I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to someone before and I’m frustrated at my inability to conceal it from him. I heard his voice today before I saw him walk in and knew I should look up at him and face the view head on before he was tableside and watching my reaction firsthand. My God though… it’s just too much hot in one man.

I’m blinded by the onslaught of his details and powerless to their effect on me, so I give up. Life is far too short and the sticky-sweet electricity he dips my toes into makes the torturous fallout a reasonable expense. If I died tomorrow, I wouldn’t regret a single second I’ve spent loving this incredible man.

He smiles and I can’t help but smile back, even when I’m the butt of the joke. He laughs and it makes me giggle, instinctively. He knows I’m suffering and that I’m barely able to stay silent about it. It’s not intentional but the rich fantasy life this man inspires is noteworthy and the look in his eyes makes adjectives fall out of my mouth.

Close your eyes and picture the most beautiful man on the planet with a character that rivals his pretty face (and dear GOD that’s saying something).

Who knew dating douchebags was taking the easy way out? Being hopelessly hooked on a good man is downright unbearable.

He sits down across from me and I’m jealous of the fork he picks up and buffs clean against his chest. He takes a drink of the beer I ordered him and I’m envious of the aluminum can his beautiful hand is wrapped around.

You know you’re in deep when you’re wistfully wishing you were a french fry.

My phone is blowing up with Tinder notifications and he laughs and grabs it, changing my age range to 100+, as he browses through my text messages, He smirks at me and hands it back when my hands wrap around his throat as I fall into his lap. He’s warm and smells like I wish everything in my bed did. His lips look better than any of the food growing cold on my plate and I can feel his body respond. His heart races a little under my shoulder, his pretty eyes are smoldering and I can feel him getting hard against my thigh.

Hugging him is right up there with my first kiss in Junior High. It’s been a very long time since I got wet over a hug. Maybe since way back then? At any rate, leaning in to wrap my arms around the neck that inspires all of my sleepless nights, I felt like I got hit by a train. I have goosebumps. My hair stands on end. I can’t breathe or let go. I can feel a pulse in my ladybits and I’m hoping he doesn’t say anything that shoves me off the edge into the spontaneous orgasm I’m flirting with.

Content with the spontaneous response and struggling to maintain my decorum, I return to my seat. His phone is vibrating on the table and when I look down at it, there’s a laundry list of girls staring back at me. My mouth goes dry and my heart slows to a stop. Tears threaten to fall and the clouds roll in as my eyebrows knit themselves into thunder bolts.

He raises an eyebrow at me. I push my cold food around my plate. Silent and angry, freshly heartsick and imagining a dozen threesomes.

I- Those are my friends.

J- You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s none of my business.

The highs and lows of loving this beautiful creature have taught me more about myself than I can shake a stick at.

I’m impatient to a fault when I don’t get what I want and I’ve learned to breathe through the worst of the worst moments. I can gracefully accept disappointment these days and though it wasn’t a goal that was high on my list, I am grateful.

Once upon a time I would have replaced him, immediately. I would have erased the fingertips he’s burnt into my body after I smote him verbally into the earth’s core. I would have left him with more hurt and hostility than his arms could carry and I would have taken myself away, forever.

Once upon a time I was a bad bitch.

Now I’m just a sad one with a bleeding heart and too much hope stemming from a life full of beautiful reminders that miracles happen and even planes that fall out of the sky sometimes land safely.

Once in a blue moon… the good girl wins.

I sat for a second in my overwhelming sorrow, then spoke up.

J- I can’t get over you. I’m working on it and I’m sorry for the tears. I hate that I can’t seem to swallow them around you.

The look on his face destroys me. He looks like I ran over his puppy and caught him doing the same to mine, simultaneously. Devastated, regretful, concerned and sympathetic.

He’s desperately sorry and I’m woefully grateful for the truth. This is why I agreed to this lunch. To face the reality head on and close the book I want so badly to read.

Sometimes even the most magical of fairy tales, end sadly. Most of the best stories don’t end in happily ever after and the bulk of the princesses end up married to pathetic princes who’ve done nothing but be borne entitled.

I threw my heart into the pocket of a man who has ruined me forever for bad men.

I can sit and bemoan the existence of the man who won’t do as I say, or I can celebrate the beauty of a man who told me about things I didn’t even know I wanted and needed. In letting me down, he raised my standards to the point I won’t ever have to wade through bullshit again.

He loved me just enough to remind me of why that’s worthwhile.

It may not be happily ever after, I may not have gotten the guy I wanted so badly and I am 5 days from deleting my online dating presence so that I can peacefully sink into single cat-lady celibacy for the rest of my life.

But.

He’s beautifully honest in a world full of deceit and I’d rather celebrate what he taught me than mourn the loss of a fantasy.

One thought on “So pretty it hurts.

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