The Cynic Has Spoken.
Well, it's been a year. Or more. Depending on when you look at it, I suppose. I guess it was Valentine's Day last year, and I was still pretty happy, albeit a little delusional. But still, happy, even in my ignorance. But I suppose that deep down, I already knew it was over. I remember talking to my best friend that night, after having a bit of a disagreement with my then-beau, and that was when the first seed was planted. So much for a new beginning with an old love. Huh. It feels like I've had my heart broken more times this year than I would care to admit.
I've given up on love. Well, almost. And I'm very much only applying this to the romantic type of love. The delusion that everyone has a "special someone" out in the world that they just need to find. Because why the hell would you think that you'd ever find "the One" among the million, billion, people in the entire world. No, I prefer to believe that there is no specific person that is matched perfectly to another person, but rather that our circumstances will determine who we will fall in love with, and that person will help our circumstances more than any other will.
I don't believe in the notion of "true love." Yes, please forgive me, Westley and Buttercup, but I've been hurt far too many times in the last year that as much as I would love to believe that my Westly is still out there, searching for me, or waiting for me, or fighting against all odds and even defeat death, I have to be realistic. There are simply men out there that can hurt and use me. So rather than allow them to get close, I prefer to take the offensive and use them before they use me.
And then these two come along. These two men that seem to have stepped out of my life, one more recently and the other about a year ago, and now I get these words from them that begin to stir things inside of me. Feelings, emotions, notions that I would rather never have to deal with again in my life. Part of me really wants them to prove what they mean, and the other is merely saying, "Sure, let them try to prove it. Hell, one is already involved with another woman only weeks after he says he loves you. And the other is across the continent. Very wise choices, my dear. Now let them decide if they want to choose you."
It's a dance. A very sensual, romantic, irresistible dance that promises fulfillment, anticipation, sweat, and work. And it'll either be a complete disappointment or utter ecstasy. And personally, I can't wait to see which one can bachata better. After all, nothing gets me going more than foreplay on the dance floor. But that's just me.
;)
I've given up on love. Well, almost. And I'm very much only applying this to the romantic type of love. The delusion that everyone has a "special someone" out in the world that they just need to find. Because why the hell would you think that you'd ever find "the One" among the million, billion, people in the entire world. No, I prefer to believe that there is no specific person that is matched perfectly to another person, but rather that our circumstances will determine who we will fall in love with, and that person will help our circumstances more than any other will.
I don't believe in the notion of "true love." Yes, please forgive me, Westley and Buttercup, but I've been hurt far too many times in the last year that as much as I would love to believe that my Westly is still out there, searching for me, or waiting for me, or fighting against all odds and even defeat death, I have to be realistic. There are simply men out there that can hurt and use me. So rather than allow them to get close, I prefer to take the offensive and use them before they use me.
And then these two come along. These two men that seem to have stepped out of my life, one more recently and the other about a year ago, and now I get these words from them that begin to stir things inside of me. Feelings, emotions, notions that I would rather never have to deal with again in my life. Part of me really wants them to prove what they mean, and the other is merely saying, "Sure, let them try to prove it. Hell, one is already involved with another woman only weeks after he says he loves you. And the other is across the continent. Very wise choices, my dear. Now let them decide if they want to choose you."
It's a dance. A very sensual, romantic, irresistible dance that promises fulfillment, anticipation, sweat, and work. And it'll either be a complete disappointment or utter ecstasy. And personally, I can't wait to see which one can bachata better. After all, nothing gets me going more than foreplay on the dance floor. But that's just me.
;)
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