I'm going out with someone tonight.
I don't want a real relationship with a real person. I'm pretty sure the person I dream of does not exist. If he does, I doubt he lives on the same continent.
This person wants a relationship. He wants to fall in love. He looks great on paper. I could have, in many ways, the life I think I want if I don't dump him before things get intense.
Who then would I dance to Jamiroquai with? With whom would I spend late nights writing? He speaks like me so there's no accent to try and decipher when he gets schnockered.
I'm a dichotomy. One part church-going suburban mother, the other part giggly subcultured flirt. Sometimes there is a slight overlap that creates confusion. I can't pick which part to always be anymore than I can choose whether I'm caucasian or "other". I am both and we live in a society that doesn't know what to do with people unless they know which box they're in. When a person can't be boxed, they're left to wander in the elements. Some of them are able to carve out a niche, some aren't. I'm trying so hard to do that.
My ideal mate would be a crossbreed of Vince Noir and Jerry Dandridge. I don't think such a creature exists outside of my mind.
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