Awwwwwwww hell. I'm sitting here
pouting. Thinking of him. He's the best thing that ever happened to
me that actually never really was. The stuff of country and western
angst. Excuse me, I think I've got a heartache... He sent me a
message a few days before he planned to visit. I had blocked off a chunk
of my busy schedule and was looking forward to seeing him. We were
going to fall into each other's arms, kissing like movie-stars in the
park at sunset, spending an entire weekend in the throes of a
glorious fling pleasing each other from head to toe. But not anymore.
Oh well. Why? Because he got a call from “The One Who Got Away...”
Clarification time. Flings are like
roller coaster rides. Roller coaster rides are fast fun, but everyone
knows they never last more than three minutes. You see it looming on
the horizon, run over and wait, anticipation building, and then ride
it for all it's worth! Nobody ever gets off a roller coaster crying!
You just enjoy it while it lasts, get off smiling, and move right
along. This is a "high fun over low emotional investment" situation. Just a few big temporary thrills, nothing much to lose if
you buckle up and ride safe. Happy go-lucky sluttery for the win!
Honestly, this relationship never
progressed beyond “friendship with occasional but extremely intense
benefits.” I adore him. We're magnetically attracted to each other
physically, but he lives far away and we rarely have time to talk
about things besides where he'd like to put his cock. Second of all,
let me say that I'm crying in my beer right now because I wanted his full attention and sexual energy for a limited time only and it's clear
that I'm not going to get that. Really this is a pretty minor
disturbance in the overall force. Life goes on. There's other guys
out there tripping at the chance for a fling with Captain Sex Kitten,
but that's beside the point. Wanting what we can't have - pining for
something that can't be, instead of dusting off and carrying on,
seems to be a universal drama. We've all done it and we'll all do it
again. We just can't get stuck there. This guy actually did me a huge favor by NOT coming to see me
and then turning around and running back to “the one who got away.”
I don't need to go there. That's his business, not mine.
About “The ONE who got away...”?!
Wow. Half of my heart viscerally rejects this idea, calling trashy
romance novel bullshit. The other half of my heart longs for legendary love and eats up romantic trash. I can
gleefully envision my friend ending up with the girl of his dreams.
They will fall into each other, kiss like movie stars in the park at
sunset. I can be genuinely happy for him and wish him luck. I
appreciate more than anything his honesty, sensitivity to my
feelings, and integrity in explaining the entire situation. He
treated me as a true friend, with respect, even when telling me
something he knew I didn't want to hear. I know it was hard for him to resist these charms. I respect his decisions.
Somewhere out there there's a tall,
tattooed bruiser looking for a tough, loyal sex kitten. This idea
tickles my fancy, there's no denying it. When the time is right, we
will join forces and the universe will be sexier than ever before.
But in the meantime, I'm open to the next big fling. Always one foot
forward and one foot back with a whiskey flask in each boot. Moving
on....
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