So I called the man. Wait, can’t keep calling him ‘man’. Let’s call him DM. Ok, so there it is. Or rather, here it is. I called DM, much to his pleasant surprise. Promise, he said so. And I had no reason to disbelieve him.
Still don’t, for that matter. We went on to have some awesome times together in the next few months. It was almost as if all my dreams came true. You know how it is, right, when all that you have crossed your fingers for till that point in your life suddenly happens, as if by magic? That’s exactly what happened. Magic. Pure magic. I was in fantasy land.
I was living my dream… The focal point of my existence was DM. Of course, he also moved heaven and earth to make me happy. Oh so happy that it hurt at times! I was cocooned in my own happy space and neglected every other aspect of my life… Not that it mattered. All of a sudden, after eons, it seemed that complications had found another home, far away from mine. I was exulting in that freedom and lack of fear.
But at the back of my mind was this fear. Hah, yes, Fearless Phoebs was shitting bricks. After each happy date that was never called a date. After every romantic evening that was never labelled a romantic evening. After every moment of intimacy that was never called an intimate moment.
The fear was of things going downhill. It was this paralysing feeling that things are too good to be true. That DM is just the kind of person to whom I could get easily attached (who was I kidding, I already was!) and then swallow the bitter pill of his lack of reciprocity.
Well, succinctly, the fear paid off. The summer romance came to an end. Only to be reignited in a sporadic manner, when both of us felt like it. No hard feelings. And the fact that my earlier relationship fell by the wayside and died a quiet death was a sad byproduct…
Note to self: If things seem too good to be true, they bloody hell probably are. Damn.
Hey, am still letting it all hang out!
