There is a consistent stream of thought that appears in all of my writing phases.  I find myself writing to an abstract person... the woman I will eventually settle down with.  It's therapuetic I suppose... a way of silently, and at the same time, concretely reminding myself that she's still out there, just waiting to be found, waiting to find me. The reason I bring this up is because it's been such a long time since I wrote... and my life is a lot different than it was then.  I've had the luxury of plenty of women in my bed to keep me company.  It's been so easy to keep the affairs of the heart as uninvolved as you can imagine.  A warm night, proceeded by a kiss goodbye and an effortless hope that it'll happen again, someday, and it usually does.  But the heart just doesn't mettle in those matters.  It's purely a bachelor's playground at times.  Having said that, here I am.  Here I sit questioning myself, perhaps not as intensely as I have in the past, but still wound up.  There's a child within all of us, and I've allowed that child to participate in every facet of my life except with women.  Hell, I've done a great job with it.  Endless opportunities at my fingertips, without fear of the long term consequences.  Yet here you waltz into my life and throw me off course.


The thing is that I looked in your eyes... I listened to your thoughts... and you not only had the man's attention, but you also have the child's attention.  That one night, mere words, several gentle kisses... it was simply intoxicating.  It was like my favorite Cabernet.  I can't buy it all the time, because I know I won't be able to look at the bottle for long without wanting it.  I can't open it and have one glass... I want all of it.  But, at the same time, if you want something that bad, why not, right?  And herein is my struggle.  The man inside me, filled with defense mechanisms and wisdom on how to avoid getting hurt   is waving the bright orange flags... warning me not to proceed.  The man silences the child most of the time.  But, I can't escape the need to know if what I saw was the ghost of that woman I've written to manifesting in everything that you are... or just a freefall into an dry body of water that no longer exists.  So I struggle within, the child reaching for you, and the man pulling back the reigns when he sees the signs that he understands so well at this point. 


It's a chaotic clash of thoughts and emotions that usually result in an awkwardness I haven't seen.  I can usually just walk away, without thinking twice.  But I can't decide if you're playing with me or if you're real... and more importantly, I can't stay away, regardless of what it is.