Disquietude
He's nine years older than me. I thought it would be good for me. Someone more mature. At least, more mature than the other boys I have dated. I never thought that he was going to be more mature than me though. I don't think that men can be more mature than women. It's not in their nature. However, I did make the assumption that he was going to be different. This may have been stupidity on my part. Naivety even. But, I did think that things this time around were going to be slightly, if not entirely, different. I should have known that I can't build a relationship with someone when we were partying on drugs and booze. It's no way to start a long and meaningful relationship. I just thought that he understood me.
He used to listen to me. He used to hold me in his arms and just listen. I almost started to believe the things we see in movies. The romance that might exist in the movies. I thought it was finally happening to me. I think it was the drugs muddling up my brain. And now, seeing that I am sober and liking my life a whole lot better because of it, I find the things that I once thought attractive, completely horrible.
He's 34. He's going to be 35 in November. He's lazy. He has a job. He makes money. But, he is lazy. And he tends to spend his money on frivolous things. Things that don't matter. I want to travel. He does not have his passport yet. He seems to have no cares in the world about traveling. It's as though he doesn't want to. I made this pact with myself that I would travel to one place every summer for the next ten years. I will be 36 by then. I am not sure if he is going to be my companion when I travel. I might have to suck up my pride and go with a tour group...all by myself. I am ready to deal with my loneliness and start living again.
I am not in love with him. I just don't know how to let go of the past.