We had been out a number of times. We had stood close in public places, fingers interlocking, beneath the stars and moon and sky. We had made out in parking lots at the close of the night. We flirted via text. I attended functions and made conversation with boring people on your behalf. You felt safe on my arm. You told me as much. I wasn't your type. You told me as much.
Rationalize it all away sweetheart......
My interest waned. As it always does. You had told me how active you are. Admittedly, you had more going on in your life than the unicorn rides, cupcakes, shopping , and martini night(s) that girls normally admit while claiming to have all this other stuff going on ( how else could they pretend they're too busy to see you on X night?).
Still....the conversation would lull, the dull sheen of reality intruding in my consciousness. That rare quality, my white whale, ever elusive. I could feel that quiet, that stifling blank space that would no doubt infiltrate any long term interaction. I went scurrying into the night like a roach from the light of the cave's entrance.
Only a couple times in the past few years have I seen that rare spark, my eyes falling upon something I had to pursue. ..................................
You accomplish things. The bar raises. Your tolerance increases. The ability to get that high from success becomes much harder to obtain. Girls overtly talking about you fucking them before it's even happened becomes blase. Passe even. Girls telling their friends how bad they want to fuck you despite having heard of your previous exploits. Expected. Girls stripping down to panties while you sit on a couch wishing only for sleep. Eyes roll.
So many girls....so little lust.
Good luck and happy hunting this weekend my faithful readership. A busy weekend lays in store. Helping promote my sport, refereeing a tournament, watching the fights and such other things. I bid thee well.