hey pretty

Ceci n'est pas une "dating blog."

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Boredom Is The Past Of Least Resistance

Women often bemoan the sad state of their dating lives, especially when a certain somebody is taking too long to come around to fall under their feminine spells. We want instant gratification, easy definitions, romantic vehicles that go from dating to relationship in 20 seconds. But I was reminded recently of a potential alternate scenario and the relative charms of a relationship defined by resistance and tensions between both parties.

It's part of my nature to assume that a hookup is going to create a defined relationship. Like, we are x who do y. Or, we are "an item." I don't know why I should think that, seeing as how in my experience it clearly never does. Or hasn't for quite some time. The relationship with boy du jour has been a slow and steady climb. One marked by twisting trails, branches that stick out of nowhere to potentially knock me on my ass, ambiguous signs, forks in the road leading to nowhere. I mean, I didn't even like this person when I first met him. And yet I've loved every minute of it.

So there's no rational reason why I should assume that a night of drunken shenanigans would result in a defined anything. Nor should I assume that things are over either. Because there have been a couple of exchanges since and they've been sizzling (and here we're talking polite conversation--that's it). With that in mind, I am currently really enjoying the resistance. Things are basically the way they were before the weekend, only more intense and hotter due to the whole covert nature of everything. I never thought I'd enjoy easing into something so much, but it's really quite enjoyable. I'm thinking about things, but all my angst from two days ago has been replaced by a devil-may-care attitude towards the whole situation. One that appeals to my Scorpio-like need for mystery and intrigue. Kind of like a '40's film noir, and since I've been accused of having that '40's kind of look a few times in my life, it fits.

Or even dare I say it...the Logan to my Veronica?


Blogger Matt said...

I'm sometimes reminded that my present hairstylist won't be with me for the rest of my life... and that frightens me, dude.

6:58 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

boom boom boom

9:35 PM  

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