The Original Revelations

by Friday, April 18, 2008

I’ve realized I don’t have a love story. Don’t we all have one? A passionate lusty sometimes even dirty tale of disarray or sheer bliss once lived.

I have no drama filled past of twisted tangled engagements. I have tales of maybes and would haves that mean nothing more than a lesson learned.

None to repeat. None of “the one who got away” none of a sorted passionate escapade involving one not belonging to me. Should I be glad of these nonexistent memories? Or yearn the story to reminisce about or to blush of when in my most private public moments. I can’t not relate to a love song further then hoping the future will bring an experience to compare it to.

I have no scorn. Only well thought reasoning for each not-love occurrence in the past.

Should I engage in foul word play with a handsome stranger in cyber? Or perhaps captivate the young admirer trying to catch my glance across the train platform. I could look on batting doe-eyes at my well-to-do but obvious suitor, inviting him to ask me what he feels he must but won’t dare. Furthermore, it would be effortless to entice the once neighbored woman’s tall dark man as he follows close up the steps. I purposely could be caught in the correct accidental position with a coworker or even show a male friend a new side of an unprudish me.

Though these would not be tales of love but tales of drama and suspense, Tales to make me gasp when I think about the devious plot I birthed in oblivious. Tales I planned and acted out with pawns without surprise. I’d create my own story and only really blush at my well played devious plot. Perhaps I am so often the player that I’ve gotten too good to be beaten. The strategy I recognize keeps me too safe to be swept up …unless it’s one of the rare occasions that I actually want to be. An occasion when I’m willing to play to get what I wonder about with no false thinking, in the end he must not know that I’ve been playing. That I’ve won. He won’t know that he only got what he wanted because it was gifted to him by me. Gifted – In the beginning from my wondering.

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