I’ve been in love, at most, twice before. I’ve been in lust more often. And I’ve definitely mistaken lust for love enough number of times.
So when you came into sight, I barely noticed. I’d been acquainted with you before and vice versa, but we weren’t friends. Then in our sudden spree of hangouts, we talked more in that one week than we ever had in the last decade and a half of knowing each other.
When you offered nuances that you were interested in me, I didn’t think much of it. In fact, I didn’t take you seriously. You flirted with me, and having had years of superficial relationships - the kind that focused on some benefits more than others - I found it only expected, natural even, to merely flirt back. It was meant to be inconsequential. I wondered to myself if I’d actually sleep with you (of course I wondered this) but I let you run your course, just to see where you were headed.
In no imagination that I had did I expect you to chase after me. Not that I think of myself as easy or, conversely, a serial monogamist; it’s just that in the last couple of adult years that I’ve had, so-called suitors tended to come and go as they pleased. I don’t know how convoluted my sense of self worth had become, but that scenario grew to be a norm for me… with no lasting chagrin on my part on when these swains eventually left.
You can understand then how I was dubious of your pursuit of me. Me! When your interest in me ignited, I was at a crossroads of sorts. I had definitely gotten out of my down times - boy, were those times bleak - but I hadn’t exactly realised my potential. At this point, I had kind of figured out what my life could be filled with for me to find some semblance of self-actualisation, but barely so. I could tell you who I was, but this Me was a work-in-progress.
So the eventual question that begged to be asked in my mind when it was clear that you were in it to win it, was ‘Why, though?’
What did you want with mediocre me?
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
jacobvanloon
vaporwave
romaincrisis
