Saturday, Nov. 05, 2005 @ 7:36 pm
I sit on a stool at the island. I chop parsley, green seeping into the chopping board, and Daniel pours rice into a plastic measuring cup. Sip from a stoneware wine glass, Australian duty-free Shiraz. We travel deep into an analysis of ourselves, of relations, of love. I sigh, wishing somehow to regain innocence, virginity and experience un-jaded pure affection – the stuff of high school romances, of first kisses. He reassures me, describing how age brings experience and learning, mistakes of the past teaching us how to finally choose and relate to a true lifelong love.
I am not so much jealous or insecure; I am just sensitive.
The kitchen is candle-lit and the wine bottle is empty. Thick music surrounds the room in a piano dense fog. His face is close to mine. When do couples stop holding hands? When do they stop cuddling on the couch while watching a movie? Do you forget to? Do you at some point decide that it is inappropriate? Is it because people change as they age, or is it because they were never really that compatible in the first place? Is it all related to having children?
I stare into the last swill of wine in the brown pottery cup. It feels safe to look there.
I finally ask. You know how you put up with things in relationships because you want to, because you like the person and don’t want to seem too picky, superficial or uncaring? Do you feel like you are overlooking anything in spending time with me? Do you feel like you’re sacrificing something that you’d ideally want in a partner? I didn’t think he’d answer, but he immediately said “no”. True, it is the right answer, but does he honestly mean it?
I ache when I think about him. I’m also scared that I’m not ready for this. I’ve been boyfriend hopping for a year and a half, each relationship overlapping with the next. Am I truly being myself? I justify this by counting the months of being single – from the winter of ‘01/’02, when I escaped from a 1.5 yr relationship (and started this online diary as a way to not feel so alone) until the spring of ’04 when I realized my ability to attract and retain boyfriends.
This diary continues as an expository of lyric descriptions of my head-over-heels approach to relationships.
Heels now cooling, cold feet.