Masterminx

To me, falling in love is like shopping for clothes. You try on whatever catches your eye, but you only take home one outfit. The rejected items are the ones that make you look ridiculous, or make you feel uncomfortable. They don't flatter your figure--they point out your fat ass to the world--they don't go with anything you already have, or they require too much special maintenance. But, until you've tried them on and found those faults, you love them for however brief a moment.

I fell in love with a guy my age who lives in North Carolina. He is everything I have ever wanted in a guy so far as I can tell. There are two problems: the first should be obvious--he's in fucking North Carolina. The second problem is that I require feedback, or I assume disinterest and move on. I don't get feedback. When I do get to talk to him, he says incredibly sweet and caring things to me. Of course, that is only about once per week (as opposed to every night, like it used to be) since the other complication has entered my life.

I met another guy. A smart, funny, very polite gentlemanly type of guy. He's kind of the whole package, in terms of the things your mother would want for you. He's also hung. Quite so--and if your mother really cared about you, she'd want that for you, too. I haven't had to cook, or buy dinner, light my own cigarette, or buy\\ my own cigarettes (!), buy my own drinks, or \\pour my own drinks, or any other host of courtesies since I met the guy. So, what could possibly be the problem? He "loves" me. Do you have your stopwatches out, kids? Because I'll outline it for you.

~~Thursday night: We chat for the first time. We agree to go out on Friday.
~~Friday night: I am too drunk to drive home, and therefore unable to meet him. We chat until 2 am or so, then he gets a cab and we go to breakfast. We walk back to my place, and fall asleep on the floor while watching a movie.
~~Saturday night: We get a little bit drinked. He gets trashed. Whips out the "L" word. Somehow, it has stayed around since then.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Am I just that good? That's two guys--actually three (North Carolina, Eric, and this one)-- professing love in less than one week after meeting me. I must have some sort of special radar.

And I love every one of them, in my own way, for however brief a time.
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