So here are the ramblings of a mildly intoxicated woman. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I know this should make a proper post, with the formalities; the preamble, the body, the conclusion and all of that but quite frankly, that's not gon' happen tonight.
I'm going to rant just as it is on the tip of my tongue. I really do hate this part right here. This ritual, this dance, this weird awkward dance where you wait for him to make his move before you make yours, and the move he makes determines which one you'll make. It's rather frustrating. You want to let your hair down, let go, let loose, be free. You want to lose all control and dance. But you can't. Because if you do (you're worried) he'll wonder if you're ok upstairs. You're worried he'll freak out and run away. You're worried you'll scare him away.
So you stay and while you want to lose yourself in the feverish moves of the Rumba, you stay dancing a tentative slow dance. So tonight I rant about *Marcus, who pursued me with such eager tenacity, yet the moment I began to reciprocate his affection, he lost his balance and fled.
Damn I hate this whole weird dance! Why can't I love and express my love? Why must I be subjected to suppressing my feelings, or concealing them? What's up with guys who go all out to get your time, love and affection and the minute they have it they suddenly cannot stand the very sight of you and then they flee?
And when he fled my heart became hardened. It's been sometime and now he tries to thaw my frozen heart, to worm his way back. He's gone some extra miles and made some grand gestures. Friends say give him a second chance and I find I'm no longer so averse to it. Those old feelings that I put to sleep are being awakened. But I'll be honest I'm worried. So now I have to dance his dance even though it kills me:
When he calls I should sound disinterested and bored, act like he's disturbing me.
When we go out I'm to act like I'd rather be somewhere else, with someone else and I'm just doing him a favour.
When I miss him I'm never to show it. I dare not call him, or if I must I'll have to say it was a pocket dial; "oh sorry, my phone dialed your number by mistake".
When I want to see him I .... oh no, I'm not supposed to want to see him. My bad.
When I crave some human contact I better look else where because I'm not supposed to have needs.
When I need that companionship, a listening ear, a warm body, a soft touch, a long slow kiss, a hug, and I need these from him, I better numb the feeling because I'm not supposed to have feelings. Feelings are a sign of desperation, neediness, weakness... And those are unattractive traits which would ultimately shoo him away.
If I fail at any of these then I lose him again, yes?
You know what? Fuck it. (Whether or not you pardon my French) I'm so over things like that. I'm over playing games and acting like I don't care. I'm over counting how many characters are in my text; less than 10 is appropriate, 20 or more makes me seem desperate.
I'm over acting like I don't care when I really do, or acting like I don't want to be with him when I really want to. I'm over acting like he doesn't mean anything to me when he does.
I'm so over all of it.
And because I hate this part so much, I'm grown enough to realize that I don't have to deal with it. I need and deserve someone, a real man, who's willing and able to deal with, handle and appreciate the feelings of a woman. Yes, that much I deserve.
And with this final thought I can sleep easy. Moving on....
Goodnight my loves.