You kind of know it, sometimes. The way the conversation flows, the ease you feel with someone you’ve met for the first time. The way the laughter crinkles their eyes, and you know this is someone you feel comfortable with.
And yet, due to circumstances, and geographical differences, and all sorts of reasons, it most likely never will work out to anything more. I’ve had it with long distance things.
On a happier note, I got to introduce someone to Operation Dagger (I love the place!) and we got to chill out at the rooftop bar above The Screening Room. And oh, yes, I suppose it’s my birthday in a few minutes. 🙂
With your soft Austin accent and piercing eyes. With your slicked back red hair and those hoops in your ears.
So driven in your work, it’s somewhat inspiring. And yet, it’s always an excuse. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I know what you’re not looking for – me.
For some reason – even though I didn’t ever have feelings for you – I decided to wait till you returned. I deceived myself into thinking you were someone that you’re not. I’m no longer making excuses. This ends here, now.
I’ve been talking with a nice boy (DanishBoy) from Tinder. He was on a transit in Singapore. I was bored. We chatted. We exchanged numbers. We flirted. He is nice, he is safe, he is fun to talk to, he is everything that Dear DJ was not. He reminds me of Christian, although a tad less-dramatic, more-playerish munk.
Until yesterday when DanishBoy opened up to me about his past and we had one of those borderline deep and meaningful talks. And I felt the shell crack a little. It’s no longer all superficiality and I’m afraid.
I never knew until now that I had commitment issues. Even though we’ve never met, I find it difficult to open up. Hmm. I’m still leery about Tinder – fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, well you know how the saying goes…
Time to reflect and think about how to repair my damaged psyche. ;x
We found each other on Tinder. And you were witty and kinda fun to chat with for awhile on whatsapp. So you put me on the guestlist to your gig, and like any groupie I fell for it (shouldn’t Tinder have been a warning sign?).
You have the face of an angel, the golden locks that Michael himself would sport, you have a wide smile that sometimes looks like a mean lopsided smirk, but inside – you have very dark tastes that pushed me beyond anything I was comfortable with.
You should have listened when I said no. Because No should never be a No that can be changed to a yes.
You have taught me that despite your smarts, despite your looks, douche is as douche does. And that I prefer my men dark of hair, not dark of character.