Cupid falls, and the only rises.

So much has happened since my last post; it’s all very insane, really, but I’ve been thriving on insanity for months now, so it will be nothing new to you all.

In all my life, through the myriad of self-serving boys and county rednecks, I have never really found a boy for me my age who had the delicate mix of cynicism, dedication, and spirit. But through the art that is omgpop ;), I did meet a man who maintains that balance. He is not “my” man, my boyfriend, or anything along those defined terms; well at least not yet. It is very, very complicated — and so simple, in the same breath.

After what seems like a lifetime of lusting after the “boy” I’ve made references to in my countless romantic poems, I found someone who might actually give a little of the of affection back. It’s like kindred spirits, or some cheesy shit like that. But he is real, and he doesn’t make me sad, and doesn’t cling to me like Saranwrap. But the affection, dare I say the emotion that I feel radiating from him makes my head spin in all the delicious, right ways. But if you’d lived a lifetime in Southern exile, you might feel the same way.

I think what is best about the…relationship? friendship? Whatever you might call it…. is that we have been able to make this all work without molding to one another. “Molding” is a term we use; it means that we didn’t have to change ourselves, even in little ways, to fit together right. If he likes one thing, but I don’t, I’m not going to act like I’m making exceptions, or act like he changed my mind, just to mold myself to the situation. We are very much alike in some ways, while differing in others. It’s just how we do it.

What is almost comical to me — not funny to anyone else, I think — is that since being with him this way, I haven’t written a single poem on his subject. Now those of you who know me, or know the usual ideas for my poems will be shocked to learn this. But for some reason I just haven’t been able to write fantasy, or fiction, about him; and the nonfictional poems I might write would be beyond anyone else’s understanding but his and mine, so there’s not point.

I’m probably not making any sense. ::shrug::

& before I get the premature questions of: are you in love with him? are you dating him? what does he look like? are you going to marry him?, let’s set one thing straight. From my posts in the past, you all know I do not believe in love. At least… not the “l.o.v.e.” that so many screenwriters, authors, and storytellers throw at us. I might want to, but intelligently, analytically, I just know in my heart of hearts that it can’t exist.
But in meeting this man, and knowing him, talking with him daily, I have begun to ge t a better appreciation on what does exist. Not love, necessarily, and no I am not in love with him — I’ve known him for 4 weeks, really! — but I do care for him, and he does make me smile more than anyone else.

So for now, I am Amanda-prematurely-undecided.

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