Deconstructing a Date

I went out with the boy of interest last night. My friend asked this morning whether there was a spark, a vibe or an intangible attraction. I don’t know. It was a sociable, enjoyable but chaste date. I’m still trying to deconstruct whether he likes me and/or wants to shag me. I quite endorse his need to be Mr Single (ha! I think I might start calling him that). I was being honest when I said I didn’t want a relationship either. If I think about spending oodles of time with the one person – I can honestly say I don’t need that right now – I am existing quite happily sans companionship. However I do feel compelled to pursue boys of interest.

My GP diagnosed cavewoman syndrome. I was bemoaning my tendency to waste time and brain energy thinking about men – and she reassured me that it was natural sexual and reproductive forces at work. I can blame biology.

It’s difficult for me to be discerning about love and attraction at this point, as I think it’s tangled up with my craving for signs that I am lovable and that at some point I will meet someone I want to grow old with. I guess I have to accept the reality that I still have a million and one things to do that are things for me, myself and I.

I wish I’d bottled his affection, so that I could open it up and sniff it and sprinkle it on when I need a fix. Parfum de Self-Esteem.
I fear this blog has become some droll version of Carrie Bradshaw style triviality. I look forward to the day when I don’t need to leak my lustful passions and naïve confusion onto the page and can discuss instead brainwaves from the other lobes.