Have sex on rugs that’s Persian

It’s difficult to strike a balance between the opposing forces I’ve internalized. Say, the kind of romantic inclination which drives a person to take an international flight to play out a fantasy and the kind of cynicism that would tend to kill that seed of optimism from years of callous relationships. Those same forces pull me in directions I know I shouldn’t/needn’t go. Like, even though these non relationships are unstable as fuck, there’s a certain comfort in them that I have, mostly from the control, even though I have none. Whereas a “real” relationship seems to make me really uncomfortable (if I think too much about it) even though everything in my life right now indicates that’s what I should probably stop playing wild games with myself.

Makes no damn sense.

It’s like when Carrie fainted from the Russian’s “romantic gestures”, which were admittedly contrived and far-fetched, but the hyperbole makes a point: dating is so fucked sometimes that gallantry and chivalry almost seem out of the norm and would have the opposite effect of driving you away.

Which is just rude and unfair.

What kind of world is that, where we’re quicker to rationalize dysfunctional behavior than to take a nice gesture at face value? More wary of genuineness than these detached inaccessibility?

And what is it with dudes and their sixth sense about certain things? Impeccably bad timing on the miss you, let’s hang texts.

Turning the overthinking off, which has ruined many good things.

Ciao

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One response to “Have sex on rugs that’s Persian

  1. jess January 11, 2011 at 11:06 AM

    I fux with this post. like button.

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