Bliss (?)

One always remembers the beginning of affairs with such fondness, recalling only the first kiss, the hand holding, the sharing of secrets, the cathartic release of sexual tension tantamount to the rush of orgasm. But only in experiencing it does one remember the composite side -- that which is laden with insecurity, with doubt, with this incessant fluctuation of emotions, with this pain that persists when the other is gone, and the anxiety that will not be quelled until the phone shows his name. Maybe it depends on the pessimistic versus optimistic nature of the person. But being one (unfortunately) always with a tragic outlook, more to prevent myself from potential woe, it becomes impossible to enjoy the moment. I will not trade this for the world, because I believe myself, for the first time, to be truly truly blissful, but faced with the fact I will not see him for a mere 4 days (maybe 5!) is pure torture.

The curse of my nature (and perhaps that of womankind) is this insecurity that pervades and extinguishes any attempt at satisfaction. You learn to dwell on the minutiae, that he dates often, has no qualms about having sex early in the relationship, is too good with women, forgeting that perhaps you have the same deterring tendencies. You want to know where this is going, but cannot ask, and continue to slowly simmer in this torture and agony. Being hurt before, unexpectedly, you want to avoid previous mistakes, with the caveat that you, having received little to no feedback, may be doomed to repeat them.

I know this is too early to make any conclusions. At the end of the day, he is surprisingly sweet, honest, and funny. As hard as it is, we can only expect to take one step at a time.