"Why can't you just be real with me?"
I tried starting up a new, secret blog, but it just wasn't doing it for me. I've come back to what I know, to who I am, and I apologize, my dear blog, for abandoning you in the first place. Forgive me?
He was tall, very tall. He told me that he was six feet, three inches, which made him well over a foot taller than me. He was smart, in a disconcerting way, but didn't brag about the fact that he had two patents under his belt. I wanted to brag about his two patents, and talk about the fact that he even had a patent was because he invented something. Hello, Thomas Edison, what else do you have up your sleeve? The only things I've invented are rude words, and I don't think it's something to be proud of.
We would text every day, and give each other a play-by-play of what we were doing on the hour, every hour. In the very early hours of New Year's Day, he phoned me just as I was drifting off to sleep and we talked about our separate evenings. He was in Idaho, you see, spending time on the mountain skiing, his one true love. I asked him that night if he liked me (I was still drunk enough to not care about asking such a stupid question), and he replied, "what are we, in the tenth grade?"
Yes, we are. Now answer my question.
He told me that he did like me, and I, of course, believed him.
After he returned and we were able to spend some time together without having to use our iPhones, I wasn't sure how I felt. Did I like him? Well, I was sure I liked him; he was a perfectly nice gentleman. He held doors open for me, helped put on my jacket, and paid for our meals out together. He was smart, and I was comfortable around him, but there wasn't....a belly flop.
The belly flop, I believe, is essential when determining that I fancy someone. The goosebumps I get when their name flashes on the screen of my phone, or the constant ache in the pit of my stomach waiting in traffic when I'm on the way to their house. It's what makes it real, it's how I know that I care.
With this tall, bearded man, there wasn't a belly flop. I thought there might be, but now looking back I think I just invented a belly flop so that I could have someone to be torn up about in the late night hours. True, we got along alright, and yes, we were very good with each other in between the sheets, but as far as just being with each other, there was a lacking of something necessary to make me care, to make me want to share my hopes, my dreams, my inner most private thoughts with him. That feeling wasn't there, and I think that's what makes me the most sad, now we no longer speak to each other.
There is a part of me that is begging, crying out to find someone that I can romantically be with and share all of my life with them. I don't know why this feeling exists inside of me, and why I'm okay with it running rampant throughout my body as I wander from one day to the next, but alas, there it is. There is a desperate need I have to really be with someone, to have them know me like no other person has known me before, and I'm so ready to embrace this part that I've ignored and shoved aside for so long.
The other half of me is obviously disgusted with the fact that Relationship Sam has been let out of the closet, and only wishes to shove her back from whence she came and throw away the key. Relationships? Gross. What happened to being an independent woman, huh? What happened to using men for sex only, and nothing else? What about spending time on figuring out who I am as a person, and making time to fulfill other life dreams? I don't want to get lost inside of some man and forget that I'm a person with needs too. Relationships are bullshit, okay? They don't get you anywhere in life except to the couch with a bowl of strawberry ice-cream and a stack of romcom movies on repeat in your DVD player. It's enough to make me gag.
Two very opposing sides that I float in between, trying to find an equal balance. Of course now there is no longer a man of any kind, tall, bearded or otherwise, and I'm back to square one of simply being happy with myself, with what I have, and trying not to dwell for too long on all the reasons why we would have never worked. There was a spark that never flickered for us, and it's a shame as well. He ticked many boxes on my list, except the most crucial one: no belly flop.