Went for a date,the first in months.
I've been avoiding the idea of a relationship,however brittle or silly,because the potential drama that comes with having feelings,desires,that you put yourself up for disappointment and let out a helpless sigh when things go to shreds,even before take-off,its all very offputting. And I've been focusing on putting things back together,other parts of my life that I let disintegrate last year,I'm slowly recouping.
I'm terrible at dates,there's a small obligation to lie,or play your best self and not overwhelm the other with your more tedious,difficult sides that take time getting used to. Then there's the flirting,sometimes so unambiguous and forthcoming it takes me off guard,the genuine chemistry hindered by both struggling too hard to make it a good first meet.
But it was a good meal,talked a lot and sometimes I think the ideal relationship is where both of us just talk and talk until we pass out,put all our insecurities and worries out for show,I'll talk all the spontaneity and sex and mystery away,which is bizarre because I'm naturally an introvert and only talk when I feel necessary,nothing worse than one who speaks to fill the void,a pointless and robotic chatterbox,maybe I need a therapist more than I need a lover,or better yet both come in one convenient package for me.
I've become so apt at idealizing,forming a hypothetical match for myself,where I brood and think indoors and plan for myself a spotless future,then I go out and the reality is much less consistent,and chemistry is not something you mentally dictate,the biology of how compatible two people are is not something I can nail down,theorize or predict.