Absence doesn't always make the heart grow fonder.
Sometimes absence reminds you how undeniably you
don't
need someone.
Don't get me wrong.
It's not that I don't still want to see him.
It's not that I didn't still wish he saw me in my dress last night because I felt so hot I could have been Dita Von Teese's lover.
But my world is not as small as it was a year ago.
And I'm also not as romantic.
I don't believe in a soul mate.
I believe in lots of soul mates.
And I don't believe in waiting for someone to realize they actually dislike me being gone.
This week apart has only done one thing for me:
Reaffirmed that as much as I didn't need him before we were lovers, I still don't need him.
He thinks I want something more than he's capable of offering.
When all I want from anyone is the sincerity of the connection that exists between us.
For whatever that is, that passion or friendship or need, in that moment, to be embraced and explored and delighted in.
I hate people who say they shouldn't do something.
I want a sensualist not a saint.
I want someone who knows what to do with my body not someone who looks away because they fear what they feel when they look into my eyes.
It's boring.
Our story is tired.
I went to a club last night unlike any one I've ever been to.
A place where the energy in the room, where the pairs of eyes looking at you are delighting in everything, in every detail of you.
And there was no shame anywhere.
Their eyes met yours and they smiled.
Seeing you seeing them enjoying you.
And when we finally left and ventured on to another bar some hottie in thick black glasses sat beside us.
And he got my number.
And he already texted asking to see me again.
And I can't fucking remember the last time I actually got picked up at a bar.
And I really don't even give a fuck about him, to be honest.
But last night was the universe's way of reminding me this energy, this connection you're fucking fleeing from is everywhere.
Everyone sees what I am.
You're not special.
You're not the only man to think I look like a goddess sitting on top of you.
And maybe what we have is special.
But maybe it's really not.
Maybe the things I thought you were saying to me are the things you say to every lover while touching her thighs.
Maybe that night you played what you claimed you hadn't for any lover in seven years my ears could have been anyone's.
Maybe you just needed someone to listen.
And it had nothing the fuck to do with me.
But I don't want to guess anymore.
Because it doesn't fucking matter.
You're always going to be the kid who runs away from me.
And I really want someone whose going to stop
And stare
And delight in what they see
And have absolutely no desire to look away
Until they've given me every
last
desire I crave
and don't even know I want.
Last night I thought, A week ago I was dumped.
And now here I stand feeling absolutely alive
And beautiful
And open to anyone
And every pleasure
You could have given me
But now never will.
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