open relationship

One of us

One of us

is going to be felled by stupid love. Or serious infatuation or like or whatever the beginning thing is before turning into the love.

I give myself stupid anxiety, especially when I think about that unavoidable day in the future when I just know this is going to happen. Nevermind that I don’t really know if it’s going to happen, but I can feel it’s going to happen, which makes me believe it will.

She says she’s met her Super Boy. When I picture her hero, I see a thick, short, muscle-bound character in a blue and red cape and tights get-up. Not to be taken seriously. Then I notice that she’s giddy, excited and I feel her effervescence: lots of sparkling bubbles, so much foam spilling over. And I get it. That’s how her face used to light up when she thought about me. Used to. This is a strange moment of realization.

Shock: wow, this is that day.
Sadness: I feel a definitive shift; her heart is pounding at another door.

Oh, you actually really like this guy.
Yeah, I told you he’s my Super Boy.

Heart drop.

 

Standard