Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Bitter is the Spit of a Loveless Bitch

I haven't been seeing anyone since the last time I kissed this guy on the forehead and abandoned him in his sleep. That was about two years ago, and I've never been too keen with starting a new leaf in his wake. I was not much of a fool to fall in love with him, and that kiss was an unspoken farewell which sealed the lid on whatever we had going on back then. That was two years ago, and for some reason, I seem to have lost my grip on this whole, er, boyfriend-boyfriend engagement.

Is a two-year sabbatical from romance long enough? I don't even remember how lovers are supposed to behave anymore. Fill me in on this one, but I'm really trying to remember. Are they meant to hold hands and go all out on each other to everybody else's viewing pleasure? That's entertainment. Are they meant to stick together as a couple? Just that, as a couple? That's playing safe. Are they supposed to practice safe sex on each other? That's being fuck buddies. So what are they supposed to be then? And is it still as good as it used to be last time I remembered it?

It was two years ago, two lifetimes ago when I last felt like tripping on a happier kind of weed. But the funny thing about this kind of addiction is that it doesn't seem to present any withdrawal symptoms or whatsoever. I haven't been, uhm, involved for the past two years now, but I don't feel like I'm missing anything good. It's been two years now since I last got intimate with another warm body, two years since I went beyond freaky and actually showed any romantic capacity, two years since I voiced affection through lips meant to kiss. I remember that these things felt good, but I don't feel anything at all like a junkie in rehab.

That last kiss makes me remember the sweet sickening shit we used to share. But that was a goodbye kiss. It wasn't completely romantic and all, but it was still a kiss, and thinking of that farewell just made me want to grab a spitoon burst with unanswered questions.

Have I been missing out on something lately?

Ask me this two years ago, and I could snap out an essay faster than you can say "I love this blog." Stifles cough. But now, I'm failing on this one freaking question. Every freaking time. Like I'm answering a freaking pregnancy test, I'm failing evey freaking time. Like any other guy with a freaking dick would do any different, but I'm running out of freaking analogies.

If I sounded a little pessimistic about the subject, let me just say, in my defense, that I'm keeping a bad list of character references. And I swear to God I do. I remember a little of each bad relationship in my memory, but my understanding of the concept never fails to disappoint even myself. Every freaking time.

But I haven't completely forgotten everything. I may be loveless for two years now, but I was able to salvage much from this distasteful learning experience. And that falling in love isn't always a good thing.

See, I've learned that the bad thing about falling in love or something like that for the second third or fourth time around is that it suspends that bitter taste that lingers from your last ugly relationship. It reanimates the death of an emotion that, for all the right reasons, is better kept sealed in an imaginary coffin best left forgotten. It once enchanted you with insurmountable happiness, and it also caused one of your most remarkable miseries. Call me bitter, but falling in love is a germ that lowers your defenses. It might be pure and all that creamy goodness at it's sweetest peak, but it's the worst piece of shit you can possibly choke on when you two start falling apart. Something bad happens along the way, and hell breaks loose just when you feel all safe and hurt-free in this new paradise.

What good is it to feel like you're in love when you have no real idea as to how long you're going to enjoy that?

I'd rather lose that loving feeling if that means immunity. I don't want to recall another nightmare as it is, and to introduce another terrible memory would simply be self-torture at it's finest. I'm not any good in gambling, but I know better than to take a risk in a bad investment.

And for the love of free sex, don't start calling me the frost queen just yet. It was always fun while it lasted. But I'm sure I haven't grown any wiser in between then and now, so I really wouldn't know shit.

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