2006-06-05 - 1:42 p.m.

Ah finally. 25 years of dodging relationships, courting wide-eyed does and a truck load of self-loathing later, I'm finally ready and waiting.

And waiting, and waiting and waiting...

The thrill of the chase, the bedding of some young pretty thing, all of it seems like a distant (unwanted?) memory to me. All the sudden I've caught up to my age and I'm a 25 year old young man who's tired of dating, tired of living the fast life so-to-speak and more than ready to find a companion to share what's left of this life with.

My woe is that I think I've burned so many bridges, misled so many minds, played the romantic vigilante for so long that no one would believe this declaration even if I were to shout it from the rooftops. So I write it here to myself, and I pray that I'm not yet capable of lying to myself.

I want comfortable, everyday love. I don't need some out of the ordinary romance, like two idiots who eventually burn each other out. I want a lovely face that shares my thoughts, that knows my weaknesses, each and every one of them and has the sensibility not to play off of them. I want passion under the covers, and humility afterwards. I want love in the worst way and according to everyone else, it is the wanting that will keep me from entertaining it.

So I'm supposed to want it, but not wander after it... long for it but not look for it... desire it but not demand it.

What the fuck.

And so I get into this feeling of depression and anxiety as I wonder if now that I'm finally capable of loving, my period of attractiveness has expired and I'm doomed to meander amongst the divorcees and other lonely souls. Yes I know I'm only 25, but when I was 5 I was already 30. So mentally I feel close to 70. A young shell housing a fatigued and frighteningly lonely mind.

I'm watching people around me finding love and I'm analyzing thier relationships trying to find the key that makes them work, looking for some trace of a recipe to follow... But I'm finding that I hate their relationships almost as much as they do (or so they confide in me.)

Absolutely uncertain as to how to find the "one?" I'm instead fielding 4am phone calls and deflecting them rather than succumbing to a primal late night fuck and an early morning awkeard departure. My sex drive is in neutral (thankfully not reverse) as I sit, engines purring and at the ready for when the light turns green. And I want the real true green, not a right turn on red, the real green. I want the next tumble in the sheets to be a real one that blooms some kind of relationship.

Do I sound like a bitch?

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