Love and lust. An exploration continues.

I hesitate to write for I wish I could pen a fairytale. This does have the makings, but I pulse the brakes. Create a million stops, hoping I will catch up–but so many miles lie between your emotions and mine.

. . . I am not sure what it is I have learned, but I am learning. Every night he asks me the same thing, and my response remains. “It’s a possibility.”

It is too soon. And that he knows. What if I said yes– that I would marry him. What then? I would wear a ring and he would gain some sense of being able to maintain the happiness that has permeated his life?

Falling in love is a cathexis and if ever, this is one to note.  His words echo mine of S. And I realize that the act of falling in love, the lust, is much about feeling one with the other. Feeling complete, a superior you. He has changed at work and has closed a deal a day since we met. He stands taller. He wakes up earlier. Healthier. He feels like a better person. Effortless. High.. Genuine. This cathexis. This falling in love. I am the most important thing to hm. The feelings so deeply felt they need not be questioned, he wants to marry me, and would tomorrow.
My life is full of my passions and many of which are his, albeit dormant. And I suspect that when you meet someone who brings you closer to your own values, your own desired self, the feeling of love pervades.

I am the most important thing in his life right now and I feel it every moment, so much so. It is painful. This week was spent sharing time with friends, mine and his. We shared an evening with my colleague, T, the one person who is akin to family, the person who I believe my path thus far was intended to meet.

He had just arrived from a long five day love affair, although the lover is in New York, a relationship unfeasible, but it was a weekend of intimacy and passion at its best. We spoke about how difficult it was and the Impulsive Gentleman interjected, “That’s how I feel but there is no water in between. Every night I go to bed and I long for her (me) and she is within a drive’s reach, but I can’t see her.” The pain of which this was said was incredible..

I am continuing the process of getting to know him. I love the time we spend together, but it is not lust, not close. I laugh and find myself at ease. a slowly growing love. With his heels over his head, everyday is me pressing the brakes. Everyday is a mix of suffocating and enjoying. I find it curious. This gradual accumulation of feelings, my antiquated belief was in instantaneous.

His only goal is to make me the happiest woman for the rest of his life. He is patient and lacks frustration. This I admire, but I am mixed with doubt and concern that I don’t crave him enough ….

We will see. For now I unpack the dozen roses I just received,

Advertisements

Advice wanted.

A quick update on the men:

So, as you know MattDamon let an imaginary relationship grow in his mind. This became apparent by his friends’ and colleagues’ comments at his gradation dinner. Recall, “So, this is the meeting of the parents! “

After this event and my avoiding his attempts to peck me on the lips as if we did it for everyday for the last ten years, MattDamon avoided the coffee shop where we spend our days working on laptops.

 Another fellow coffee-shopper, the Journalist, also works from there. The Journalist is also an acquaintance of MattDamon, albeit a new one. He too was at the graduation dinner. As we were chatting that evening, which we had done many times before, I sensed a spark of interest (he unaware of my assumed romantic status with MattDamon.) Jounalist had always disregarded me previously (so much so that he didn’t even recognize me when I had walked into the coffee shop from my two weeks in PR, so I was rather surprised to find a spark in his eye.)

I gave the Journalist my card as I fled that awkward evening. The next morning:

On 10/17/08 7:51 AM, the Journalist wrote:

Hey there,
Just adding you to my contacts before I forget. Here’s my info, case you need some editing help.
Good to see you last night.

Journalist
555.555.5555

On Oct 17, 2008, at 9:28 AM, Attainingme wrote:

Lol. Thanks. Way to make me feel brilliant first thing in the morning.

On Oct 17, 2008, at 10:49 AM, Journalist wrote:

Just kidding. Drop a line if you are out in hood later.
Btw  still embarrassed about not recognizing you yesterday 😉  

 


The night of the credit card incident, Journalist texted me. Feeling as if I lost my mind, I welcomed the opportunity to have a drink. Without money, I told him he had to purchase it. He obliged. We met at a small bar. Sat. Talked. Connected . . .

This was the start to our companionship that flourished until my leaving for PR last week–the companionship that has me feeling empty. I really miss him. We talk daily. We kissed while I was there. Nothing more. I spent the night and he did as well. He ventured with me on errands and to ride horses, hours working at cafes, a few dinners, and a couple parties. I enjoy him, but don’t foresee him as a boyfriend. The only potential boyfriend may be Dario, who will be dissected separately.

So, here is the dilemma:

onewomanmanymenpicture

As I mentioned MattDamon and Journalist are acquaintances, a growing friendship, a mutual respect. So, the Saturday before my departure to PR, after the companionship with the Journalist and I was budding, all three of us somehow ended up at the same bar. MattDamon was clueless that the Journalist and I had planned to meet each other. MattDamon left to go to another obligation. I was leaving soon as well. Ten minutes later, Journalist walked me out. MattDamon stood outside waiting—he waited ten mintues!!

MattDamon asked to walk me home. Continue reading