Photo credit: Anessa Charlotte Photography

God damn, my heart hurts. Not every day but more than I’d like. And certainly, more than is appropriate for such a brief relationship. The time we spent together compared to how long it’s been since I’ve seen you is embarrassingly uneven.

It might be because I’ve refrained from having, or failed to have depending on how I look at it, sex with anyone since you. I don’t know why. It could be a dry spell, just haven’t met a cool person in a while. It could be that my subconscious is stopping me in some way. Most likely it’s because I’ve been generally disinterested in dating or sex as of late. A gradual parting that has felt natural. I don’t crave the security or intimacy of a relationship I once did. Sure, it would be nice. But my mind doesn’t wander like it used to. That’s very likely because when I wander, my thoughts lead to you. And my fucking heart hurts.

I think of being sprawled out on your couch, while you sit upright with my head in your lap, listening to that song on repeat. I think of our first date, when we were four bars deep and too many drinks in but we both knew it was going perfectly. You looked me in the eye and asked, “How bad do you want to kiss me right now?”, with a serious, sensual tone. Picturing it even now, I impulsively take in a quick sharp breath, thinking about how sexy, yet approachable, your confidence was in that moment. But mostly, I think of how it easy it was with you. Until it wasn’t.