The boy is quickly charming me in to doe-eyed submission. Wow, but does he know what he is doing with all these compliments. Not even in a cheesy way, but in one suave manner.
AND! He likes the idea that I have a small affliction called “Crazy on Tequila”. Not that he has yet seen me on it.
I am not even able to charge my way through this, letting everything move too fast & explode in the face of the fling, so I can stop exploring emotions & concerns, and rather go straight back to my normal life of singledom. Exams & detox are nannying this into slow & steady behaved exploration.
Fascinating. Completely fascinating.
I have moments of cynicism. Sceptically reviewing the situation that is so different from the norm of my other men. But then I realise, some of my past men were, to put it politely, emotionally-stunted verbal-bullying twats, while others weren’t even in country long enough to recall my latest company’s name. So surely such a change, such an increase in standard, can only be a sign of my progression.
Then I go back to privately grinning like a fool. Because, hell, it is so much better to enjoy than to think.
He better kiss as well as he charms.