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…of having to pretend I’m made of stone. So I won’t end up with no broken bones. I can’t fight every battle alone.”~Weary by Amel Larrieux
It’s starting to weigh on me, this solitude. When does solitude become an unwelcomed thing? Increasingly these days I long to be held. cared for deeply. At what point do I just put up with a nigga just to have somebody?
I know what I am looking for, but often can’t articulate it because it’s a feeling. I will know it when i feel it. Worthwhile dates are scarce. Should I just start serial dating, even if I’m not remotely interested? Maybe that’s why I prolong the misery instead of putting Old Yeller down. I just want the possibility to have a maybe one day even though I’d made up my mind on the 2nd phone call that he ain’t for me. He doesn’t touch my heart or spirit in anyway. Why do I even call? Why do I even answer? Just to have someone to talk to I guess.
Then sometimes you go out on a limb. You try something new because what you been doing aint working at all. You entrust youself to the whims of a stranger. It’s fun. It’s different. It’s late on a work night and this rock star lifestyle is a bitch. But you willinglu take the chance ’cause you’ve got an itch. This is differnt from the last time. I’m acutally nervous. I am more free. Allowing myself to just enjoy the company. Letting things go a little further than you’d planned because it felt good to be wanted. Felt good to know you still got it. And when the night wouldn’t end I stepped outside of my comfort zone and went to his place (with the prerequisite of no sex, of course). But it was a departure from my usual careful, calculating, overly cautious self. And once again, it felt good to be wanted, even if it was for sexual gratification…that got watered down to sensual gratification. It was exciting, it was dangerous…and I liked it. A side of myself I rarely let out because it could lead to too much fun having and carelessness. I have a feeling that this could have a tumultuous undercurrent of adventure and passion. This could be war.
And then I find myself being a chick and thinking way too much. I shudder at the thought..hadn’t done that in years. Some of that seemingly smiling for no reason kind of shit. But for all of my imaginative exploits there is no way of knowing for sure. I left the ball in his court and I don’t want to come across needy or thirsty. What do you do when you don’t want to let the best chance you’ve had in years slip through your fingers? Is this even a chance at all? Is it all in my mind. Just my luck, probably.
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