Hope-less Romanticism

Soundtrack: Who Else?

I show up at her place and she's already tipsy so she's playfully pushy and I just ride it out like I always do and bear the brunt of her girlishness that comes out when she's had some wine. We run some errands and we have a drink and I take her home and I carry her to bed literally. I tuck her in and she nuzzles up next to me and looks through her gorgeous hair with those big eyes a woman can only use when she admires her man and fades backward through time to her younger girl days and you know what you must do: take her and ravage her selfishly and savagely.

She cums on my dick hard then begs me to hurt her and have my way with her and to satisfy my lust with her.

I do exactly that and we sleep after talking for an hour and it's all the more precious and bittersweet knowing that it has it's expiration date ticking in sky in vibrant fluorescent letters like in Atlas Shrugged but she doesn't see them, only I do, and I pull her close to me and her tiny fingers press into my chest needing me and needing the security I provide with my arms wrapped around her.

I don't think about the date I have planned the day after tomorrow nor do I consider the young girl who's slowly but subtly and above all very effectively working her way back into my life.
In this moment, I haven't thought about drinking nor do I need it or anything. I don't think about the yawning loneliness pervading so much of my life at times....in this moment there is her and I in the dark of the night and it is good.

I soak it in like the onset of a good glass of wine or a good glass of Jameson.

I see all this crumbling in my mind's eye behind it as it happens and I know it will be something I can endure and will.....life will continue on...but I don't know if it's like the movie "Her" and the more a heart loves the bigger it gets, or if you only get so much to give out, and over time, it loses its elasticity....I suspect that the bitterness of failure and loss puts dents in it and its adaptive powers can fade if you lose appreciation for the fairer sex because my adoration of the capricious ways of women are the only thing that keeps a hopeless romantic like me going.

I can only just barely balance the long and traveled road my heart has tread nothing other than the glory of a new and good and captivating woman.
The close your eyes and swing the bat moment of approaching a girl already accepting failure but the fuck it why not attitude that comes with any relatively moderate experience with a decent number of good looking women...and the newness of it...the sweet taste of the unknown....

On the flipside...I know that I am only the man I am because I have walked through the gauntlet of rebirth that is losing everything, starting over, pain, failure, crushing loss, hoping only to find despair....and that I am only the man I am with women now because of not only the success but the abject failure I have discussed here.

I see the coming storm with trepidation but I know it is the agent of my next transformation and though each tribulation has dwarfed its predecessor....I know that change, real meaningful change is soul breaking business and fucking painful and must force you to doubt everything you think you know and everything you want to believe about yourself.

But if you brave the storm...if you hold fast...and you see it through to its culmination, there is peace unlike any other to be found on the other side of the line in the sand.

Good luck and happy hunting,
     - Yrs. in Christ