You can't have deep, penetrating feelings for a total stranger. You can't love someone at first sight, even though art sometimes tells us we can. You can't love someone you don't know. Because I'm starting to realize that love isn't a rapid fire it's a slow burn. I'm done with these druggy-type relationships. As you stew in the pain of the aftermath, you realize you only ever felt good because you were on drugs, not because you were authentically happy. ![]() It's no different than that seemingly sweet little bump of white powder that makes you feel sky high for 10 minutes and is followed by a dark, hollow comedown. You were two lonely people desperate to fall in love like they fall in love in the movies and songs that drug us. That's not to say you're an innocent party. Oh baby, this is true love" when you're clutching each other naked after a night of mind-blowing sex.īut when sh*t has gone down, and you're falling apart, and she doesn't show up the moment you need her the most, you realize, F*ck. We will hold on to the fantasy until we can't take it anymore. Before long, we realize we are two strangers with nothing in common, entangled in a relationship. F*cking over the phone.īut when the f*cking subsides, all the ugly loose ends we overlooked (values, lifestyles, addictions) will start to unravel before our pretty little eyes.Įach time we see each other, we will like each other a little bit less. Our entire relationship will work in reverse. We will say "I love you." Even though we don't know each other. We will say things like "I've never felt this way before," even though we don't know each other. We will say things like "Wow, I feel like I've known you forever," even though we don't know each other. I will see her again the following night. ![]() We will discover that we both hate this contrived Brooklyn party and find somewhere grossly cliche to be alone, like the "fire escape." We will kiss until the wicked sunlight explodes across the polluted sky. She will take my number down because I'm too stunted to ask for her's. She'll say "Hi." And that's all it'll take. (I'm spineless when it comes to making the first move.) She will be aggressive by nature and will confidently strut her long, denim-clad legs right over to me, the shy girl in the dress. I'm wildly attracted to her, but far too shy to approach her. Just when I'm ready to make my low-key exit, I catch the eye of another misfit entity. I suck back a tasteless cocktail like it's the last cocktail on earth. I'm quiet most of the night, tucked away, invisible in my own little corner. I am miserable and displaced at a sh*t party somewhere in Brooklyn. ![]() I've "fallen in love" with people I've drunkenly made out with at an after-hours party in the East Village. ![]() I've "fallen in love" with women whose gazes I've met across a crowded subway car. The kind who only realizes she's "falling" once she's hit the f*cking ground. The kind who exchanges raw, wild-eyed "I love yous" too quickly. I've always been the kind of girl who finds herself in the throes of a "rapid fire romance." The kind who recklessly dives head first into the feels of "love" before she knows what (and who) she's doing.
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