There are signs; not too obvious but consistent. I feel no interest, despite the history. I feel as if I had already found my match, finally. Someone that filles those vacuous dents on my body, that could potentially complete my being. And so I don't need nor want the overly masculine yet awfully self-conscious kind of guy. I am neither interested in the mellow stray pupp with the hint of panic and pathetic insecurity. It's not very orthodox of me to say this, really. Not very humble. 

 

How could you ever settle? Just settle for someone. Anyone. How tragic that would be to just settle. But in comparison to wandering alone perhaps settling would be rather appealing. I don't know. I'm not completely there yet. Wandering alone sometimes has its perks. 

 

I cannot say I'm very alarmed about my situation. There will always be the alternative choice to just settle; but what I feel is... I guess regretful would be the accurate term. Rather let down by the circumstances - and it leaves me even more hollow than I already am. That haunting idea of what-could-have-been. I must remind myself repeatedly, I am only encaged by the idea of an assumed perfection. It could have been a terrible and disastrous mistake too. But also, it could have been the one. You never know. And I cannot stand not knowing.

 

I wonder if it is true, if I fit into that ridiculous type of women who only crave what they cannot obtain. I'd hoped I was more intellectual than that; more self-aware. Or maybe I'm just too picky. I don't feel like I am.

 

I try to recall why I so determinedly believe this was the one. It's silly, really, it was afterall a very brief encountering. But it was something in the laughter; how coinjoined it was. Pure and mutual. There was magic in it. Rare magic. And then it slipped through my confused fingers before I even understood it. Regretfully so.