that's what it has to be, right?

Only, this time, I think it's let’s to do with what I’m afraid of having happen - heartbreak, hurt, disappointment - and more to do with the fact that I'm kind of waiting for something. Someone. (To be discussed later) And want it, them, so bad, that I’m deliberately not compromising its potential.

Like keeping my plate hella empty, so to speak. Or full, but with things that aren't mine to eat anyway. So like, I get to hold the plate, and smell it, and maybe even sneak a bite or two, but not eat it. Because it's not mine. But I know mine is coming, it's just still cooking.

That sounds kinda fucked up - but then, I think we're all kind of doing that these days. I'm just saying it out loud.

And I think that's improvement on some level, right?

But then you also can’t turn off feelings. So here I am, attaching myself to someone I know I shouldn't be getting attached to. Because he's great, to me, and open in a way I've never really experienced. But, not for me.

So then... why? And we've asked ourselves that. Why meet and connect on such a level with someone if not to be together? Whats the point, what's the lesson?

But then, my friend said something to me recently that totally got me thinking:
"Not all love is about ending up together."

As in, that's not always the purpose; and I think we think it is. Most of us anyway, most times. But, it's not. You can genuinely love someone, a man, a woman, romantically even, and not be meant to be. Just meant to love. And maybe, just to show them a different kind of love. A love to know, to experience, and aspire to. A healing love.

So maybe that's what this is was. Maybe he's a lesson in good love, after my lesson in bad love. To let me believe in it again. To show me that openness and vulnerability and honesty both with myself, and someone else is in the end rewarded, and the right way to be. Because somewhere along the line, I stopped believing that. I got hurt, and scared and closed up like bulb.


What is it about guys who are committed being the only ones brave enough to step up and say what they want? I mean, it feels like finding a fearless single guy is virtually impossible. But a committed one? That’s child's play. Married, engaged, seriously dating, "seeing" (whatever any of that means these days) - they have no fear. Maybe because they know the risk of not? Of being in something that's not quite the right fit, but feeling the weight of history and responsibility?

Hmmm, history, that's an interesting thought...

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