So it’s been exactly 8 days since I went out on my second date in 10 years.
My lip has a kissing cold sore fighting to grow, I have chaffing on my chin, my body is in a constant state of desire and fatigue, my head a loved-up jumble.
He asked me out under the pretext of a production meeting, I gullible, naive and curious said yes.
He was all suave and leather, jitterbug quiff, an old-fashioned romantic and had a gift for the gab.
I liked him at once.
He took me out for coffee in an old TAB diner in Reservoir, and then we skipped town and didn’t come back for 4 days.
Longest date in history, we were battling for the record. Lost in a romantic loved up sick and randy haze. We had everything in common, We had the same horse in our room. 4 days later I left my toothbrush at his house.
I like synchronicities, I search for anomalies in someone, seeking parts of myself in a person to make me feel as if they were “The One”.
I hadn’t been touched intimately for 1 year, my friends were concerned I was going to grow old lonely and senile and die alone, but aren’t we all?
Its true, my singleness, nun exterior was becoming a problem, so much that I began to be scared of penis’s and felt like a virgin all over again. But my standards were high, higher than the Eifel tower, that it was hard to find someone remotely in that league and SINGLE.
But then, out of nowhere, he came, swept me off my feet, and I just wasn’t expecting that. I was looking for a fling, a love affair like the movies and picture books, someone to wine and dine me, take me to theatre, treat me like a queen, good old fashioned chivalry. My friends told me that didn’t exist no more, since the equal rights movement. But guess what, he came, and that’s just exactly what he did. I tried to be cool, stay cool now girl, don’t get lost in his scorpionic eyes, and his leather jacket, don’t get lost in his deep timbre voice and love of theatre, in his stories and damn charm. Don’t lose yourself now honey.
But truth be told that ain’t easy. When you share ultimate intimacy with another, exchange DNA and sweet nothings, how can you not fall……
He called me Bonnie I called him Clyde, he drove a motorbike, he romanced me like no other, wrote me gangsta poetry through text message, hired an alpha Romeo and took me to the Coburg drive-in, wine, chocolate, leather, (did I mention leather?!) dinner, breakfast, picnics, music… ohhhhhhhh he was sensual, dynamic, smooth talkin man
I was in a stupor of love.
I was leaving to the USA in 20 days and all of sudden I wanted him to come and ride horses into the sunset on Mexican beaches, drive from town to town in a pink Cadillac like Bonnie and Clyde. I thought maybe he was the one. And maybe he is…. And how do you let a good man go, once he’s in your fingertips? There doesn’t seem to be that many around so do you pounce while the goings happening?
My friends are jaded by matters of love, they date and fuck through the Internet, discarding men as inferior and only necessary in terms of sex. They no longer believe in love for being stuffed over too many times. They’ve been cheated on, hurt, lied to, and fucked over time and time again.
I, on the other hand, am still a believer, you could call me Charlotte from Sex and the City, I am a romantic and a relationship kinda gal. I’ve never done one night stands or flings, vowing when I was young to only sleep with men I love and therefore and have been with a total of 6 men in my whole life.
I talked to my friends, high on love and him, they said this feeling was normal, flings can feel like love, and then boom its over….. or he’ll fuck up and show you his true colours, or I can just see the end already. I rebelled and fought for what I felt and told them this was true, I think he’s the one, this is different I swear.
He left to Tasmania, he is coming back tomorrow.
Since he’s gone, I’ve had more perspective, I been clearing my head. I’ve been so confused by love, especially love when you grow older. Last time I fell in love I was 19 years old, a true romantic waiting tirelessly for the one. And I met him and dived into it deep, unquestioning, and naïve. It lasted 10 years, 10 beautiful years of my life. Now as I’m older, I get scared, cautious to fall, to share my independent existence with another, I’m more cagey and selfish with my time, my life, my future.
We are in the age of independence, of “I” “me, me, me” put yourself first and live an independent non-dependent existence. Depending on a man is taboo in this age of powerful women and feminism. Is it because of mortality that we feel less inclined to give everything to another? Is it from fear of getting your heart ripped out and stomped on?
It’s so much easier to fall in love young and give in and adapt to another, but getting older means more sacrifice.
I’ve talked to my polyamorous friends, and they bring a point that you can love many and that no person is able to give you everything you need. Share love with many, let it go round they say, don’t hold on to anything….
They have a point, in an idealistic world we would have many loves, and not grow attached or “own” a person… and after my 10-year relationship I too, don’t believe anything lasts forever.
So why not dive deep into love with no fear of a broken heart. Live for living sake and make new stories and challenge the cynics with pure love.
But having said that, I have made up my mind. I’m gonna try to separate “love” and “flings” and I will go to the USA alone, and seek new stories and adventure. And if he is still around and not yet snapped up by a high standard woman, I will pay him a visit and maybe the story will continue… who knows….