I’m not OK. Thought I was, but nope.
I went on a date the other night. My first real date in a very long time. He’s a writer/historian, speaks Spanish, is a professional traveler. On paper, my ideal man. In person, a really nice guy, fun to talk to, not too hard on the eyes. Overall, the date was not a disaster. There was no chemistry, but that wasn’t what I was after. I just wanted proof that there might be one or two decent human beings out there, and that my taste in men is not too far fetched. I was proven right. I have a chance at this one day.
But in the meantime, I don’t think I’ll be going on any more dates. I found that hour and a half of chatting with a stranger to be utterly exhausting, and I’ve been an emotional wreck ever since. I don’t want to make smalltalk. I want to share silence. I don’t want to hold my coffee and nod and agree. I want to hold your hand and feel our energy swirl together. I want to slow dance in the kitchen. I want to give you a foot rub when you get off of work. I want to curl up in your arms when I’m feeling lost and small. I don’t want to come home to someone. I want to come home to you.
So yeah, not OK. We’re not even talking. You’re just a blank page and a blinking cursor now. I hope that I didn’t just imagine you. I’ve felt a lot of different empties in my life, but I’m pretty sure this is the worst.