Earlier this evening, I showered and curled my hair for a date with a guy I’d recently met. He was also a friend of a friend. He picked a new restaurant that had been on my wishlist. He was smart and charming and I wanted to like him.
I had fun, but I was already thinking of Buff Guy on the train home. Wondering what he was up to, and if he would be online when I got back in front of my computer.
Just like the others, he only held my attention for the time that he was there. That is because, for the rest of the time, I am preoccupied with his absence.
He is just one of many. They are ready to give me everything Buff Guy never will. But I don’t want them. Any one of them could be everything I ever want. But I still want him.
I’ve even told Buff Guy that I’m can’t get over him. Sadly, I’m probably going to want him until he tells me not to. But because of his selfishness and cowardice, he does not tell me to leave him alone. By keeping me around, he allows me the luxury of living in doubt. Living in doubt is addictive. It creates sensations of burning hopefulness that, as long as it is not extinguished completely, can sustain someone for a very long time.