Let's just forget about the fact that it's been too, too long since I've posted.
We're such good friends that it really doesn't matter, right? Like high school girlfriends from years past, we can pick up right where we left off.
Valentine's Day is next week. I have a love/hate relationship with it. When in a relationship, I'm whimsical and romantic. When I'm single, I want to sit in a dark room, drink wine, and watch slasher movies. When I'm caught between being in a relationship and single, I find myself constantly questioning just how much Valentine's Day attention is appropriate.
This is exactly where I find myself as I've been lavishing in the quiet but exciting torture of "courting" a man I would most definitely like to call mine this year. Both of us are pretty intent on not making any drastic moves too quickly, however, so there is a very quiet, delicate dance that I think we're in the midst moving through. Broken hearts force us to tread carefully, don't they?
As mentioned, I have a history of being the whimsically romantic guy. Not to mention, of course, that my love life is dictated specifically by Murphy's Law, so I know not to hold on too tight as far as planning and preparation are concerned. So as the weekend draws near - when the Valentine's activities would likely materialize - I wonder what the hell I'll end up pulling out of my hat. Most often, I'll go simple. Understated. Like a cut out picture of a heart in my hands or a single rose atop a warm casserole dish with something mind-bogglingly delicious inside. Throughout time the adage remains true that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach...I ain't no fool.
So, here I remain, carrying on delicately with a guy to whom some of my friends have said I sent mixed messages. Other friends have said not much else in the way of anything helpful at all, and mostly roll their eyes as they listen to another story about yet another guy. On one hand, I'm not sure if any kind of attachment is what I should get myself into given that my career is now finally starting to take off while miraculously I'm still being grossly underpaid. But on the other hand, my heart is ablaze in a passionate fire that rages, truly wanting only to have that simple conversation about taking the next step. Not a plunge. A step. Fiery passion about a single step. May sound ridiculous, but it's true.
Like a zipper, I need to find the best way to close this gap of ambivalence, joining my conflicting sides in a harmonious line that moves forward slowly, tooth by tooth. I'm not going to disappoint Cupid this year. My pants are down, you little fatso. Fucking poke me!