The following is an abstract piece that gives a brief look into the world of romance from my perspective. Normally, I don’t talk about anything remotely romantic on here, unless it pertains to food.

However, I feel that someone, somewhere will be able to relate to these little motifs of romantic calamity.

Ideally, this post is meant to provide insight, empathy, humor, and possibly hope. Well, maybe not hope. Also, this entire piece will carry an air of anonymity for the many reasons I’m too lazy to list right now.

So without further ado, let the written stream of consciousness ensue.

ROMANCE NUMBER ONE

First of all, I ranked you number one. Shouldn’t that have counted for something? Couldn’t I have been ranked the same in your world, if only out of common courtesy? Asshole.

At first things seemed to be progressing smoothly. There was no thrill of wait between our bodies, but surely a hold on laying all our emotional cards on the table. Whether you choose to admit it or not, you hate me. I cannot imagine another reason for your treatment of me throughout the brevity of this “situationship”.

There’s always this judgement that masks itself as jest. Everything I do, say, post is always up for critique. I am always being analyzed and evaluated for ways in which I can be deemed imperfect. Why? Because it’s how I initially viewed you.

Admittedly, when we first met I thought you were too good for me. You possess the kind of beauty that would make mere mortals go mad by bestowing them with the tiniest bit of attention; you were ethereal. During the beginning, I had to view you in a slightly unpleasant light, if only to give myself the confidence to pursue you.

So I made a joke, innocent yet subconsciously on purpose. It wasn’t to belittle you, to hurt you, to lower your self-esteem. It was to help you admire me in another light. You see, I thought that one day, you’d look at me and get bored of what you saw.

Hence, I made that joke. Maybe you liked funny? Maybe humor was going to win you over? Oh boy was I wrong. What followed was repressed resentment, the guise of like, tolerance. Sometimes I honestly feel you only keep me around to get back at me for uttering the words that broke your fragile ego.

Perhaps, it’s just my paranoia talking again. It tends to gab a lot when it comes to this romance thing. But what can you do when you’ve got a hunch the size of Africa? For what it’s worth number one, I’m sorry. For the umpteenth time I am sorry. Sorry I made a joke. Not sorry that it was FUCKING hilarious.

ROMANCE NUMBER TWO

Quite frankly, you always should have been number one. Ever since meeting you you’ve been a pillar of positivity. Talking with you comes as naturally as breathing.

Trust, that means a lot coming from me. I’m usually very cold to this romance thing. But through your proper grammar you find a way to expedite the warming up process.

You appreciate my mind and make your feelings for me emphatically clear. Something that still takes some getting use to. There’s hardly any mystery, so my paranoia is often lost for words.

So why aren’t we together? Well I think this one has more to do with me than it does you. The answer is simple. Fear.

There’s the fear that our romance will just turn out to be another tempestuous clusterfuck. Because I fear I’ll be the one who’ll have to do everything outside the realms of emotional support.

Additionally, there’s the fear of losing you as a friend. No matter what’s going on with me, I feel safe sharing with you. What happens if we split for good? I’ll have to keep my thoughts and ideals captive in my mind like liitle lonely prisoners.

Moreover, I can’t deny the fear of having almost everything I want in a partner. Funny, dainty, polite, intellectual, you actually get my kickass SpongeBob SquarePants references.

Clearly I have more work to do on myself before I muster the courage to be with you. Not saying that you should wait. Yet part of me knows it’s all still too soon.

Especially since I’ve seen the less than perfect sides of you that scare me. Mostly because they mirror the kinds of destructive habits I’m personally still working through. Aloofness, complete and utter alienation, emotional foreclosure.

I’ve also gotten a taste of how critical you can be. How deep your words can pierce my flesh with just a few adjectives. It’s scary to think of the kind of state such destruction could leave me in when shit really hits the fan.

Notwithstanding, we’ll see what the future holds. But for now, we’re pretty much layaway lovers.

NUMBER THREE

I deluded myself into thinking that we were on the precipice of being something. Finally, I think I’ve come to the bitter realization that there’s nothing there for me. Just a few laughs, great smile, and a pretty face.

At first I thought my verbal hesitance was only because I didn’t want to ruin the calming effect of you talking. However, I’ve realized it’s because my inner-most thoughts simply don’t matter to you. Mostly what matters to you is you. You’re a vain, ego-driven………goat.

You paint yourself as this impressively, immersive individual. But really, you’re damn right shallow. Boring, if I’m being honest. Seriously, a brilliant mind like me would be doing myself a disservice by romantically pursuing you any further. Nevertheless, I never viewed you as a bad person.

That said, yes! You can still get it number three. Like Solange would sing, “even on the way to the show.”

LOL. What is my life?

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