||[Nov. 24th, 2003|03:53 am]
chronicles of a serial dater
I think I changed somehow. I don't know when. I don't think it could have been very long ago. And I'm not even sure if its permanent or a passing hormonal tantrum. I don't really know what to call it. |
Whats different is that I could never sleep with people. In the same bed. It used to drive me crazy, so I would just give up and not sleep at all, and usually leave and walk around, or kick them out. I like it now. I haven't gotten used to it. Its not out of habit. I just like it.
And I'm somehow less aggressively opposed to anything that stinks of domesticization. I don't really mind anymore. I kind of like grocery shopping or getting batteries. And I haven't allowed this leap into the unknown yet, but who knows, I might even like renting movies.
So it makes me wonder, what all this means. (if I didn't wonder about things like this, would I really have one of these?) Am I maturing? Or aging? I would prefer the former, but am afraid of the latter. Or is it some over-analyzed, nesting instinct, social comparison for gauge of worth, oprah-esque crisis of loneliness? That sounds hideous. Thus it is not true. Maybe I just miss that one fellow. But what if I miss him because of this. Because of this budding need to be barefoot and pregnant watching a goddamn rented movie while I cook dinner. Maybe my "emotional maturity" (its so good it got quotes) is starting to catch up to my age. Maybe I will finally understand what high school sweethearts knew all along. I'm a late bloomer.
I distinctly feel that something is different. Could it be that this is what has been brewing under the lid all this time? While I was turning a cold shoulder to my quiet, gentle heart, could it have been storing it up? Storing it, only to unleash at the dawn of my emotional awakening so unabashedly? Ah, quiet gentle heart, you are tricky.