I wish things were as simple and clear as they were back in 5th grade.
Back when getting tagged on the playground meant he liked you.
Back when getting a $1 carnation on Valentine’s Day meant he loved you.
You know… back when asking someone to be “exclusive” included a crumpled up piece of loose leaf and the order to “Circle one, YES or NO.”
But adult dating isn’t so clear and concise.
The words “commitment and exclusivity” bring fear rather than giggles.
A chick with a note demanding an answer is considered desperate instead of a go-getter.
And hell, a single carnation is an insult rather than a symbol of true love.
But sometimes I just wish that we still had 45 minutes at the end of everyday… to pretend we didn’t have any work to do and to pass a few notes.
Ahh yes... the days when boundaries and answers were circled with your favorite BIC pen... black, blue, or sometimes red.
But never gray... apparently that's the color for adulthood.
"Why are you sad?", he asked in a very blunt, yet calm way. He said it in the same way one would phrase, "Would you like a piece of gum?".
"Why are you sad?". Is this like when someone asks, say "How are you?"...
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Let me start off by saying, I think I am a pretty good catch. I can carry a rather compelling conversation. I don't cheat. I can be fun. Ok, now let me continue.
Ok. I am sometimes psycho. My neuroses could fill a book. I have these weird, manic "mood swings" out of nowhere.. sometimes once a year.. other times once a week. Emotional baggage is a set of ripped-at-the-seams bags I tote everywhere and plan on keeping. I always have something or other going on. I can be sometimes bluntly honest, which can be extremely complementing or horridly mean, neither do I ever intend.
I know most people are broken. I am too, and despite this knowledge, I think I am a good date. Casual romance, or even a lot of fun in the "getting to know you" stage. The real relationship stage though, is a real challenge.
It is kind of like being on a thrill ride. Extreme ups and downs. I am impossible to read. I can't even read myself. I do things, and I don't know why.
Sometimes I have a want to curl up in bed/on a couch with someone, but sometimes I shy away.I can be distant without meaning to.
He says that when he touches my face, I shy away. Or that I appear stiff and uncomfortable sometimes when he touches me. I want touch, but there's a reason my body reflexively repels it.
We were two of the most introspective people that I know. We both love to talk, and listen to each other. Sometimes though, it just ain't enough. Still want to date?
I felt nonexistent so I stopped coming to you and left enough space to see if you'd come to me.
You just stood there.
So I burnt the bridge.
But now that the ashes have washed away, I've created an island.
I'm a retard.
But I don't regret a thing.
When it really comes down to it, we're not that different at all.
All we want is a boy who will love us just as much as we'd love him. Someone who can take away all our worries with a smile. Someone who will hug us back with just as much sincerity and longing. Someone who will take minutes to piece together a sentence that will show a world of devotion.
A kiss, a whisper, anything that will prove he loves us and us alone.
It's a bit much to ask for at this age.
Deep down, all we want is to feel secure.
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It's good to be back, blogging. I've been MIA for quite a while - I've been up to a bunch of crazy things and my normal response would be: '--being a teenager and all.' Well, I suppose that holds a lot of truth. The relationship that had cushioned me and consumed me for the better part of this year, has ended.
We were a world out of sync. He was graduating with a master's in Law this Spring and headed for the world championships in Malaysia. A liberal man who was every bit the Casanova. Me? I'm a sixteen year old girl. He is a favorite mistake.
