I once confessed to a friend that one of my biggest faults was that perhaps I expected too much of people.  I distinctly remember injecting the word "perhaps" into the sentence because, I wasn't completely certain that what I was saying was true.  It was said more out of an acknowledgement of what several people had told me.  As much faith as I have in myself, as well as I think I know myself, I tend to allow people a certain credibility, after all, we all see things with different perspectives, and for multiple different people to draw the same conclusion... well, there had to be some truth to it, right?  

My friend told me that she became a happier person when she stopped having those expectations of people.  She said it allowed her to be genuinely surprised and more appreciative of kindness.  I smiled.  I respected that.  To a certain extent,  it's simple and true.  But, expectations can have a different context.  I am an old soul.  I place a high value on communication, I mean, the ability for us to communicate with such intricacy and detail sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom.  So, when we use this powerful tool to create an idea... a promise... an expectation... I have been taught to honor it with action.  You can't just go around life saying what you're going to do out loud and not be held accountable for it, right?  I don't know if it's just me, but my father taught me at a very young age that when you say you're going to do something, when you commit, you give everything you have to make sure you do what you said you were going to do.  It truly is that simple to me.  

So then, am I not reasonable in taking you for your word?  If you tell me that you're going to do something... should I not expect you to do what you said you would?  Personally, I find it disrespectful, to address me with words about what you are going to do, and then not do it.  And then I realize that the day I stop listening to what you say and holding you accountable for it is the day I stop being who I am.  That's the simple truth.  

So when I say that I'm all in... you can take it for what it's worth.  But, I can't do this alone.  These are certainly unusual circumstances... but life is unusual and unexpected.  The simple fact is that I haven't felt like this about anyone for as long as I can remember.  It's odd, it's crazy, it's certainly unexpected and difficult to explain, but it's true.  I would much rather say it out loud and be held accountable for it, because at least you will know where I stand, unequivocally.  If I get my heart broken here, then sobeit.  I just know I would not be able to live with myself if I didn't pursue something I felt is genuine and worthwhile.  All I ask is for some sincerity... something more than just abstract for me to cling to, even if it's indifference or if it's unreciprocated.  I can handle you not wanting me, not feeling me... I don't have expectations of people... except  when I'm told that the feeling is mutual.  So if it is, then please, show me, don't tell me.    

I laid in my bed last night a very conflicted person.  It is almost an insurmountable task to ask someone who's greatest insecurity is his inability to trust, to take the most wicked and cruel coincidences and just chalk it up to dumb luck, or lackthereof.  My mind, as strong as it can be, still has to account for the scars left on my heart.  There's a guilt that doesn't go away.  There's a point where instinct takes over,  and no matter what you try to do, your mind wanders.  I was filled with insecurity.  Is this a game?  Am I being played masterfully?  I tend to believe that people are naturally not that cruel, but I remind myself that I have proven this theory wrong time and again, the hard way.  Hence... the scars. 


I laid in bed, hurting.  I don't want to wonder.  I need to know if this is real, because I certainly feel something in places that have been dormant for years.  I tossed and turned, sleeping in ten minute increments, and laying awake for hours at a time.  I finally checked my phone, again, to see if perhaps I missed a text, a call... anything.  It was 633 in the morning.  Once again, without knowing it, she had kept me up until the morning hours.  I couldn't help but smile.  So I got up from my bed, after all, there was no point in being there anymore.  


I drove to the gym and started lifting weights.  I had enough energy to finally complete the level of weights I had been working on for the past month.  Every last rep.  So I got in my car, heart still heavy, at 747 in the morning and immediately knew where I had to go.  I took 75 to Sheridan and drove east.  I listented to my newly purchased Radiohead album and once I hit US1, I sparked what was left of the last jay that was rolled up for the concert last weekend.  I was back in paradise.  I parked, applied what was left of the sunscreen in my car, took my shoes off and began to walk on the warm asphalt towards the boardwalk.  It's an amazing scene... a dark passage whose skies are covered by tall seagrape trees... yet, as you make your way to the end of the boardwalk, you're welcomed by a palm tree, almost perfectly placed.  And then, there it is... the blinding reflection of the sun kissing the vast ocean.  It's amazing, no matter how early it was, the sun immediately warmed my skin.  As I descended onto the sand, I was listening to Adele.  I stretched, knowing two things.  Firstly, I had to leave all of the negative energy behind... this is my paradise... this is where I come to take care of myself.  The second, and only other rule, is that I would push myself harder than the last day.  You show up, you give your best... no regrets.  It's in this simple process where I sought the sort of clarity I needed for the moment.  


This was the first time I made it to the pier without stopping to walk.  The sand was softer than usual, since it had rained earlier.  This made it much more difficult, and yet, there I was, at the pier.  I paced back and forth, thinking of her inbetween every breath I took.  I can't deny how much I care for her, how much I want to know more.  I kept pacing, trying to keep the blood flowing... knowing that it's a long walk back.  Thing is, there would be no walking back this morning.  


The pain I felt in my calves and shins were nothing compared to the emptiness I felt from not making tangible something I had worked myself over all week.  So I ran back.  This was my novacaine.  Every time I felt like stopping, I begged that man that wanted to give in to just keep going a little further.  Please don't be afraid to surprise yourself Moises.  In the beginning, you said that you were here to be a better man than you were yesterday.  And so I kept going.  It was here when I had a sort of epiphany.  


There are two things that can come out of this.  One of them is that you will lie to me, or walk away from me, and break my heart.  I can live with that.  I am strong enough to move forward from that, because you're the one that would have to live with that.  The other thing that can happen is to trust what you're telling me.  Because to put it simply, I really like you, and if you like me, that's all I need to know.  I'm here.  I'm in.  I'm down.  All these things keeping us apart are nothing... they are less than nothing.  I want you.  That's what I was doing at the beach.  You show up, you put yourself out there and you give your all and leave no regrets.  Nobody said this was going to be easy.  I can handle difficult, but I need to know that you're there too.  That's all I need.  I need you to talk to me, communicate with me.  I know this sucks right now, but it can be made better if we both want to.  So as the sweat rolled down my skin, and my pace sped up as I neared my starting point, I was deciding that the only way that I will walk away from you is if you ask me to, or if you tell me you don't want me, you don't want this.  But I can't walk away from what I feel... I deserve to know what's there.  


I left the beach and started walking back to my car.  I was almost certain that there would be a text from you at some point... but there wasn't.  I drove back home, showered, cleaned up a bit... anything to kill time until I heard from you.  I cooked, watched television, listened to music.  I even took a nap.  An hour later I was awake.  It was only 3 in the afternoon. 


So here's what I think.  Late exes, falling asleep, accidents, lost phones, flat tires... it's a lot to take in.  But it doesn't even begin to take away from what I see in you.  If you say you want to see what's there, you should know I feel the same.  I'm here for the long haul, I believe you're worth it.  I just need you to reassure me that you're here... and you're in.  But if you're not, I will interpret your silence as your answer.  Please don't be afraid of me.  I can't make this work by myself.

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.